Scout,you’re not answering my calls. Or mytexts. Pretty sure that means you’re ignoring me,butI’m gonna keep trying anyway. Please pick up. Weneed to talk. I need to explain.
Look,aboutPrecipice Trail. I shouldn’t have left like that. Iknew you could handle yourself—you’re that kind ofwoman. The kind who doesn’t need rescuing. And Irespect the heck out of that. But still,I should’ve handled things differently. I’m sorry. Truly sorry.
So,the story is going to run in tomorrow’s morningedition. I did my best to make sure it wasfair. Hope you think so too.
Any chance you’ll forgive me? Or can we at least talk inperson? You name the time and place. I’ll comerunning.
Actually,tomorrow night is best for me. Expecting acrazy busy day.
Scout?
Fourteen
Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees.
—John Muir, conservationist
The skies were clearing up, bringing bright sunshine and a cool breeze. Scout sat on Sand Beach, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, her ranger hat by her feet. Much of Acadia, she realized now, was rather noisy. Wind, waves, seabirds. But here, on this rare, sandy strip of beach, there was a quiet. A holy quiet.
Then a pair of seagulls squabbled over something or other, their cries sharp and startling. She frowned at them, not wanting them to break the silence, not wanting to disrupt the overwhelming peace she felt.
The beach had been nearly empty when Scout arrived but was starting to fill up as the day’s weather rapidly improved. The breeze carried a salty chill, but the cold wasn’t what made her shiver. She rested her chin on her knees, staring out at the ocean glistening under the afternoon sun.
Chase had never returned to find her on Precipice Trail. Disappointing ... but not surprising. In fact, she’d expectedas much when he left her there. She’d learned to expect disappointments from the men in her life.
But this afternoon, traversing down the trail, it dawned on her that she might be guilty of projecting that same disappointment onto God. Notentirelytrustworthy. Not dependable when itreallymattered. She’d never put it into words before, but now it sat in her mind like a truth she couldn’t ignore. That wasn’t the right way to think about God. He’d been there, all along. Like today, on Precipice Trail. She wasn’t left on her own just because Chase had taken off. Nor when her dad had abandoned his family. She’d asked for a lifeline and, boy oh boy, did it ever come. Loud and clear.
On the sand next to her, tucked safely inside her ranger hat, were two small brass boxes full of gold coins.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps crunching on the sand. She turned her head just slightly to see Naki lower himself onto the ground beside her, his silence as solid as the mountain he seemed to be carved from. He didn’t say a word—no questions, no explanations as to why he was here. He just sat there, letting his quiet presence wrap around her like a blanket.
Scout glanced at him from the corner of her eye. His sheer size made her feel small, but in a way that no longer felt intimidating. “How did you know where to find me?”
“I saw your jeep on the road,” he said. “Your lights were left on.”
She slapped a palm on her forehead. “I forgot! It was still raining when I got here.”
“I turned them off.”
Argh! That meant she had left the jeep unlocked too. So unlike her! But she’d been on a mission to get to Sand Beach before the tide turned.
“So, I take it you climbed Precipice in the rain? Alone?”
“Only about two-thirds of it. And I wasn’t alone, not at first. Chase was with me. Actually, the day started before dawn at Cadillac. Then we tackled Precipice. The rain started after Chase left.” Not much after he left, to be perfectly honest. She didn’t really need to defend him. It was a habit, she supposed, from her upbringing. She was always defending her dad. “I sure do know how Precipice got its name.”
“The very edge.” He frowned. “I can’t believe Chase left you there.”
“Well, Iama ranger.” She let out a puff of air. “But I can’t deny there was a point when I thought I might be meetin’ my maker.” She grinned. “Not such a bad thing. It can be an illuminatin’ experience.”
He turned to her. “To know you’re not alone.”
“Yes! Yes, exactly.” She turned to him, amazed. How did he know what she’d been thinking? “So, all in all, it was a rather valuable hike.”
“Scout, you could’ve been badly injured ... or worse. There wasn’t a Precipice Trail in the 1800s.”
“About two-thirds up, on a very narrow ledge, with lightning lightin’ up the sky and thunder blastin’ my eardrums, it hit me what the clue meant. And I knew I wasn’t in the right place. I turned around and came right down.” Well, not exactlyrightdown. She had moved slowly, cautiously, each step placed with care. The storm had passed as quickly as it came, thankfully, so she wasn’t descending through rain. She paused, squeezing her arms around her knees, and he gave her the space to take her time, to gather her thoughts. To talk if she wanted to, to not talk if she didn’t.
Resting her head on her knees, she looked over at him. “What did you preach on?”
