Page 18 of Worthy

The man is hot. Scorching even. He’s all hard angles and planes, but his skin looks smooth and his hair soft, and for as long as I can remember the combination of masculinity with a hint of femininity has been my weakness. So yes, I appreciate the view, but that doesn’t mean I want an up close and personal look.

I just want things to go back to normal, or my impression of it, where he’s playful and fun, and gives me a mental break by making me smile or laugh, or even internally cringe at his relentless flirting. Only he hasn’t been here in twodays…

The quiet I like. It’s good for my work. It’s the silence I’m starting to resent. Time to get out of the house.

I make the quick drive to the trailhead for Jasper Falls. It’s another moderate hike, since I’m still acclimating to the altitude, but I’m interested in it because of the water. It’s one of the alternative energy sources I've been exploring, so any hike leading to water is time well spent in my book.

The trail itself is mild, because the trailhead sits at a higher elevation than the town, so there isn’t a steep grade to reach the falls. But it is rocky and uneven, which forces me to look down where I’m stepping instead of at the trees lining the path.

After about forty-five minutes, the trail spits me out at the upper rim of a secluded waterfall. By the angle of the overlook, the water appears to be coming straight out of the rock, cascading down the cliffs into a little tide pool before it makes a steep drop to the bottom.

Having grown up near the water, I can easily sit for hours just watching it. Waves crashing, rivers flowing, there’s a peacefulness to it, but there’s a lot of power, too. I find it fascinating. And calming.

The falls are the result of melting snow, and this past winter must have seen a lot of it because this is no little trickle. I take a few pictures then find a spot on a nearby bench to have a snack and listen to the water hitting the ground below.

The reverberation gives me ideas about how to use it for energy, and I let my mind drift to different things I might be able to power with it. But after a while, I forget about work and just enjoy listening to music that only the outdoors can play.

It’s different here than along the coast. There’s a constant, relentless echo of water falling as opposed to the rhythmic crashing of waves. Though the air is thicker, the breeze carries no trace of sound.

I could get used to this.

Unlike the rest of my family, I feel more at home outside than in. It’s one of the reasons I didn’t want to go into the family business, and why I’m pursuing a career that, I hope, will help me protect places like this.

***

I’m not sure how long I sit, lost to the sound of the falls, before I realize the sun has moved past my bench. That’s my signal to get moving. I want to be back to my car long before dark.

The descent is easy enough until I get to the rockiest portion, where the ground is extremely uneven. I have to pick my way around to find solid footing, and by going slow I’m able to do so. But despite my caution, a rock that at first feels stable, wobbles when I put my full weight on it, sending me crashing to the ground. The momentary discomfort of landing on my butt is nothing compared to the stabbing pain that shoots up my ankle.

Taking a deep breath, I probe the area that already seems to be swelling, wincing when I hit the source of the injury. It’s painful but tolerable, so it shouldn’t prevent me from getting down the trail. I do have a first aid kit with an Ace bandage in my pack, so I tenderly wrap my foot and put it back in my shoe. It’s a tight fit, though it will have to do because the terrain is too rough to make it down the trail in my sock. I get up and take a few tentative steps.

It's uncomfortable but manageable as long as I go slow, and since there are tons of trees around it’s not too difficult to find a branch I can use as a walking stick to make things easier. That’s the good news. The bad news is, I still have about a half mile to go, and my progress isthe opposite of efficient. I’ll be lucky to make it to the car before the light disappears.

I shuffle rather than walk, making very little ground. At dusk, I can just barely make out the parking lot by the trailhead, though I still have a big descent with several switchbacks before I’m finally down. My ankle is starting to throb from the exertion, and I’m debating whether it’d be better to hop the rest of the way when I spot a familiar figure heading my way.

“What happened?” Cade jogs toward me, his normally smooth face lined with concern.

“What are you doing here?” I inhale sharply.

“I saw your car, figured I’d make sure you got back okay since we’re losing sun.”

“You saw my car? What are you doing here?” I ask, still baffled.

“I went for a bike ride after work, further down the valley. I was on the way back and saw your car. What happened?” He zeros in on my ankle and frowns.

“I rolled my ankle. It’s fine.”

“Doesn’t look fine, you can barely put weight on it.” He gestures to my walking stick.

“It’s, yeah… It’s sore, but it’s hard to walk because of the terrain, not because it hurts. Besides, I’m almost down.” I take a step forward but can’t hold back the grunt that comes with it when a zing of discomfort shoots up my leg.

“Stop,” Cade commands as he comes to a halt before me. “You can’t walk. Come here, and I’ll carry you.” He spins so his back is to me.

“What? You can’t carry me the rest of the way.” I shake my head firmly.

“It’s not that far and you’re not that heavy.” He gives me a pointed look.

“Heavier than you.” I stay put. As far as reasons go, I know that’s weak, but I can’t think of anything else to dissuade him from carrying me.

---