Crossing the Deep (15 page)

****

Asher knew he was in trouble when Rachel got quiet. If he could take it back, he would. He knew better than to let his anger get the best of him.

He watched as she prayed over her chips, ate them all, and placed the folded bag in Sid’s backpack. She rubbed her ankle and groaned, making him feel horrible. If he hadn’t been such a big butt, she wouldn’t have had to walk and hurt it worse. He hardly ever felt guilt, but now he did all the time. He didn’t like it.

“What are you doing?” he asked, watching her take off her muddy sock.

“What does it look like? I’m getting this bandage off. It hurts.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Nope,” her tone was short. “But I know if I don’t, I’m going to go crazy.”

Asher couldn’t argue with that. He probably would too. “Let me,” he offered.

“No, thank you. I don’t need or want your help,” she said as she unraveled the bandage. She let out a sigh of relief when it was free.

“You’re still mad about before.” He had hoped she’d be over it by now and they could just forget it.

“I’m not mad.”

“You sound mad.”

“I might sound it, but I’m not.”

He raised a disbelieving brow.

“I’m not. I’m— Look, I understand why you did what you did. You were upset about Sid. You panicked. I get it. Doesn’t mean I like it.”

“I know, I just…” How could he say this without making her even more upset? “If we are going to get out of this, we need to start thinking for ourselves and not ‘what would Jesus do?’”

“Says you.”

“Says me.”

She got quiet again, and Asher realized how much he didn’t like it when she wouldn’t speak to him.

“When my father died…” she began, causing him to flinch and face her. He hadn’t been expecting her to say anything, much less anything about her father. “When he died, I was so angry at God. I couldn’t understand why God took him from me. It wasn’t fair, ya know? I was fourteen. Fourteen-year-olds aren’t supposed to have to go to their father’s funeral.” She paused. “And I was mad at myself for causing it.”

“How could you have possibly killed your father?”

“On my fourteenth birthday, I was so excited because I wanted a new e-reader. They hadn’t been out long then, and since I love books it seemed like something I’d like. For weeks I talked about it, begged for it, dreamed about it. The night of my birthday, I expected it. My father came home from work with a little rectangular box wrapped in purple foil paper. I couldn’t wait to rip the paper off.” She laughed, but Asher knew it wasn’t a happy one.

“Once I did, I saw it wasn’t an e-reader. It was a Bible. An ugly little purple thing. I cried, Asher. I actually cried. My father’s face… I can still see how upset he was. He tried to make me feel better and said he picked it because he knew I loved purple and how a Bible was the greatest gift anyone could ever have. I wasn’t having any of it. I stormed off to my room and slammed the door. That was the last time I saw my father.” She blinked out a tear and it slid down her cheek.

“Then what happened?” Asher urged, wanting more than anything to grab her hand and comfort her. He wasn’t sure if would be a good idea, though, seeing how mad she had been.

It took her a second before she could tell him. “A few hours later, the doorbell rang. I heard my mom scream and I ran downstairs. I saw this guy in uniform holding my mom up. She’d crumpled over in his arms, sobbing. The other cop noticed me and from the look in his eyes, I knew. Found out later that my dad had hydroplaned coming back with my e-reader. It actually survived until I dropped it the other night because of the fox.” The tears fell then, silent and pitiful.

Asher was at a loss for what to do or what to say. Unsure if he should or not, he decided to go with his gut and put his arm around her. It was a gesture of comfort, nothing more.

To his surprise, she didn’t jerk away. She didn’t lean into him, but she did accept his unspoken offer. Maybe she needed the comfort as much as he did, he thought.

****

She should have wiggled away from his touch, but she didn’t have it in her. It felt nice to not be alone.

“It was wrong of me to do what I did,” he said, rubbing her hair with the tips of his fingers. “I should have never thrown your Bible away like that. It was important to you.”

Rachel shook the memory out of her head, not wanting or needing it. She wiped the tears away and sat up straighter. “I don’t need you to apologize anymore, just like you told me I should stop saying I’m sorry for getting us lost. What I need for you to do is to tell me that everything will be okay, and that we'll get out of here.”

He scooted around so he faced her. “We are going to make it out of here. I promise you. We will make it home tomorrow.”

