although I wasn’t sure what he’d put in it. The land rose steadily, and we had to pick our way through the underbrush, eventually coming to a more defined trail. Cash scrambled over logs and rocks, his tail wagging. He seemed to be enjoying our little adventure.
“I take it you’ve been out here before.”
“Couple times,” he said. “She got real sick once—the flu, I think—so I brought her a supply of canned soup and some Tylenol to get her fever down. And last year she had a raccoon problem.”
“Do you know anything about her? Why she lives out here?”
“Nope.”
I grabbed a branch and used it to balance as I pulled myself up a particularly steep incline. “But aren’t you curious about her?”
“A bit. But it’s her life. She should be able to live it how she wants without people bothering her about it. Besides, if she wanted me to know more, she’d tell me.”
“But she doesn’t talk.”
“She communicates just fine.”
We continued in silence for a while. It was a tough hike. Yoga kept me strong and flexible, but this was something else. Just when I thought I might have stop and rest—my legs were burning—the land leveled off. The trees were thick and the cool air felt good.
There was something about the way Gibson navigated the woods with such ease. A big, bearded man in a flannel and jeans, with his strong, calloused hands.
I indulged in a brief daydream. Gibson and me, taking to the woods to disappear. Building a shelter, living off the land. Watching him chop wood. Cozying up in front of a fire to keep warm.
The reality of living in the wilderness wouldn’t be nearly as romantic. But it was still fun to imagine Gibson as a mountain man, taking care of me in the forest.
It made me wonder what would have happened if I’d made it to his apartment that night, instead of being picked up by his father.
“It’s just up here,” he said.
We emerged into a small clearing with a weathered cabin in the center. The wood was gray with age, but the boards were straight. It had a small porch at ground level and one old window that I could see, with remnants of chipping paint on the frame.
Henrietta sat on the porch, her thin legs bent, her back against the door. She had long, graying hair that hung around her shoulders. Her clothes were worn but her sneakers looked new.
“Having some trouble?” Gibson asked.
She nodded and jerked her thumb behind her. As if on cue, there was a crash inside the cabin. Cash barked.
“Another angry raccoon?” he asked.
She shook her head hard, making her hair whip around her face, then held up an arm to indicate height.
“Bigger than an angry raccoon?” he asked.
She nodded, just as vehemently.
“That’s why you think it’s a bear?”
She nodded again, her brown eyes wide.
I grabbed Gibson’s arm. “You can’t go in there if it’s a bear.”
He laid his hand over mine and turned to speak quietly. “It ain’t a bear. Henrietta’s not afraid of much, but for some reason, she’s terrified of raccoons. Makes her exaggerate.”
There was another crash inside the cabin. I still didn’t like this. “Even if it’s a raccoon, that doesn’t sound good. What about rabies?”
“I’ve been vaccinated.”
Cash barked again, the leash going taut in Gibson’s hand.
Henrietta’s eyes fell on me, like she’d noticed me for the first time. Using the door handle to help her stand, she rose on skinny legs. I stood still, mesmerized by her intense gaze. She had deep lines in her forehead and around her eyes. She took slow steps forward, scrutinizing me.
Gibson placed a hand on the small of my back. “This is my friend, Callie. You remember Callie?”
She touched her hand to her chest, still staring at me, then nodded slowly.
“She was gone for a long time, but she found her way back,” Gibson said.
Her face broke into a wide smile. She stopped in front of me and took one of my hands in hers. Her skin was somehow soft and calloused at the same time, her fingernails short and clean. She held my hand up, laying her other hand on top of mine. Her eyes still didn’t leave my face and she nodded, squeezing my hand.
“Hi, Henrietta.”
“I was glad to see her, too,” Gibson said.
Another crash in the cabin reminded us why we were out here. I took Cash’s leash while Gibson dropped his backpack and opened it, pulling out a pair of thick leather gloves, a