It all happened twenty-four years ago, but as I sat on the edge of my bed looking at her photo, the old journal sitting beside me, I remembered it all like it had happened yesterday. I could even hear her sweet voice with its pleasant accent in my head. My finger tracing the faint scar between my thumb and wrist.
Chapter One
The summer after I graduated from college, I accepted a great job offer with a fast-growing company. Only, the job did not start for another ten weeks. Something about a new account and ramping up production.
So, with time on my hands and no responsibilities, I decided to hike the Appalachian Trail before starting my new job. It was my college roommate, Rob, that had given me the idea. He and his father had hiked the trail the previous summer and all his stories about those two weeks on the trail just stuck with me.
Besides, when would I ever get to take two months to do something like that?
Rob and his family lived close to Roan Mountain in Tennessee. One short phone call to him, and I was making my way across two states to visit him. Even before I shut off the car, Rob was asking me if I was really going to walk the trail for two months. I reassured him that I was going to try.
That evening, his entire family gave me tidbits of advice for the hike. I could tell that Rob was bummed that he could not join me. He had already taken a temp job that could turn into a permanent hire, if things worked out. It was a great opportunity for him, so joining me was not an option for him.
That night, he and his dad looked over my pack and ended up replacing a bunch of my stuff with his dad's equipment. His mom gave me bags full of granola for quick energy, and they all assured me that if I had any trouble, one phone call from a pay phone, and they would be there as fast as they could drive. They even told me to call collect.
The next morning, when they dropped me off at the trailhead, Rob's dad took me aside and handed me a credit card. "It's a prepaid card. I got it from the store last night. If you need more than this, just call and I can wire more money to the account."
I tried to refuse it, but he insisted, telling me how he would feel better if he knew I had money. I promised to pay him back and hid the card deep in my pack.
They were a great family, and I was very appreciative. I still have that picture of all of us on the trailhead when they dropped me off.
That first week, I survived my blisters and earned my calluses. I was able to keep my goal of ten miles a day, rain or shine. I kept a journal, and every time I spotted something interesting, I would take note of it. Every evening, I would write about the day before going to sleep.
I was finishing up my seventeenth day on the trail and had hit my mark of 170 miles, when I took the side trail to the Jenkins Trail Shelter. There was someone already there, a cute short woman in a flannel shirt and worn jeans. She certainly did not look like the normal hiker you spotted along the trail. She was obviously comfortable in the woods.
As to not scare her, I called out to her when I saw her, "Hey."
"Oh, come on in. Promise not to bite." She had an interesting Pennsylvanian or West Virginian accent.
I rather liked it. Smiling, I replied, "You mind if we share the shelter tonight?"
"Not a problem." She walked over and held out her hand, "Name's Lisa."
Taking her hand, "Dave."
She looked me up and down and came to some conclusion in her head, "What's your mileage?"
"Ah, I am only at 170."
"Just started, did ya?"
"Two and a half weeks ago."
"Ok, slow walker, are ya?"
"First time."
"Oh! Well, then you are doing good. What way did ya come from?"
"I started at Roan Mountain, down in Tennessee." I got started with my evening meal, warming it up on the fire.
"I've been down that far before, but just the once."
"You hike the trail often?"
"Every year about this time. I find it a perfect vacation getaway."
So, my suspicions were correct, she was a veteran of the trail. I started eating my meal and organized my thoughts about what I would be writing in my journal entry tonight.
Her question pulled me from my thoughts, "Dave, there's a stream a bit further down the hill. Would you mind watching the trail for me, if I was to wash up?"
I looked up at her, "Absolutely. When did you want to go down?"
"In just a bit. When the trail activity slows down."
"Sure, almost finished with this, and I will be ready."
Twenty minutes later, we were walking down the small hill to the stream, as the sun was touching the top of the mountain. At the narrow bridge over the stream, there was a path that wound down to the water. I stayed up on the trail and tried not to think about what I might see if I were to look down over the embankment to see what all the splashing was about.
Fifteen minutes later, she was climbing back up the path, her long red hair still dripping wet.
"I have a dry towel in my pack if you need it."
"Na, I'll dry."
"Well, you don't want to get a chill in this cool air."
"You don't mind?"
"No, I will feel better if you use it."
She giggled, "What? Are you worried that I will catch pneumonia?"
"Actually, I probably would."
"Well, just to ease your mind." She laughed.
Her laugh was like music. I looked down at the trail to keep from staring at her beautiful face; a smile plastered on my own. She dried her hair when we got back to camp, and we sat at the fire and just chatted. We found we had quite a few things in common. I also realized that I rather liked her.
When the conversation finally stalled, I took out my journal and started to jot down today's experiences by the firelight. When she saw me writing, she asked me what it was, and I explained to her that it was just my thoughts about the day.
She smiled and asked, "Will I be in there, too?"
"Probably. Watching the trail for an attractive woman washing in a creek is a good story."
"Suppose."
I looked up and asked her, "Would you like to read a bit of it?"
She looked surprised that I would offer, "Sure."
I handed it to her, and she looked through it, reading a few entries. At that moment, I was so struck by her beauty that I just had to capture it. I took out my camera and asked her, "Mind if I take one?"
She smiled and replied, "Okay."
I quickly snapped the image with my small 110 camera, image number 10.
She was caught sitting on her log, her legs crossed, my journal on her lap, her hand holding it. Her other hand was caught tucking her hair behind her ear. Her shoulders were slightly turned towards me. She was looking right at me with a half smile on her lips. The flash had made her eyes red in the image, but I would always remember the exact shade of green they were. I would look at that picture often over the many decades to come, always wondering.
I was just finishing up my journal entry, when she came over and sat down next to me.
"Would you be interested in sharing this?"
I looked up from my writing to see her holding a joint in her hand. Now, I had grown up all my life with 'Drugs Kill' and 'Dope is a gateway drug', so I was a bit hesitant. But I did not want to put a damper on our evening, so I reluctantly agreed.
She lit up and I got the impression that this was far from her first time. I only took a few small hits with her, before she finished it off. It must have been some good stuff because I was already feeling the effects with just the small amount that I had.
(More likely, I was just a lightweight.)
We kept the fire going for a bit longer because of the cool air, but despite wanting to spend more time with her, I knew I needed to sleep for tomorrow's hike. She was looking sleepy herself, when I got up to lay out my sleeping bag in the shelter.
I confined myself to the opposite sides of the shelter from her, to give her some space. After putting out the fire, we slipped into our sleeping bags. Looking up through the trees, all I could see were the stars shining brightly. As I closed my eyes, I could feel that the temperature was dropping fast, and I was thankful to have Rob's sleeping bag.
It was about twenty minutes later, when I heard her whisper, "Dave? You awake?"
"Yeah?" I whispered back.
"You cold?"
"No."
I heard her getting up and then her next to me, telling me to, "Unzip." I looked up at her to see if she was serious, and I could see her shivering in the cold air. I opened my bag and she crawled in.
As she slid in, I could feel her cold legs on my bare chest. She skootched down, until she was pressed up against my waist, her cold shirt tight to my chest.
I could feel her getting comfortable, when she blurted out, "What is that? Do you still have your pants on?"
"Ah, yeah."
"Why?"
"Bears?"
"Take them off, I don't want them rubbing on my legs all night." She was already crawling back out and I undid my pants and slipped them off.
"Better?" I asked her, as I set them next to me.
