Smoky Mountain Sweethearts. Cheryl Harper
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most of her teenage stunts until she’d graduated from high school and moved to Knoxville to go to college.
While Avery was one more hike up to the cliff away from death, Sam was as strong as he’d been at seventeen. She was also in need of a rescue while he was barely breathing fast. Life was unfair.
“Have a seat.” He wrapped his fingers around her wrist to test her pulse and handed her the flashlight. “Hold this for me.”
Avery eased down to the rocky path and turned on the light as Sam pulled a handheld radio off his utility belt.
“Blackburn to base.” Sam handed her a canteen. “Drink.”
Avery wanted to argue but he wasn’t ready for that yet.
Whatever he made out through the static prompted the answer: “I found her, headed back down to the Yanu trailhead. Good condition. Pulse is fast but steady. Hold the second group. We’ll walk out.”
When he turned back, Avery tipped up the canteen, took three good swallows, wiped her mouth and offered it to him. “Are you the Otter Lake ranger station’s arm of a county-wide manhunt?”
Sam eased down beside her and ran a thumb over the tear in her jeans. “I’m it. Your mother called me instead of 911. Once she told me you were headed to the park, I had a feeling I knew where to find you. The fact that she couldn’t reach you on your cell phone was another good clue. Worst cell reception in the area here.” He waved the canteen. “Drink.”
Avery snatched it back. “You know, it was a couple of hours on a beautiful fall day, not the desert at high noon.” She took three more swallows to make him happy and then capped the canteen and slung it over her shoulder. “I’ll hold on to this in case I need it, okay?”
“Good idea. It doesn’t take long to get dehydrated, especially as dry as we’ve been lately.” Sam checked her pulse again. His warm fingers reminded her how much she wished she’d brought a jacket. The shiver that shook her shoulders was impossible to ignore.
“Sorry,” he mumbled as he grabbed the backpack he’d dumped on the trail. When he pulled out a balled-up windbreaker with a flourish, it was easy to remember every sword fight they’d ever had across her front yard. “Slip this on, and we’ll get moving.”
She was taking a mental walk down memory lane; he was planning his rescue. Did he remember any of those times? They hadn’t been the best of friends, but they’d been more than acquaintances.
Ignoring the spear of disappointment at something else she’d lost before she even realized it was gone, Avery slowly stood and did her best to swallow the groan that bubbled in her throat. Sitting was murder. If she didn’t stay in motion, her muscles would leave her here to die.
Before she’d made it all the way to the top, that would have seemed appropriate, sitting beside the trail to let whatever was coming wash over her.
Now she knew she could make it if she kept going. The only option was to fight her way back down to the trailhead.
Oh, man. Was that the epiphany?
“I’ll follow your lead,” she said as she offered Sam the flashlight. She hoped he could see nothing more than grim determination on her face. If he were a stranger, that was all she’d give him.
* * *
THE SPLASH OF light across Avery’s face was a reminder of how fatigued she was. When Sam had first seen her on the trail, his immediate concerns were dehydration and shock. She was pale, the finest lines around her eyes and mouth tight with pain or something.
But when she’d opened her mouth, she might as well have been the wild girl he’d explored these trails with as a boy.
“I’d rather you set the pace,” he said. “Take the flashlight. Make sure to aim it far enough out that you don’t obliterate your night vision completely because you’ll need to watch the edge of the trail.” Falling would be devastating right now. The foliage was so thick that finding her would be next to impossible until the sun rose. Even then, the old growth along the trail could be impenetrable. “When you get tired, stop.”
“Aye, Captain,” she drawled, and it was enough to draw a smile to his face. She’d never once wanted to be first mate. Avery Abernathy was going to be the king, the captain, the criminal mastermind and the first to charge the enemy.
Their pace was slow and steady. The flicker of the flashlight warned him she was tiring, but she kept going. He could hear her labored breathing but it was a reassuring sound as night settled around them.
The phone call from her mother had scared him.
He’d been preparing to take a final drive through the trailhead campgrounds when his mother called. As soon as she had handed the phone over to Janet Abernathy, he’d tried to reassure her. He could remember Avery’s favorite spot. It would be easy enough to check. There was no need to worry.
“She hasn’t been herself lately.” Janet’s voice was tight and Sam knew she was trying to explain something to him without saying it. “I...I don’t know, Sam.”
On his way up the trail, he’d run through all the scenarios, but there weren’t many that fit. She was too weak to make it back down.
Or she’d gone up with no plans of following the trail back down at all.
Suicide wasn’t something any reserve ranger wanted to encounter, but they’d all experienced the fear last year when a kid, a sixteen-year-old high school sophomore, had driven all the way from his home in Samson City to jump from an overlook along the Hickory Branch motor trail. His attempt had failed, but Sam could still remember the faces of the guys who’d brought him up.
Nobody would be the same after that.
Finding Avery fighting to get back down was such a relief he’d had a hard time getting words strung together.
She tripped and would have fallen again, but Sam caught her arm in time to ease her to the ground. “Rest. We’re close now.”
“How can you tell?” she asked as she brushed her hands over her cheeks. He couldn’t tell if she was crying, but now she had dark mud smudges on both cheeks. He reached into his pack and pulled out wipes.
“Years of experience on this trail,” Sam explained as he wiped the dirt away and tapped the canteen still hanging from her shoulder. “Drink.”
Her beleaguered sigh was enough like the old Avery that it was easy to laugh. “When I have to stop to use the nearest ladies’ room, it will be all your fault.”
“I’ll take the blame.” Sam took the canteen when she thrust it back at him.
“This was not how this day was supposed to go,” she said quietly.
“No?” He knew she was tired. Her words were slurring, and every time she shifted, a faint frown flitted across her face.
“No. I was going to go up confused and come back down enlightened.” She rested her head on her folded arms. “And you were nowhere in the picture.”
“Enlightened about what?” Sam asked as he reached under her to scoop her off the ground. As expected, she squawked and tried to struggle out of his arms. At seventeen, she’d been strong enough to set him down hard on the ground. Picking her up now was like collecting a fallen branch, lightweight and brittle enough to break. As thin as Avery was, she still knew where to hit. One smack on the arm made him snap, “Settle down or I’ll drop you.”
“On my head?” she asked. In the dim light, he could see her lips twitching. He’d threatened that a thousand different times when they were kids.
“If I think it will help, yes.” Sam grunted as she sighed heavily and dropped her head on his shoulder. “Ten minutes. You only have to suffer through this for ten minutes.”
He thought she was resolved to stew in silence. She’d taught him a good lesson about women