I pick him up, and we start back. Or I think we start back. The path splits somewhere I don't remember it splitting and I take the branch that feels right and it doesn't feel right for long. The rain starts, and Theo tucks his face against my neck.
I keep moving because stopping doesn't help anything.
"We're okay," I tell him. "I've got you."
He doesn't answer. He's not crying, but I can feel him tense up. I talk anyway, just to fill the air: “Look, there's a big tree; that one's huge; we'll find the path; we're okay.”
I hear footsteps.
I stop.
I turn, and he's just there, like the trees put him there — enormous, SAR pack on his back, rain jacket dark with wet. He stops when he sees me, his eyes going from me to Theo, who hides behind my leg.
My body does its thing. The old thing. Read him fast, figure out what he wants, get ahead of it. Protection.
But he's already looking away from me. He crouches down — actually crouches, brings all that size down to a crouch — and talks to Theo.
"Hey. I'm Ronan." He's calm. Matter-of-fact. "You doing okay?"
Theo stares at him.
Ronan waits. Doesn't push it.
"I’m Theo. This is my mommy. We're lost," Theo tells him.
"You're about a mile off the marked trail." He glances up at me briefly. "Easy to do."
"Can you find it?" I ask, not removing myself from my anchor point between them.
"Yeah." The man, Ronan, stands up to look at me properly. He’s way taller than me.
I nod.
"Can I go up?" Theo asks.
Ronan straightens and lifts him in one motion, settles him across his shoulders like it's nothing. "Hold on."
Theo grabs his hair. Not gently. Ronan doesn't react.
"You're very tall," Theo informs him.
"Yep."
"Mama's not this tall."
"I heard that," I say.
Ronan chuckles. “Follow me. I’ll get you back to town.” He turns and starts walking and I follow, and within minutes I can see the main path through the trees.
He walks us all the way to the trailhead, Theo still up top, still holding his hair, chattering now about the hawk we spotted and whether hawks eat pancakes. Ronan answers this seriously — no, mostly mice — which opens up a whole line of questioning about mice that I can't entirely follow.
At the trailhead, he lifts Theo down and sets him on his feet.
Theo immediately sits down on the ground to examine a pinecone.
I look at this man, Ronan, standing in the rain at the edge of the trees. Close up, he's even bigger. There's mud on his jacket, and he doesn't look like someone who minds.
"Thank you," I say.
