Once Upon a Road Trip (17 page)

“I got it,” Zak said, stepping to the cash register with an open wallet. “I had to get extra for my mom and my sister, anyway. They love this bread.”

Angie wasn’t sure if he was using courtesy to his family to cover for his continued habit of paying for her, but she decided not to protest his generosity. 

What she -was- fairly certain about was that their doe-eyed cashier, who she guessed to be around the age of fifteen, was taking every opportunity to stare at Zak while she rang up his purchases. Zak didn’t seem to notice.

Angie couldn’t  blame the girl. It was almost as though he possessed his own gravitational pull. The fact that he seemed completely unaware of this only compounded the effect — so much so that she’d already caught herself unconsciously leaning toward him on more than one occasion. To her it was an unfamiliar phenomenon, this unnervingly literal take on the term “physical attraction.” She’d been hesitant to acknowledge it, but the effect was becoming impossible to ignore.

“Merci,” Zak thanked with a nod. He grabbed up the bread loaves and headed for the door while the cashier followed him with her eyes.

Angie thought the girl looked ready to swoon over the fact that he’d spoken to her. Suppressing a chuckle, she grabbed up her small bag of sweets and followed Zak out.

Leaving two of the bags of bread in the car, they made their way across the tiny village to a dirt path that wove its way into the forest. They walked side by side, with Zak passively leading the way. Soon the trees became widely spaced, permitting countless shafts of sunlight to breach the canopy and illuminate the mossy ground.

Angie thought of the woods behind her house, where she’d often wandered as a child. As calming as their shady depths had been at the time, the image of steeply knifing ravines with their thick carpeting of dead leaves paled in comparison to this. She looked to Zak, though he was ever intent on monitoring the trail ahead of them. The silence between them was a natural one, and she was surprised when he was the one to break it.

“Here,” Zak said as the forest around them gave way to a clearing. “This place is really old. Eighteen hundreds, I think.” He pointed ahead several meters to a framing line of decaying iron fence before wading into the tall grass.

Angie followed after him, curiously surveying the meadow. Toward the middle of the clearing the greenery was studded with rounded stones of varying sizes — none more than a foot and a half in diameter. As they drew closer she noticed their spacing was oddly regular. By the time she’d become certain of the intelligent arrangement, the purpose of the place dawned on her. She stopped in her tracks several feet away from the first row of overgrown markers.

“It’s…a cemetery?”

Several paces ahead, Zak came to a halt and turned back to her with a vague look of concern. “Yeah. I mean…you’re okay with that, right? Not too creepy in the middle of the day?” He formed a dubious smile. “I’m pretty sure it’s been a good century since they added any new residents.”

“No, not creepy.” Angie laughed, deciding she wouldn’t have to conceal the fascination she already had with the place. She made her way down one of the rows, searching for discernible markings that might still remain etched into the headstones. “I’ve just never seen a cemetery that was so…I don’t know. Pretty?”

“Peaceful?” Zak volunteered, slipping his free hand into the front pocket of his khakis. He stood by, casting a sweeping gaze out across the meadow. 

“Peaceful.” She nodded in agreement. The small graveyard was unlike any she’d ever visited. In spite of its purpose, there was no sense of foreboding or rigid order. The forgotten quietness was more charming than disconcerting.

Angie stooped to brush away caked dirt and other debris from the worn face of one of the basketball-sized stones. The shape of a dove was still visible carved into the upper portion, and half of the name below the year. She moved on to the next stone. “1828 to 1834… 1826 to 1833… 1830 to 1834.” She spoke the dates aloud to herself at first. In a tentative tone, she finally shared her suspicion. “Zak…I think it’s a children’s cemetery.”

“Take off.  …Really?” He breathed out, a look of intrigue lighting his features. He walked several dozen yards off to the farthest row of stones and began his own investigation. After several minutes he seemed convinced. “I don’t see any that made it to twelve.” He frowned. “I remember hearing something about a cholera outbreak in my Canadian history class. That would probably explain why most of them were put here within the same year or two.”

