The A.T.

Chapter 1

April 2008

I walked into the coffee shop and immediately realized I had made a mistake in not sending out any specifications on what I looked like, or what I'd wear, or where I'd sit. I had decided on a pair of khaki-colored cargo pants, a black thermal long sleeve top, and a pair of black Doc Marten boots. Not completely hiking gear, but the closest I could come up with out of my dorm room closet. This was not a meeting where I wanted to look cute.

I walked past the glass case filled with scones and muffins and cookies and entered the seating section, scanning the area; luckily it was almost empty. At a two-top near the window I saw a man looking at me. He smiled as he stood up and began walking towards me.

"19 year old female?" he asked.

"You must be 28 year old male," I replied.

He stuck out his hand and I shook it. Or, rather, he shook me, he had a powerfully strong grip. I looked him over, he was powerfully strong everywhere. He was maybe 5'10", 5'11", but broad. Broad chest, broad shoulders, and incredibly muscular arms. I couldn't see them; he was wearing a long sleeve plaid flannel shirt, but I could tell by the way his biceps were straining the fabric that he could probably bench press three of me, easily.

"I'm Jaime," he said, "but most people call me Jay."

"Emily."

"I got you some coffee," he said, as he sat back down. "It's just black since I didn't know how you liked it."

"Thanks," I said, as I took the seat across from him. I had walked past the counter completely forgetting to stop and order, so focused and anxious to meet this man. I took a sip of the coffee, studying him over the rim. Bright piercing blue eyes, close set, above a long nose with a hump near the top, likely from a break. A small mouth with thin lips. Tan skin topped with dirty blonde hair, clipped close at the sides and brushed forward on top. Individually nothing special, but he was one of those people for whom it all came together somehow and worked. Except for the eyes. I found them again, searching me as I searched him. They were exceptional. Light and clear, aquamarine, sparkling in the hanging lamp between us. Eyes that betrayed the brilliance behind them.

"So you want to hike the Appalachian Trail?" he asked, leaning back.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Well, it's the summer between my freshman and sophomore year of college. My summer job fell through, so I'm taking it as an opportunity. I just want to get away, you know, unplug, and think about what I want to do with my life. I have to pick a major soon and I have no idea what I want to do right now. What about you?"

"I don't know; just want to get away from some stuff for a while."

"But why do you want to go with me? I mean, you're obviously capable of taking care of yourself. Why not just go alone?"

Here he leaned in, resting his forearms on the table. The strangest smile climbed over his face, like a Cheshire cat. "That's the best part," he paused, looking at me, his grin spreading slowly from one side of his mouth to the other, "I'm a recovering alcoholic, and you're nineteen!" He burst out laughing and pushed back in his seat.

I just sat there, stunned. What? I had not seen this coming.

He continued to look at me and laugh, endlessly amused by what he thought was a hilarious joke.

"Look," he said, turning serious, "you're nineteen. Meaning you can't go into bars or drink. Well, not legally at least; I don't remember it stopping me much at your age. But I'll promise to stay with you, and if I have a responsibility like that, I follow through. If I were to go by myself, I wouldn't trust myself, say at a town to pick up supplies, not to stop by a bar for just one drink, or pick up a fifth to bring up to my camp, and wind up falling off a cliff. And yeah, I got buddies who I could probably get to come with me, but they're not interested in drying out, so I doubt we'd make it much past the airport bar. This, this is a good deal, for both of us."

"How is this a good deal for me?"

"I'm assuming your Mommy and Daddy aren't going to let you go alone. And you must not have found any friends to join you, or you wouldn't be posting online," he said, having deduced my obvious dilemma. "Look, you have nothing to worry about. I'll go with you, and kill any spiders, or whatever else you need."

I pondered the situation. "Can I ask, what exactly it is you do for a living where you can get this kind of time off? No one else seems to be able to."

"I'm, uh," he paused, seeming to think for an answer. "Self-employed. Kind of in-between things at the moment, I can take the time."

What was that supposed to mean? Could he be into something illegal? Was this trip a way for him to hide from the cops? No, if he was on the run from the cops he wouldn't be starting the trail with a flight that would involve showing his license. He could get a ride to the trail right here in Pennsylvania only a couple hours away and be off without a trace. Perhaps he was a house flipper, currently in between jobs because of the housing market crisis. Or a seasonal worker, a guy who cleared treacherous snow-filled driveways by hand with a shovel, faster than any snow plow could do.  Those arms...

"Emily?"

My mind had wandered too long. "I don't want you to kill any spiders, they're important members of the ecosystem," I added, lost in the conversation.

"So, it's settled? I'm assuming I'll need to meet your folks, get their approval?"

I blushed. "Yeah, you'll need to do that. At least my Dad." There was no way he was going to let me go hiking alone for five months with a twenty-eight year old man he'd never met.

"That's fine," he said, "I'm good with parents," and again he smiled, slightly devilishly.

"Can you do this weekend? They live over in Ardmore. And then maybe we can work on making a list of what we need, and I can show you what I already have."

"Sure. Give me your number." We exchanged phone numbers.

"All right. Text me their address and the time when you have it," he said, as he got up and left, walking swiftly out the door without looking back.

I remained seated and thought about it. He looked trust-worthy, despite some of his unexpected answers. I had good instincts. My mother had taught me about reading people, and I believed I was good at it, even if Dad and my brothers thought it was hogwash. That and the fact that I didn't exactly have any other options, and I wanted to try to leave within the next ten days. All I needed was for him to pass muster with my parents and get on that plane.