Shadows of Hope

Chapter 2

Hacking coughs akin to a cat spitting up a fur ball draw me out of the intriguing daydream. Apparently Fireball isn't going to be an acceptable nickname. 

Having my attention, I become aware that her plump bow shaped lips are once again disappearing in that tight line she loves. "I have a name you know.  How would you like it if I called you Big Ego Maniac?"

One again, agitation is building up, a volcano ready to spew.

Childish, I know, but I can't resist mimicking her voice, "I have a name you know." It's a poor imitation of her higher pitched tone but I could care less.  Annoying her has become a source of amusement in a crapy situation. 

Endeavoring to be the bigger person, she simply sighs loudly in my ear, refusing any ounce of fun to seep through that concrete wall she has erected. 

Abruptly, we come to a halt as the proverbial light bulb sparks to life.

Turning my head slightly and tilting my chin down I force her to look me dead in the eye. "You do know who I am, right?"  My question is laced with a dose of suspicion and a hint of confusion.  Long Way To Eden, my first movie, has become a blockbuster hit in the span of a mere five weeks.  Not only do I co-star with legendary Hank Warrick but I also sing three of the songs on the soundtrack. Advertisements in magazines, on Billboards, and online commercials bombard the public with news of the flick. 

"Apparently you're my knight in shining armor" she deadpans with a furrow of her brow.  "Of course I don't know who you are. This is the first time we've met." Her condescending tone begs the impression that she finds me a bit dense, an assumption which causes my blood to boil.  I loathe being judged solely on my outside appearance and country accent, as if a dimple and some sculpted muscles make up for any brains or personality I possess.    

"If you don't realize who I am then you've been living under a rock lady." It's all
I permit myself to say.  There's no use trying to persuade a woman, who I'm certainly never going to meet again, of all the positive qualities I possess. 

Pale skin dotted with tiny mocha-colored freckles heats up, spreading a rosy hue across high cheekbones.  Whether out of embarrassment or vexation, she ducks her head away from mine, refusing to speak. Her body is almost completely rigid, as though she is trying to hold herself back from relaxing into me. 

My leg muscles tighten and cramp from the extra load I am carrying.  A dull pain spreads up the left calf indicating I need to take a break.  About 10 yards down the pathway is a lovingly crafted cedar park bench.  Nodding my head in its direction I announce, "we'll stop there for a breather." 

Upon reaching the bench, I carefully set her down, attempting to minimize any jarring of her injury. Silently, she reclines back and closes her eyes.  Her mouth pinches at the edges as her fingers dig into the wood planks, betraying her discomfort. 

A faded white sign is tacked to a nearby tree reading: .5 miles. Relief settles in my chest, a blanket of warmth around my heart.  Half a mile and I'll be free of my good samaritan duties. 

Bending from the waist, I complete a few stretches, desperate for any alleviation from the recent exertion, as a family of five walks by.  The mother reads a trail guide while the little boy stares intently at his compass. 

Twin girls, about the age of 12, giggle as they cast blatant glances my way. Rosy blushes paint their cheeks as I bestow a megawatt smile, ending with a small wave in their direction. Awe, wonder, vulnerability...these emotions flit across their round faces, reminding me of a little boy who used to feel the exact same way every time his father took him to the Grand Ole Opry...until that day when it all changed. 

The family continues their trek up the trail but the image of the little boy remains etched in mind-sight.  Refusing to wallow in self-pity, I stomp over to the bench and tap Sassafras on the shoulder.  "We need to move it. I have a tight schedule today." 

Her eyes widen briefly at my gruff tone before minimizing to slits. Pushing off the bench too quickly, she falters before I catch her under the arms, lifting her up against my chest and off her ankle.  Once again we glare at each other, neither one of us wanting to appear weak.  Finally she emits a low growl.  "Just get me to the car." 

"Gladly." 

I sweep her up into my arms and we make the .5 mile hike back in complete silence.  A tall blonde sprints toward us just as my feet hit the gravel parking lot. 

"Faith!" Skidding to a halt a foot in front of us her frantic gaze flits up and down before settling on our faces. "What happened? I've been waiting for over an hour. I was worried something happened to you." 

A cherry tomato red spreads down her neck as she ruefully answers, "I'm ok Tossie. I tripped and sprained my ankle up on the trail. This man had to carry me all the way down."  Nodding briefly in the blonde's direction I lower Faith until she can lean heavily on the shoulder of her friend, no longer needing my assistance.

Wrapping an arm tightly about Faith's waist, Tossie thanks me profusely for my heroic rescue.  This elicits a grunt from Faith, mumbling something about me 'not being hero material.'

Satisfied I am in the clear, I stay long enough to watch the two women maneuver into a bright blue car before heading East out of the park.  The reflection off of a metallic FitNow gym sticker and a puff of exhaust fumes are the last thing I see as the vehicle rounds a curve. 

Walking over to my burnt orange Ford F250, I take a long swig from the Yeti I had left sitting in the cupholder before cranking up the engine and driving to meet with my best friend Colton at his family's cafe.  As I pass the sign indicating I've reached the Nashville city limits, my thoughts drift to a brown-haired mess more prickly than an Arizona cactus. 

Perhaps it's not just me who has built up walls so high no one can ever scale them.

_______________________________________________________

Will Zade and Faith meet again in better cirumstances?

Why do they attempt to hide from the world, each in their own way?

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