She studied his face and smiled. “Liar.”

“I’m not lying. I do think that.”

“Well, guess we’d better get this ankle better then. It’s gonna be a long walk.”

“Let me,” Asher offered again. This time, she accepted.

He picked up her foot and laid it on his leg. Rachel wasn’t encouraged by how he looked at it. “Looks worse, doesn’t it?”

“Well, yeah.” He picked up the flashlight and examined her foot.

The purples were deeper and the blacks were blacker. The swelling made it resemble an elephant’s foot more than a human one, and her toes looked horrible. “That looks awful,” she said.

“It don’t look good, that’s for sure.”

“Awesome.” She sighed. She shivered as the cold November air and mists of rain hit her exposed skin. She silently prayed for the rain to just stop, so they could at least have that going for them.

“We should wrap it up again or at least put some different socks on,” Asher reached into the bag and pulled out the once matching sock. Now they were two different sizes and colors. He placed one of the fresh, white ones over her toes and up her foot. Rachel couldn’t help but stare. The sock stretched like it was going to explode. She started feeling a little sick to her stomach and knew she had to think about something else.

“So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?” she asked.

“We know we can’t go back toward Deep Creek Trail. That way’s gone. You were right before. We should go the other way to Harrison’s Trail. If we go back down the trail, we will have to find the main road eventually.”

“Eventually,” she sighed, not looking forward to a long hike on an ugly foot. But she knew God was with her and through Him all things were possible.

“Hey, look.” Asher pointed at the light outside of their pavilion. “The rain’s slacking off.”

“Imagine that,” Rachel smiled. Looking out, she could see that the clouds were dissipating too. A few stars could be seen twinkling between the trees. It might turn out to be a beautiful evening.

“Unreal,” Asher said in awe. “It’s our lucky night.”

She smiled, knowing luck had nothing to do with it. “Thank you, God,” she whispered toward the sky, not caring what Asher had to say on the matter.

Without the clouds to hold any warmth in, the temperature plummeted. Rachel shivered in Asher’s leather jacket; wishing she had her warm one back, but thought it rude to ask for it. She picked her boot up and tried to put it on her freezing foot.

“What are you doin’?” Asher asked.

“If I don’t get this foot warm soon, it’s gonna fall off,” she made a joke of it, but deep down she wondered if one
could
get frostbite in Tennessee.

“We need a fire.”

“I agree,” she said, still fiddling with her boot. “But I don’t see anything to burn. It just stopped raining about an hour ago. All of the wood is soaked. There’s no way that it will light, and I highly doubt water bottles and chip bags would make for a good fire.” She gave up. Her foot was swelled too big, and the boot wouldn’t go on.

“They would, but it wouldn’t last long.” He let out a long sigh and got Sid’s blanket from the bag. He spread the red and black flannel covering on the concrete floor and motioned for Rachel to roll over on it. Her original plan was for each of them to have a blanket, but it did seem appealing to have a dry blanket under her for the night.

“It’s not a fire, but it’s better than nothing,” she said, scooting back. In fact, it looked pretty warm. Once on the blanket, she laid down, and Asher covered her with her purple plush one. He scooted under the covers with her but didn’t touch. Rachel appreciated the gesture after everything that had happened between them that day, but the time for formalities had come and gone. It was cold!

Without an invitation, Rachel rolled over and hugged up to him. Just as she’d done the night before, she draped her foot over his leg to elevate it. He didn’t protest, so she figured he didn’t care.

“Good night, Rachel,” he said, pulling her closer.

“Good night,” she said and closed her eyes, ending the day as it began: in Asher’s arms.

Chapter Thirteen

Monday
morning: The day
before…

When she first saw it, she didn’t know what it was. It was bright — much too bright and much too early. It took time for her eyes to adjust. An eternity seemed to have passed since she’d seen anything so bright.

“Sun’s bright this morning,” she heard coming from the direction of her feet.

The sun? she thought through her mind fog.

Rachel sat up and tried to make her eyes focus. She felt so dizzy. The sun hurt, since she’d seen nothing but clouds and rain for the past two days. When she could finally see, she saw Asher standing on the gazebo steps. Her backpack sat next to him, and her emerald green coat lay on top of it. His dingy white shirt clung to his muscular back, and his hands were shoved in his pockets.

