Page 5 of Charlie

I rush down the stairs Friday morning, right at eight. I'm dressed in so many layers I've lost count: camisole, long johns, jeans, two pairs of socks, short-sleeved shirt, long-sleeved shirt, sweater, jacket. I feel like the marshmallow man. Cameron's waiting outside the bookstore, leaning against an old army green Defender. He's dressed in fewer layers than I am: weatherproof pants, flannel shirt, jacket, and ball cap. The sun is just starting to peek over the hills, the golden light highlighting his face.

"Well, aren't you the rugged outdoorsman," I tease, dropping my backpack into the back of his truck.

"Just wait," he wiggles his eyebrows, making his glasses slide down his nose. "We'll have to pick up several of my students on the way to the pools. This is just a scouting trip – getting the lay of the land, mapping the terrain, things like that." He opens the car door for me and ensures I'm all the way in before closing it carefully.

'Several' students turned out to be enough to pack into the back of the vehicle like sardines. I have to move over to the middle of the front bench seat to fit one more; not that I mind being pressed against Cameron, or the fact that he has to reach between my knees to shift gears. They're boisterous and make it impossible to hold a conversation, but I love it. It's exactly what I need. I haven't been around a group of young people in a while. They help to remind me of the carefree person I was before, of the pre-Rob Charlie. She was a great girl. I miss her.

We drive on winding single-track roads, mountains crowding us on both sides, music blasting out into the ether. After about ten minutes, he glances over at me and then down at my hands resting on my lap. I smile and grab his hand off the shifter, linking my fingers with his. He winks at me, a flash of his dimple, and then he's turning his attention back to the road. I trace the veins on the back of his hand with my fingertips. He squeezes my hand and motions for me to look up. All at once, the peaks open into a wide swath of valley bathed in greens and golds. The beauty is surreal. Cameron takes his hand back to downshift, and then we're pulling into a small parking area.

"Ready?"

I nod, meeting him at the back of the truck, carefully tucking my camera into my backpack. His students mill around, waiting for instructions. "Pick a partner. Each pair takes one section of the valley. Your job is to find any anomalies and map them," he says, holding up a clipboard with a gridded map of the area. "The more meticulous you are now, the easier our work will be later."

He turns to me as they squabble over who is going where and with whom. "Since you've never been here before, I thought we could hike to the top of the pools. We aren't usually blessed with weather like this. It would be a miserable hike most other days," he says, squinting against the sunlight.

"Sounds good," I say, shouldering my bag.

I can't take my eyes off him as he double-checks his pack and slings it over his shoulders. I'm struggling to fit this version of Cameron with the one from Sunday night. I had put him in such a neat box, and today he came along and demolished it. I try to ignore how his jacket pulls across his back as I follow him across the road and onto the trail. I force myself to look away when I notice the fit of his pants. Lord, these layers were a bad idea. I pull at the neck of my sweater, fanning it out several times, desperate for some cool air.

The pools stair-step down the valley, the water bubbling over several small waterfalls. It's the most beautiful place I have ever seen. We traverse the well-worn path to the highest pool in about forty-five minutes. The sun is beating down on our backs, the air filled with the heady musk of blooming heather.

"Do you want to take a break before going back down?" Cameron asks, holding his pack up to give his shoulders a reprieve.

"I'd love to snap some pictures," I say, setting my backpack on a rock and fishing out my camera and lens.

"Are you hungry?"

"Famished," I admit. The stale scone I had eaten this morning wore off a while ago.

"Good." His dimple flashes. "Go take your pictures, and we can eat when you're finished." He sets his bag down and sits on a rock, propping himself up with his elbows. God, he’s cute.

I walk down to the pool directly below us and take some pictures uphill, hoping that I can somehow capture the beauty and magic of this place. The sun illuminates the grass, bright greens popping against the glittering blue water. It's mesmerizing. I return to Cameron and find he has laid out a small feast.

"This is amazing!" I sit cross-legged opposite him, and he hands me a steaming cup of coffee. There's some creamy soup with crusty bread and butter. It smells amazing. "Do you always bring meals like this on your excursions?" I ask, ripping into the bread.

"Fancier," he jokes, the corner of his mouth curling up. "I usually just bring a protein bar," he admits. I watch as he bites off a piece of bread, the muscles in his jaw working.

"Thank you," I blush, "I appreciate the thought."

"I know," he says as he smiles, "that's why I did it."

I can't manage to tear my gaze away as he licks a crumb from his lower lip.

5

The bread is perfect – fresh and pillowy on the inside, crunchy on the outside.

"This is so good." I lick a bit of butter off my finger.

Cameron's gaze freezes on my mouth, his cheeks pink. "Tell me about yourself, Charlie," he says finally, taking a bite.

"There's not much to tell, if I'm being honest. My given name is Charlotte. I graduated with a bachelor's degree in business administration at nineteen and started my own small business. Quit when my ex needed help with his family business. Poured my life into that and then..." I pause, unsure what to say. "Then I came here."

"Graduated at nineteen? That's impressive. How long were you married?" he asks; his gaze holds no judgment, only curiosity.

"Five years."

"Five years? How old were you when you got married?"

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