IRIS
Even before weturn off the state highway, we drive through rural country and thick woods. Oak trees draped in Spanish moss and longleaf pines crowd out the sky overhead. When we turn into the park entrance, we pass a sign for the State Arboretum, and then Beau pulls over outside a wood-frame checkpoint.
“I’m just gonna get us a day pass and then we’ll park at the trailhead.”
I sit up straight. “I can get the day pass,” I say, reaching for my pack which holds my wallet.
“Mais, non,”Beau says, frowning. I understand him perfectly, but I don’t let him off that easy.
“I’m sorry,” I tease, batting my lashes. “I don’t speak French. What does that mean?”
“That’s a hardno.”Beau’s tone is no-nonsense.
I drop the pack. “Okay.” He can be like that. I’ll find a way to repay him later.
When he shuts the truck door behind him, Mica stomps his front paws on the seat and gives a short, impatient cry.
“I know, buddy. It’s almost time,” I tell him, reaching back to scratch his twitching ears. “Almost time to go exploring.”
I watch Beau walk away.
That laugh alone—worth more than my salary.
Smiling to myself, I relive the feel of his hand on my back. Rubbing me in soothing sweeps.
I have Ramon and Sally. They are loving and affectionate with me. I don’t lack for hugs and company.
But Beau’s touch felt different. More of a gift. Because he’s under no obligation. There’s no lifelong friendship or tie that binds. He’s free to do what he wants.
“What are you grinning at?” he asks when he returns.
I shrug. “Just glad to be here.”
With you.
He hooks the day pass to the rearview, fires up the truck, and puts it in gear.“Allons.”
When we park at the trailhead, I step out of the truck and clip on my Osprey. Mica is beside himself with impatience, so as soon as I release his seatbelt strap, he bounds down and twirls in excited circles. His antics make Beau chuckle.
“Settle down boy,” I say, holding out his lead. “We can’t go until I’ve got you.”
“You think he’d run off?” Beau asks, sounding skeptical.
I shake my head. “No, but I’m careful. He’s so excited right now, he could scent something and take off before he really gets his bearings.” As though he’s listening, Mica sits at my feet, almost preening as I attach his lead. “Once he burns off some energy, I’ll let him loose, and he’ll stick close.”
Beau nods and shrugs on his backpack. It’s not a day pack. Nothing lightweight, compact, or form-fitting, but a regular school backpack. On the drive, he told me about some of his travel adventures. He’s hiked in some amazing places. I nod toward the backpack.
“Don’t tell me you took that to the Canary Islands.”
“Give mesomecredit.” His brown eyes dance. “I may not have hundreds of miles of the AT under my belt, but I’m not clueless.”
“Okay, professor, where’s your quality gear, then?” I tease, and I’m rewarded when his wide smile gets away from him. I watch as he tucks it back until it’s a muted grin.
“To tell you the truth, I don’t own my own gear,” he says, adjusting his shoulder straps.
I blink. “Wait, what?”
He still grins, but all of a sudden, I feel like he’s watching me. “I live in a tiny house. I don’t buy anything or keep anything that doesn’t have a place or daily purpose.”
