* * *
In the last ninety-three minutes, North’s confidence had continued to spiral downward. His usual posture of self-assurance bordering upon arrogance had wilted into hunched shoulders and slack arms. As Marigold gasped and wheezed toward the museum, his back was to her, but she still registered the defeat in his body.
She slowed her pace. Her own confidence dared to grow.
His ears pricked up as if receiving some subtle signal, and he turned to face her. Shoulders pulling back. Chin rising.
Marigold stopped when she was still several feet shy. “Sorry I’m late. Thanks for waiting.” Her voice was a little breathless.
“You, too,” North said.
“And thanks for the sandwich.”
He winced.
“I’m serious, it was good. I was really hungry.”
“Sorry about the you-know-what. I didn’t even think of it until you’d left.”
A smile broke through her cautious reserve. North had remembered. “So, was my interpretation correct?” she asked. “Are you officially a vegetarian?”
“Your mom would be proud.”
“She’d ask why you still eat dairy.”
North laughed unexpectedly. Her heart panged in response. He had a great laugh—funny and deep. “How’s she doing, anyway?”
“Good. Pretty good, at least.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” he said. The sentiment was sincere. North and her mother got along well, which was remarkable because Marigold’s mother didn’t care for most men. Marigold’s father had always been sort of awful, but they hadn’t known how awful until a year and a half ago when his other wife had surprised them on their doorstep.
It was taking a while to get over those scars.
Her father had never been around much—his work in orthopedic sales kept him away for weeks at a time, he’d claimed—but her mother had been fine with that. She clung to her free-spirit identity to an extent that verged upon irony. And she’d never been his legal wife, only a partner. It was why Marigold shared her mother’s Chinese surname and not her white father’s Irish surname. Unfortunately, this was also why, when his actual wife showed up, they’d lost their house and most of their savings. Those things had never belonged to them, either.
North had played a huge role in getting their lives back on track. When she met him, Marigold and her mother had been living in a dirty, crowded apartment and were saving up for a new house. Not only had North cleaned and organized their apartment to make it livable, but he’d also helped them find the house. And then, when that space had required a ton of work, he’d driven his truck over every night for the three weeks before their move-in date to paint the drab walls, fix the leaky plumbing, rip up the musty carpeting, refinish the damaged hardwood, and carry in the heavy furniture. And he’d done it the whole time knowing that as soon as her mother was settled, Marigold would leave. It wasn’t what he’d wanted. North had helped because it was what her family had needed.
This was the debt that felt like it could never be repaid. This was why she was here.
It was why they understood each other, too. Marigold respected North’s sense of duty to his family. She never would’ve left home if she felt that her mother wasn’t stable enough to be alone. But Marigold also knew it was important to carve out your own life—something her mother had always encouraged, even when things were rough—and she was worried that North had given up trying.
The confident edge returned to his voice. “I have a tip.”
Marigold arched an eyebrow.
“The next time you attempt to spy on someone who knows you, wear a hat.” North pointed at her braid. “It’s a dead giveaway.”
“I wasn’t spying.”
“You were one hundred percent spying.”
She shrugged it off. “Maybe … ten percent spying, ninety percent wondering what the hell you’re doing here.”
“I’m working. What the hell are you doing here?”
“Your mom told me you’d be here, so I came.”
He was as stubborn as a boulder. “Why?”
“Because I wanted to talk to you.”
“And how’s that going for you so far?”
Marigold glared at him. Glared. And then she burst into laughter.
North looked away, trying to hide a grin. “All right. Okay.”
“You’re impossible.”
“I know.”
“And you look ridiculous in that uniform,” she said.
“I look incredible.”
“Incredibly ridiculous.”
“Incredibly handsome.”
She laughed again, and he smiled directly at her—for one brief, brilliant second—before turning around and striding away. “Come on,” he said. “I know a place.”
Marigold would follow North anywhere.
* * *
They trekked up the pathway, but instead of taking her back to the summit, North nodded toward an offshoot that led into the forest. A sign marked it as the Balsam Nature Trail. She hadn’t noticed it earlier. “You came on a good day,” he said. “It already rained. Usually, it showers in the afternoon.”
“How long until your break’s over?”
North didn’t even have to glance at his phone. “Twenty-two minutes.”
“Then let’s not waste any more time discussing the weather.”
He didn’t respond, so Marigold took his silence as assent. They entered the sanctuary of the woods. Pebbles crunched underfoot. “Except, okay,” Marigold relented, a few seconds later, “I do have one question. What’s up with all the dead trees? Is it acid rain or something?”
North ground to a halt. He stared at her.
“What?” She marched past him.
“You,” he said, “are a terrible listener.”
It dawned on her. “You told us on the funicular, didn’t you?”
“I told you on the funicular.”
“Well, I was a little distracted after that insane stare-down you gave me.”
“Balsam woolly adelgid.” North started moving behind her again. “It’s an aphid-like pest that’s been killing the Fraser firs. But … yes. Acid rain, too.”
Marigold waited for him to catch up before giving it another try. “Please tell me what you’re doing here. And don’t you dare say ‘working’ again.”
“I’m not.”
Her blood pressure rose. “You’re not working.”
“No. I’m not.”
She gritted her teeth, tired of the verbal games. But North seemed to regret his decision to be difficult, because he quickly acquiesced. He gestured to a patch on his shirtsleeve. Marigold’s eyes widened as she read it. “Volunteer? You’re a volunteer?”
“Rangers wear khaki. Volunteers and seasonal hires wear blue.”
“You’re not even a seasonal hire? You’re not being paid? For operating heavy machinery filled with live human beings?”
“It’s totally illegal.”
“This park is run by the state government!”
“Crazy, right?”
“What? I just … What? How did this happen?”
He shrugged. “My dad knew a guy.”
“North Drummond.” Marigold stopped in her tracks. “You know perfectly well you’ll have to give me more than that.”
North stopped, too. He stared at her with that same unyieldingness … and then his eyes gradually softened. “Yeah, I know.” He managed a faint smile. “Come on. It’s just ahead.”
The sounds of the other visitors disappeared as he led her past a trail marker with a blue diamond, white triangle, and white circle. Marigold looked up. They had walked underneath an immense overhang of rock.
North glanced at her, and she smiled back in relief. “Right?” he said.
Marigold nodded in agreement.
A bit farther, they arrived at a rock formation jutting out from the side of the mountain. It hung like a canopy over another slab of rock, creating an irresistible, human-sized place to rest. The sheltered stone was still damp, but there was a spot that looked mostly dry, so they sat down and crossed their legs. The butt of her shorts instantly grew wet. Marigold barely noticed. Her nerves were jangling again, but the anxiety was mixed with excitement.