Backwoods. Jill Sorenson
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“Can we, Mom?”
“We don’t want to impose,” Abby said.
“Not at all,” Nathan said. “If anyone’s imposing, it’s me.”
“You got that right,” Leo muttered.
Brooke slapped his shoulder. “Leo!”
“What?”
“Be nice to your dad.”
Abby went into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. She came back, passing it to Leo. Although he hadn’t asked for it, he untwisted the cap and took a drink. “Brooke and I can hike on our own,” Abby said.
“That’s no fun,” Brooke said, as if hanging out with Abby was a chore.
Leo smirked at her plaintive response. He wasn’t keen on camping with his old man, either, but he might enjoy following Brooke up a mountain. Leo would probably be on his best behavior around her. He also couldn’t take off on his motorcycle if he got angry with Nathan, which was bound to happen.
This was perfect.
“Hiking as a group is safer, especially in remote wilderness areas,” Nathan said. “Lydia told me there was a murder just a few miles from here last summer. They found a guy with an arrow in his chest.”
“I read about that,” Abby said. “It was a couple. The girl is still missing.”
“Maybe she killed him,” Leo said.
“Ooh,” Brooke said with approval. “Spooky.”
Nathan caught Abby’s exasperated look. Kids.
“How many days will we be gone?” Abby asked.
“Four or five at the most,” Brooke said. “But we’ll be near water the whole time. You don’t have to worry about being dirty.”
Abby made a noncommittal sound.
“She’s kind of a neat freak,” Brooke explained to Nathan and Leo.
“I’m a fan of regular showers, myself,” Leo said.
Brooke wrinkled her nose at Leo’s lame joke and they both laughed. Nathan wasn’t sure what to think of them. He hardly remembered being a teenager. When he was Leo’s age, he’d been a professional baseball player, married with a kid on the way. These two weren’t children, but he couldn’t see them as adults.
“Is it settled?” Nathan asked Abby.
“My dad had all of the supplies delivered,” Brooke said, leaping to her feet. “If we pack up our gear tonight, we can get an early start tomorrow.”
Leo groaned at her enthusiasm, but Brooke couldn’t be dissuaded. Denying her was like trying to stop the sunrise.
“What do you say?” she asked, arms spread wide.
“Okay,” Abby said, giving in.
CHAPTER THREE
ABBY WOKE BEFORE DAWN.
She reached for her cell phone and noted the time. Her alarm would ring in ten minutes. Turning it off, she scooted away from Brooke and climbed out of bed. Nathan and Leo had taken the other two bedrooms, so she and Brooke had shared.
Last night, Brooke had organized all of the supplies they needed. Two small tents, four sleeping bags, four mats. Miscellaneous food items and dried meal packages. A bear canister, water filter, flashlight, first-aid kit. Toiletries and cooking utensils.
Brooke was a ruthless minimalist. She wouldn’t allow Abby to bring any makeup or unnecessary clothes, claiming she’d regret every extra ounce. As a result, the packs weighed less than ten pounds each.
Abby put on the clothes she’d laid out the night before. They’d be stopping at the lake before they reached camp, so she started with her swimsuit, a sporty blue two-piece. Over that, she pulled on basic running shorts and a gray tank top. Her anklet socks and black hiking shoes completed the look.
After brushing her teeth and pulling her hair into a ponytail, she studied her appearance. Devoid of makeup, her face looked plain and bare. She saw smudges under her eyes, pale lips, freckles and crow’s feet.
Tiptoeing toward her beauty case, she unfastened the latch.
“Don’t even think about it,” Brooke mumbled.
“What?”
She rolled over in bed and squinted at Abby. “Your makeup will wash off when you swim.”
“I’ll keep my head above water.”
“What about tomorrow? I’m not carrying that stuff for you.”
Abby would give up a couple of meals for her MAC case. Just a little mascara, some lip gloss, a bit of concealer...
“You don’t need it.”
That was easy for Brooke to say; she didn’t need any. She had a smooth, even complexion. Her skin tanned easily. Although her hair was blond, like Abby’s, her brows and lashes were dark.
Brooke propped her head on her hand. “What do you think of Leo’s dad?”
“He’s very nice.”
“Nice?”
Abby glanced at the closed door, hoping Nathan couldn’t hear them. They hadn’t talked about this last night. Brooke had stayed up late playing video games with Leo. She’d fallen asleep as soon as she crawled into bed.
“Leo says he’s single,” Brooke added in a low voice.
“How would he know? They don’t get along.”
“Lydia knows.”
“Don’t embarrass me.”
With a smile, Brooke threw back the comforter and rose from the bed in her underwear. She was lithe and lean, pantherlike. Sometimes Abby couldn’t believe this fully grown woman had come out of her body.
Not so long ago, her daughter had been gap-toothed and giggling, wearing a party hat. She’d been a newborn who refused to latch on for the first two weeks, and then a toddler who’d refused to stop when Abby tried to wean her. She’d always been stubborn, prone to outbursts, quick to laugh and full of energy.
Brooke flipped open the makeup case and rifled through its contents. “Here,” she said, choosing a single item. She tucked the rose-tinted lip moisturizer into Abby’s palm and closed her fingers around it, as if bestowing a precious gift.
Abby turned to the mirror and applied it, her throat tight.
Brooke came up behind her. “Do you think I need boobs?” she asked, covering her small breasts with her hands.
“Absolutely not,” Abby said, appalled. Brooke had a runner’s figure, strong and sleek. “You’re perfect.”
“I look like a boy.”
“Who told you that?”
“No one important.”
“Good, because it’s ridiculous.”
“Were you flat, before?”
“You don’t remember?”
Brooke shook her head.
Brooke had been twelve when Abby had her breasts done. Too young to notice the flaws Abby had seen so clearly. “I wasn’t flat...I was asymmetrical.”
“Like, one big boob and one small?” She adjusted her hands over her chest to demonstrate.
“Yes.” It wasn’t the only reason for her augmentation; Abby’s self-confidence had taken a hit during the divorce. If she hadn’t been such an emotional wreck, she might not have gone under the knife, but she was happy with the results.