time that had lapsed. So why did he now have a gut feeling that he’d uncover something in those woods now?
He remembered as a kid hiking the woods of New Sweden with his grandfather and their golden retriever, Klara. That was where he’d developed his love of nature and learned about the various plants and shrubs that flourished in the harsh climes of Maine. Many times he’d seen deer and moose off in the distance. He’d once even seen a black bear too close for comfort. He remembered sprinting ahead, sometimes venturing off trail, while his grandfather had ambled along with the walking stick he’d carved by hand. Cutting through the thick brush had proved difficult, but he’d enjoyed the discoveries he would make along the way and watching Klara run ahead of him, tail wagging. Off trail had seemed far more interesting than on, and a few hours of scurrying about had quickly tired him out.
Fowler Woods bored him. He’d usually trek through it when he needed a quick fix. Mostly, he preferred hiking up the nearby hills and along the densely wooded trails that abounded in the more rural parts of Maine. One thing he liked about Fowler Woods, though, was catching the raw scent of the nearby ocean and then emerging from the woods to that spectacular view. The ocean displayed moods that fluctuated wildly. Sometimes it seemed angry at the world, pounding and crashing against the rocks. Other times it resonated with a calm tranquility, the surface like polished blue marble.
Tiny ripples appeared on the ocean’s surface this morning. He glanced one last time at the shimmering cove before moving into the woods. This time he took the least used trail. It circled the perimeter of the woods, adding an extra mile to the loop. When he had gone about half a mile, he noticed that vegetation started to fill in the path. Leaves above provided a canopy that partially blocked out the sun. He stopped on the trail at various intervals, such as when he saw something that piqued his interest.
Sweat poured down his forehead as the temperature began to rise. Bushes and brambles impeded his path, but he managed to trek through and around them. He climbed over downed trees, heard the singsong of birds, observed the muddy vernal pools. Occasionally, he let his mind wander to thoughts of running free with his grandfather and of Klara bolting off into the woods.
Then he remembered taking his daughter hiking for the first time. She was little at the time, maybe six or seven, and headstrong for her age. He’d taken her to Marigold Hill, a short climb of only a thousand feet, thinking she’d enjoy it as much as he did. But he couldn’t have been more wrong.
She’d complained almost immediately and wanted to return home. Halfway up the hill, she had collapsed on a boulder, had crossed her little arms in defiance, and had refused to go any farther. Not even when he bribed her with candy had she agreed to move. He recalled how she had taken the chocolate bar out of his hand and tossed it into the woods. Her behavior had puzzled him, and rather than get angry, he had knelt down next to her, with a hurt expression on his face. Why couldn’t she share his love for nature?
After a few minutes of coaxing, she still refused to budge. His hurt feelings turned to anger as he started down the trail. But she refused to follow, and he feared leaving her alone, in the event some other hikers happened to be heading down. He scrambled back up the trail and stopped in front of her. Amber refused to look at him, so he scooped her into his arms and carried her against her will. She screamed bloody murder all the way down the trail, even as he passed a pair hiking up. While listening to his daughter scream and shout, he was forced to explain to the two hikers that he was not only a cop—he took out his badge to show them—but also her father. Life went on after that, complicated and messy as life typically was, but he had never forgotten that day. Apart from convincing him never to hike with her again, it foreshadowed their future father-daughter relationship.
He had to stop and take a break. The memories of Amber had caused him to lose his concentration. He looked up past the leaves and noted the blue sky.