River’s End

campground, more about the trails and even the backcountry areas. I’ve gone along on guided hikes before, and I want to see if I can do one by myself. It’s just down to Irely. If I do a good job, I could start training to guide other hikes during the summer and maybe give talks and stuff for kids. When I’m older, I could even do overnights, and be a naturalist like they have in the park. Only I’d be better, because I grew up here. Because it’s home.”
    He reached out to skim his knuckles over her cheek. He could see Julie in her eyes, Julie, when she’d been a young girl and telling him of her dreams to be a great actress. Her dream had taken her away from him. Olivia’s would keep her close.
    “You’re still young enough to change your mind a dozen times.”
    “I won’t. But anyway, I won’t know if I’m good or if it’s really what I want until I try. I want to try, just a little bit, tomorrow.”
    “Just down to Irely?”
    “I showed the father the loop trail from the inn before I left. He kept talking about getting lost.” She shared an easy chuckle with Rob. “I think Irely’s about all he can handle.”
    Knowing she’d won, she got up, brushed off her jeans. “I’m going to go see if Grandma needs any help with dinner.” Then she stopped, leaned down to wrap her arms around Rob’s neck. “I’m going to make you proud of me.”
    “I am proud of you, baby.”
    She hugged tighter. “Just wait,” she whispered, then darted inside. Olivia was exactly on time. She’d decided that would be important to how she lived her life from now on. She would always be prompt; she would always be prepared. She arrived early at the lodge to collect the boxed lunch for the hike. It would be her job to carry the supplies. She was young and strong, she thought as she stowed them in her backpack. She would get older, and she would get stronger. She shouldered the pack, adjusted the straps.
    She had her compass, her knife, bottled water, spare plastic bags to seal up any trash or garbage, her camera, a notepad and pencils, a first-aid kit. She’d spent three hours the night before reading, studying, absorbing information and history. She was going to see to it that the Bradys had an entertaining, and an educational, afternoon.
    When she walked around to the patio entrance of the unit, she saw Noah sitting in one of the wooden chairs. He was wearing headphones and tapping his fingers restlessly on the arm of the chair. His legs were long, clad in ripped jeans and stretched out to cross at the ankles of high-top Nikes.
    He wore sunglasses with very dark lenses. It occurred to her she’d yet to see him without them. His hair was damp as if he’d recently come from the shower or the pool. It was casually slicked back and drying in the sun.
    She thought he looked like a rock star.
    Shyness wanted to swallow her, but she straightened her shoulders. If she was going to be a guide, she had to learn to get over being shy around boys and everyone else.
    “Hi.”
    His head moved a little, his fingers stopped tapping. She realized he’d probably had his eyes closed behind those black lenses and hadn’t even seen her.
    “Yeah, hi.” He reached down to turn off the cassette that was singing in his ears. “I’ll get the troops.”
    When he stood up, she had to tip back her head to keep her eyes on his face. “Did you try the pool?”
    “Yeah.” He gave her a grin and had the woman’s heart still sleeping in the child’s breast stirring. “Water’s cold.” He opened the patio door. “Hey, the trailblazer’s here.” There was a muffled response from behind the bedroom door before he turned back to Olivia. “You might as well sit down. Mom’s never ready on time.”
    “There’s no hurry.”
    “Good thing.”
    Deciding it was more polite to sit since he’d asked her to, she lowered herself to the stone patio. She fell into a silence that was part shyness and part simple inexperience.
    Noah studied her profile. She interested him because of her connection to his father and to Julie MacBride and, he admitted, because of her connection to murder. Murder fascinated him.
    He would have asked her about it if he hadn’t been certain both his parents would have skinned him for it. He might have risked that, but he remembered the image of the small child with her hands over her ears and tears flooding her cheeks.
    “So ... what do you do around here?”
    Her gaze danced in his direction, then away.