As soon as they left the library, Kirk picked up a basket sitting near the door. He nodded toward the left and they walked a short distance, then he turned and began following a well-worn path that led into the shady area of the woods that grew up right next to the town.
It felt cooler once they were sheltered from the sun. Dappled spots of sunshine moved as the leaves responded to the light breeze. It was hushed in the woods, only the sound of their footsteps and birds singing in the distance. A few puddles werevisible from yesterday’s storm, but the ground underfoot for the most part was packed and dry.
Angelica was enchanted. She followed, not talking. Sometimes she watched Kirk as he took long strides and seemed to be part of the nature they invaded. He was comfortable in this environment. She watched the path, lifted her gaze to the leafy roof over their heads, took a breath of the fragrant air. The trilling of the birds could almost be set to music, she thought, hurrying to keep up with him.
The path was well defined. She wouldn’t get lost even if he went ahead. She wondered about the early settlers to this area. If the trees had always grown so close together, so thick, it was a wonder anyone had carved out a place in Kentucky.
When she heard the gurgling of a brook, she searched ahead of them. It had to be close. It sounded lovely. Two minutes later they stepped into a wide clearing where a rock-strewn brook roughly cut the space in half. The water splashed against and over the small stones and rocks, twisting almost back on itself once, and then headed straight down into the trees.
“This is magical,” she said, taking in the pretty clearing.
Sunshine kissed the grass beneath the opening in the trees. The water gave a tireless melody. The bird song topped it off.
“Can you hear the water?”
“When I’m this close I can. I remember as a kid hearing it long before I reached the opening.”
“Why aren’t trees growing here?”
He put down the basket, opened it and brought out a red-and-white checked tablecloth. Shaking it out to spread on the ground, he said, “No one knows. But as long as I’ve been coming here it’s been open like this. Almost as if there’s something in the soil toxic to trees. Yet there’s other vegetation growing, so it’s not sterile soil.”
Angelica knelt down on the edge of the cloth as he began unpacking the lunch. Cold fried chicken, buttered rolls, potato salad, and iced drinks. In no time she was enjoying the meal as much as she enjoyed the setting.
He didn’t talk and neither did she. Her gaze darted around as she memorized the place. Closing her eyes once, she tried to imprint the sound of the brook and the rustle of the leaves and the bird song forever on her memory. Would she be able to recall this special moment when she was stomping through the slushy New York winters?
“Very nice,” she said when she opened her eyes. Kirk leaned back on one elbow and studied the stream.
“I thought you’d like it.”
“Do you come here often?”
She leaned back on one hand, staring at the brook. The water glinted in the sunshine, the pleasing sound soothing. Now that she’d eaten, she could almost take a nap.
“I haven’t lately. It’s not exactly a place to come alone. I eat at home.”
“Thank you for bringing me, it’s lovely.”
“In a while, we can hike upstream a bit. About a mile farther is a waterfall which dumps into a swimming hole. We could go swimming, it’s hot enough.”
“I don’t have a suit,” she said.
“Me either, so?”
Angelica looked at him. The teasing light in his eyes gave him away. She swallowed and shook her head. He laughed.
The image of the two of them swimming without a stitch on wouldn’t leave. She’d never been skinny-dipping. But she’d bet lunch that Kirk had more than once. Who with, she wondered? Girlfriends from high school? Was there a special woman in his life now? Probably not or he wouldn’t be so available. Were the women in Smoky Hollow blind?
They left the picnic basket at the edge of the clearing. Kirk said it’d be safe, and there was no reason to carry it up and back.
The stream meandered. The path along its side wasn’t as well defined as the one from town to the clearing had been. Sometimes they stepped over exposed roots of trees, around clumps of ferns. Once they crossed on stepping stones. Angelica wished she’d brought her phone. But it was back at the cottage turned off so her parents couldn’t reach her.
She’d never expected to be hopping from rock to rock to get across some stream of water when she awoke that morning. She laughed and Kirk turned to look at her.
“This is very different from New York City,” she explained.
“Better?”
She nodded, scrambling to catch up. He seemed to walk along at the same pace no matter what the terrain. She was a bit out of breath keeping up with him. And while the path was primarily in shade, it was growing warmer by the minute.