“That makes sense. How sad…” Angie murmured, though the words were more obligatory than heartfelt. The idea of so many children being buried here was certainly dismal, but cemetery itself didn’t evoke any sadness in her. For whatever reason, she felt just as tranquil as she had before the revelation.

“I keep thinking I should feel worse about it, you know?” Zak said, looking conflicted. “I mean, it’s horrible all of these kids died before they had a chance—even if it was a really long time ago. Is it weird that I always liked it here?”

Angie gave Zak a reassuring smile. “I don’t think it’s weird. Like you said…it was a long time ago.”

If anything, we’re both weird. And that’s just fine with me.

Zak gave an absent nod and turned, motioning for her to follow him. Across the cemetery the path resumed, taking them deeper into the forest. Angie gave him some time to his thoughts before making an attempt at lightening the mood.

“Are we going to eat that, or are you using it to leave a trail once we find the gingerbread house?” she joked, pointing to the bread loaf he’d been carrying in the crook of his elbow.

“We’re almost there.” Zak glanced her way, smirking.

Ahead, the gurgling sound of moving water grew to fill the air just before the forest floor yielded to the broad banks of a creek bed. Clear and fast-moving, the water surged over rounded chunks of sandstone and slapped at the ferns that encroached along its borders. An old wooden bridge arched over the creek, connecting the paths on either side. When Angie started toward it, Zak held out his arm in a staying motion.

“Hang on, I’ll go first.” He stepped forward as he spoke, cautiously testing his weight over small sections of the weathered planking.

Angie held back, idly considering methods of rescue in the event he fell through into the water. Not that she thought he’d actually need rescuing. From studying his movements more intently, she had the distinct impression he was prepared to spring out of his relaxed demeanor at a moment’s notice. Something about the broadness of his shoulders and the taut movement of the muscles along his back made her want to shiver, in spite of the heat of the day.

Oh, good grief. Down girl.

She shook her head slightly to clear it.

By then, Zak had reached the middle of the bridge and turned toward the railing. He eased into a crouch and then sat down, allowing his legs to dangle over the water. “It’s fine. Come on,” he called, waving to her.

Angie made her way out to join him, careful to follow close to the route he’d taken. The boards complained at her weight, but none threatened to give way. Dropping down to sit, she settled herself as close to him as she dared while keeping her gaze on the creek below.

Zak slid the bread out of its bag and broke the loaf in half, handing one portion to her. He pinched off a crusty piece of his own half and ate it, brushing the crumbs off his knee. The moment the sprinkle of bread bits touched the water, a swarm of minnows darted to the surface to claim them.

“Do you think those kids are in a good place? Like, heaven, I mean...” Zak voiced what had apparently been weighing on his mind. He turned his head aside and his dark eyes assessed her. His expression was enigmatic, but his tone carried a distant air of concern.

“Yeah. I do.” Angie answered with certain ease, giving him a reassuring smile. “No reason to think anything else.”

“Maybe that’s why it feels okay to be there.” Zak went on, making short work of his remaining bread. He brushed his lap clean and used his arms to prop himself up as he lounged back, staring up at the sky where the canopy parted. “I don’t know much about all of that afterlife stuff... easier not to think about it. But I figure somebody like you must know how it works.”

Somebody like me. What does he mean by that?

Angie made slower progress on her bread. She savored each bite, finding comfort in the familiar smell and taste. “Well, I know life is short. For some, incredibly so.” She looked off down the path for a moment. “And I know no one’s guaranteed to have a tomorrow. So, to me, it’s worth doing a lot of thinking on it.” She stopped herself from any further rambling, afraid of sounding preachy. She wasn’t sure if Zak was genuinely curious, or just thinking out loud.

“So is that what getting run over by a truck did for you—?” He gave her an amused half-smile. “Made you all deep?”