“You ready to go?” he asked without turning.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” She moved the blanket to the side and stretched. Today was the big day… again.

Asher faced her for the first time that morning, and he actually had a smile on his face. “You look like you slept good.”

“I don’t remember it, so I must have.” She rolled over on her knees and pushed up on her good foot.

“Here, hold on.” He ran across and steadied her. Once she had her balance, he helped her to the column closest to the steps, so she could lean on it.

“Thanks,” she said, wondering how in the world she was going to walk all the way down to the road when standing was a chore.

“You’re welcome,” he said.

She kept waiting for him to back up, but he didn’t.

“Here.” He reached for her coat on the floor. “As hot as you are in leather, I think you need your coat more.”

Rachel’s breath caught. Hot? Asher thought she was hot? Maybe he just meant hot as in weather hot? Like the opposite of cold? There was no way he could think of her in
that other
way. Especially not after yesterday.

“Yeah, yeah. You need yours back too. I think it looks better on you anyway.”

His lips curved, stretching the moon-shaped scar. “You think I look good in it, eh?”

Um…
“Better than me anyway.”

She wished he wouldn’t look at her like that. This was the same guy that almost ruined something that meant so much to her. The same guy who twelve hours ago couldn’t stand her.

“I’m giving your jacket back. So that means I need mine,” he said, his gaze leaving a trail on her body.

“Yeah. Of course.” She fumbled with the zipper. Her fingers didn’t seem to want to work. A few days out in the woods would do that.

After a few unsuccessful attempts, Rachel looked up into Asher’s amused eyes and had to laugh herself. Better to laugh than to cry. “I’ll help you with that,” he said, inching even closer.

“No thanks. I’ve got it.” She prayed her fingers would cooperate.

“No, you don’t.” He laughed. “Plus, knowing you, you'll unzip it too hard and topple over, and as funny as that might be to watch, I doubt it would be fun for you. So just suck it up and accept my help. Okay?”

Well, when he put it that way. “Fine,” she huffed.

Asher smiled and focused on the zipper, which was fastened right below her neck. He held her collar with his fingers. His knuckles lightly grazed her jaw, leaving a warm wake. With his other hand, he took the zipper and in one sudden jerk, yanked it down until it opened. The force threw her forward, and he caught her.

“Thanks,” she said, pushing off his chest until she was leaning back on the column. Under the jacket, her teal, long-sleeved shirt had seen better days. Once the air hit her, she felt goose bumps rising. She pulled his jacket off her shoulders and handed it to him, shivering. He picked hers up and helped her put it on. When he had it zipped up, he took her curls and eased them out of her collar.

****

There was a moment, a brief moment, when Asher thought about kissing her again. Their first kiss had been so innocent. Her first, no doubt. It had been… pure, and he couldn’t say that about many things in his life.

It was going to be a long day, a stressful day; and he selfishly wanted a moment to enjoy, a moment he could hold on to. A moment where he could forget about being lost in the woods, in the cold, cut off from the main road, missing his friends, all of it.

But the moment came and went. After what he’d done to her Bible and how he’d treated her, he didn’t deserve to kiss her. “We’d better get going,” he whispered, backing away, and trying to clear the knot in his throat.

“Yeah,” she said with a dazed, confused look. Could she have possibly known what was going on in his head? Would she hold it against him?

“We need to eat breakfast before we leave.” He helped her sit on the steps and handed her a bag of chips. It was their last each. They ate in silence.

When they were finished, Asher packed the blankets and whatever else they had strewn around the gazebo. Rachel cleaned up the empty chip bags and put them in Sid’s backpack. There wasn’t room for all of their belongings, Asher’s bag, and Sid’s bag, so Asher decided to leave his behind. It didn’t mean anything to him anyway. He took it out of Rachel’s and crammed Sid’s in its place.

Without saying a word, Asher helped her up. She put her arm around his shoulders in a now familiar position. He bent down to get their backpack, slung it on his back, and helped her down the stairs. Once down the steps, they said good-bye to their home for the past two days.