Page 77 of Christmas at Hart's Ridge

“Go on, Red,” he said, a hint of laughter dancing over his words. “Read the rest of it.”

I cleared my throat. “Gave my future husband a blowjob.”

“This isn’t a proposal. Just to clarify. I would never propose to you by referencing a blowjob. I just thought you should know where my head’s at, that’s all.”

“Good—good to know,” I squeaked.

He tugged at a lock of my hair. “What do you think?” he asked gruffly.

I looked at him. The most gorgeous man I’d ever seen, the subject of all my girlhood daydreams, the man with the biggest heart I’d ever had the privilege to know. For all his swagger, there was a vulnerability in his expression that made me melt.

“I think I love you, Luke Buchanan. And I cannot wait for a lifetime of adventures with you.”

Epilogue

Luke

“Timetogo,Red,”I whispered to the sleeping form huddled deep in a goose-down sleeping bag.

Moments like this, alone in our shared tent, were the only times I called her Red now. Nicknames had a way of sticking hard here on the Appalachian Trail, and I wasn’t willing to risk it. Around other people, she was Peppermint, the trail name she had come up with before anyone could get a chance to call her something else. I was the only one who could call her Red.

“Time’s it?” she muttered sleepily.

“Three a.m. I’m going to get coffee started. Come out when you’re ready.”

It wouldn’t take long. After five months on the trail, we had our routines down. Bethany took longer than me to wake up, but once she was fully conscious, she moved faster. I rolled out of my sleeping bag, fully dressed because I had slept in my hiking clothes the night before, and packed up my stuff. By the time I had coffee made, Bethany was up, packed, and had taken down the tent.

It was the last day of August, and the last day of our hike. Fifteen miles to the top of Mount Katahdin, the northern endpoint of the Appalachian Trail. I didn’t know how to process that. The last five months had seemed so long, but now that it was almost over, it seemed like everything had passed in the blink of an eye. We had given up separate tents after the first month on the trail, and since then, she hadn’t been out of my sight for more than fifteen minutes at a time. I wasn’t ready to let go of that.

“Pleiades,” Bethany said, coming up behind me.

I handed her a tin mug of coffee and looked at the stars stretched above us. “Where?”

She pointed out the constellation. Stars and planets had become a passion of hers, and she loved pointing out the constellations to me.

We finished our coffee and ate two Poptarts each. The Poptarts I would not miss. If I never ate pre-packaged food again for the rest of my life, I would die a happy man. Twenty miles of walking every day, carrying thirty pounds on my back, meant I was in the best shape of my life…on the outside. On the inside, I was pretty sure I had diabetes. The trail diet was absolute trash.

We hiked in darkness for the next two hours, finding the trail by our headlamps. The trail was gentle. It wouldn’t be for long, but we were grateful while it lasted. We arrived at the Katahdin Stream Campground shortly after dawn.

Ten miles down, five to go.

I glanced at Bethany, the brilliant morning sun turning her hair to a fiery glow. Suddenly I wished we were just starting our hike instead of ending it. I pulled her to me and kissed her.

Her eyes scanned my face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I just…” I shook my head. I didn’t know what I was. I just knew I couldn’t fathom returning to a world where she wasn’t in arm’s reach at all times.

Her expression softened. “Me, too.”

We milled around the campground while we waited for the ranger to show up so we could check in, finding several familiar faces who had hiked alongside us over the past few months. There was a restless energy among the through-hikers. We were so close to being done.

And then we were on our way again, starting the final push to the end. It was a gorgeous morning with cloudless blue skies and the promise of warmth already bearing down on us. The pink granite mountains gleamed in the sunlight.

The first two miles were easy, and then the boulders started. But we had hiked worse through New Hampshire, so I wasn’t worried. Bethany took the lead. Even though she had proven to be a competent hiker, accidents could happen no matter how experienced a person was, and I wanted her in my sight. She sprang up the trail with joyful exuberance, like she hadn’t just hiked five miles yesterday and twenty the day before that. I shook my head, smiling.

We paused at the alpine meadow to eat a snack and catch our breath.

“It’s like we used up every bit of bad luck over the last few months and now the universe only has good things to give us.” Bethany grinned at me, her hazel eyes wide and happy.

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