Angie mustered a small smile. “It did have a pretty significant affect on the way I see the world.” Finishing her bread, she dusted off her palms and eased back onto her elbows, mimicking him in reclining.

“Eve keeps talking about looking for a church once Obie finally gets here. I might go with them, if they find one.” Zak said, after an extended pause in which he seemed preoccupied with a passing cloud. “You know…maybe becoming a mom is having the same affect on my sister as being in a car accident had on you.”

Angie gave a light chuckle. “That’s an interesting theory. You might have something there.” Perhaps his astuteness rivaled that of his sister.

As cloud watching brought a return to silence, Angie found herself weighing an impulsive idea.

If he actually wanted to, this would be a great time to hold my hand.

She glanced down at their hands — there was less than an inch between them where they rested. She debated working up the courage to brush her fingers against his, if only to see his reaction.

I could make it seem like an accident…

After several failed minutes of willing their hands to touch, she made an inquiry in her mind.
What do you think, God? Should I just suck it up and grab his hand? That ought to make it perfectly obvious I like him.

As if to answer her question, she abruptly recalled a conversation she’d had with Zak several months prior. He’d complained to the online community that he was skipping his prom because no one had asked him to it. Still sore over her own disastrous prom experience, Angie had questioned why he wasn’t the one doing the asking. He’d teased her about being old fashioned, and then asserted his preference for not being the one to ‘make the first move.’

That made sense. If he did like her then, in all probability, he was waiting on her to do something about it. All she had to do was work up enough nerve—

She cut the thought short when another consideration surfaced. Her mother had always assured her that she should never have to chase after a guy. Rather than citing it as a matter of tradition, it was explained as an adage that now latched onto her mind like the jaws of a indomitable pitbull: “Don’t expect a man will try any harder to keep you than he did to get you.”

If the mom-ism held true, then she had to consider if she wanted to set a precedent for being the one in pursuit. It was enough to dampen whatever power her fluttering stomach held over her logical mind.

And then, of course, there was the possibility of being outright rejected.
What would he want with a plain-looking, impossibly weird American girl, anyway?
her cynicism demanded.

Finally settling on inaction, she rocked forward and sat up, pulling her hands into her lap.

Zak broke off his fixation with the sky and gave her a lazy smile. “Ready to head back?”

“Sure.”

Angie returned the smile, silently hoping she wouldn’t end up regretting the opportunity she’d just let slip away.

June 22
,

Another enjoyable, fascinating day. I was introduced to Zak’s oldest sister, Eve. Not wanting to be stuck home alone, she stayed here today. I liked her right away. Despite being in the early stages of labor, she was remarkably pleasant. And if she thought I was crazy, she at least did a masterful job of keeping it to herself.

Zak and I did some hiking along the Canadian Shield, followed by lunch at a historic little village. When we got back, we made nachos and just hung around watching late night comedy shows. Eve went home in the evening. I doubt now that the baby will be coming while I’m still around. I guess I’ll have to find out over the phone how Zak handles becoming an uncle.

Zak has been great company. Even though I think we’re both still a little unsure about each other, he’s been nothing but sweet. It’s probably for the best that I’m leaving tomorrow. I think it would be easy for me to get too fond of him. I know, I know…there’s something cliché about that. The heroine initially wanting to clobber a protagonist male, but later realizing that he’s grown on her and she actually really likes him. Technically, I’m not supposed to find that appealing. But maybe real life is a lot more cliché than anyone wants to admit. Or maybe there’s just a fine, subjective line between the cliché and the poetic. 

I really wish I didn’t have to leave tomorrow. I never expected Ottawa to become one of my favorite places. I’m honestly going to miss it here, but I know I have to keep going.

New York awaits.

Status: Still sleeping more than usual, but I haven’t noticed a fever since I crossed into Canada. Maybe the worst is behind me. 

~Ang

Part 2

“An adventure is only an inconvenience rightly considered. An inconvenience is an adventure wrongly considered.”  

               – G. K. Chesterton

Chapter 11

June 23
,

A Fond Farewell