The Middle of Somewhere(70)

Leave no trace.

? ? ?

At Lake Marjorie they searched for twenty minutes before locating a campsite hidden from the trail, a hundred feet above the lake, tucked behind boulders the size of trucks. Their first chore was to fill all their water containers—including the cooking pot—so they wouldn’t have to venture down to the exposed shore until they set out the next morning. They worked quickly and in silence, taking turns pumping the filter. They washed their faces and hands in the icy water, and scurried up the slope without bothering to dry off.

While Liz erected the tent, Dante set up the kitchen and inflated the mattresses. Every few minutes he climbed atop the boulders and peered over the edge to scout for Paul and Linda, calling himself Tonto.

“What are you planning to do when you see them?” Liz asked. “There’s no space for them to camp up here.”

“I want to make sure Linda’s all right.”

“I’ve been concerned about her, too. But it’s only four o’clock. Even if they don’t get here for another two hours, it’ll still be light. They’ll make camp by the lake.”

A half hour later, he waved her up to his perch. “Look who’s here.”

She flattened her body on the sun-warmed stone. Payton and Rodell strode along the lake margin, heads down. “They don’t seem to be looking for a site. Maybe they’re going up over the pass.”

“Another one? This late in the day?”

“Probably another dare in contention for a Darwin Award.”

“They don’t know where we are, so you can relax.”

A small reprieve.

A while later the evening breeze carried voices from below. The McCartneys had arrived and ditched their packs. Linda sat on a log while Paul inspected the two campsites visible from the trail.

Dante opened his mouth to call to them, but Liz placed a hand on his arm. “The Roots could be within earshot. Paul and Linda seem perfectly fine.”

“You’re right, carina.” He slid down the rock, crossed to the kitchen area and bent to stir the soup. “We’ll talk to them tomorrow. We could even hike together.”

“Safety in numbers?”

“Yes, as you are worried about the Roots.”

She noticed he didn’t say “we.” “Maybe.”

Dante put the lid on and turned to her. “Why ‘maybe’?”

“I guess I’m still hoping this’ll become the hike I imagined.”

His face drooped.

“I didn’t mean the solo part,” she said, laying a hand on his cheek. “I meant the contemplative, serene part. Or, at the very least, the not-creeped-out-by-stalkers part. Or the not-attacked-by-falling-rocks part.”

“Or the not-confess-your-most-shameful-moments part?”

“Yeah. That.”

She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat and, on the pretense of assembling the bowls and sporks, turned away.

“I want to tell you something, Liz.”

She noted his serious tone and lowered herself onto a rock. “What is it?”

“When we were in Mexico with my family, I only shared part of the conversation I had with my parents about my sister. And about Rico’s role in the family business.” He would not meet her gaze. “I was upset about Emilia. Maybe I was seeing it through your eyes a little. My parents—my father—was judging Emilia without even talking to her, and was taking Rico’s side. I told him that just because Rico was his right-hand man—excuse me, his son—didn’t mean his daughter should count for nothing.”

“What did he say?”

“He said his mind was made up and it wasn’t my business.” He looked at Liz with a pained expression. “I lost my temper.”

“Did you say something you didn’t mean? Couldn’t you simply apologize?”

“That’s the problem. I told the truth. I admitted that I never intended to work with him—for him. I knew it before I even left for college. I never told him because he wouldn’t have paid for it. I couldn’t have gone.” He studied her, measuring her reaction.

Six years of full tuition, plus full support in the lifestyle to which Dante had been accustomed. A quarter of a million dollars, or more. No wonder Se?or Espinoza was miffed. On the other hand, Dante was determined to make it on his own, and believed an American education was his ticket, despite the fact that lots of people with fewer advantages than he enjoyed succeeded without a free ride to a U.S. college. “I’m not sure what to think.”