Chapter Fifteen
“Oh Tamalpais? He looks so grave
With his brow in the cloud and his chin in the wave.”
~Charlie Stoddard
They arrived at the Pantoll campsite on Mt. Tamalpais mid-afternoon the following Friday. One spot, nestled against a single moss-covered redwood and sheltered by a scattering of small oak and a few conifers, provided sufficient space to set up two mid-sized tents of sufficient size to house two sleepers; one for the men, and one for the women. Toby had declined to join them. Jonas helped Brian set up their tent while the women insisted they could handle theirs without assistance.
“These are fascinating sheltering devices.” A crackle of energy coursed through his veins as Brian helped set up camp. He peppered everyone with questions about the area while scanning the woods for potential hazards.
“Have you never gone camping?” Jonas asked. “I thought camping was a big recreational activity in Scotland.”
“In the Northern Highlands, I and my men might shelter from the rain during a hunting trip under a lean-to. We might sleep under the stars when traveling aboot, or when on patrol…”
“On patrol? Why would you be on patrol? Were you in the military?” Jonas tilted his head, curiosity clear in his expression and tone.
Brian coughed and fussed over gathering firewood for the stone pit, at a loss for how to redirect the conversation. He’d absorbed a lot of information about the present during endless hours of research, but not enough to overcome awkward moments like this when questions left him floundering for a response.
Angel came to his rescue, as usual. “No, Brian worked for the Forestry Department.” He had no idea to what she referred, so he turned toward her anticipating further explanation.
“You see, the Highlands have low areas of treacherous bogs where unsuspecting hikers frequently run into trouble. Their Forestry Department regularly patrols those areas during peak hiking season in search of hopelessly stranded wanderers. At least that’s what I understand. Isn’t that right, Brian?”
What a marvel she was. “Oh, aye, bogs are verra dangerous areas for anyone unfamiliar with the terrain. They’re quite deceptive. One wrong step and a man can sink as quickly as a stone in a pond. They’re a bit like the quicksand you read aboot, ye ken.” His vernacular slipped, and his brogue intensified as it always did when presented with any situation that might reveal his past.
A stone fire circle, a rough wooden table with two benches, a round metal container with a grill top, and a closed metal box filled out their campsite. Half-dozen yards away stood a wooden building bearing the male/female signs on either side, indicating gender toilet facilities. At the lower end of the campground and closer to the parking lot, one other intrepid camper, not presently apparent, had set up camp.
Angel and Char finished anchoring their tent and turned toward the men. “Let’s put the food in the locker and head up the ridge trail. Since it’s an unusually warm day without a hint of fog, we’ll probably catch a spectacular sunset today.”
When they reached the trailhead, the trail post bore a poster warning of recent cougar sightings in the area. Brain examined the sign carefully. “That looks like a pretty fierce critter. Much bigger than Scotland’s catamount.”
“Yeah, they come into the area occasionally, but I’ve never actually seen one. We might see a coyote, foxes are rarer, but they’re here. The area also has snakes; though now the weather has cooled rattlers are less likely to bother us.”
Angel cast a flirty glance his way and continued. “We might see a raccoon—probably trying to steal our food, and maybe a possum. There are many species of birds, hawks, and owls. Encounters with a mountain lion, however, are very rare. Even if one is in the area, he’ll not approach a group our size.”
Angel unexpectedly grabbed his hand and started running up the path tugging him along. “Don’t worry. I’ll scare away the big, bad kitty.”
As they hiked along in jovial camaraderie, a great weight lifted from Brian. He hadn’t realized how much tension permanently resided in his shoulders and chest since his travel through time. It had been far worse during the past few weeks because of the constant strain between them. He understood why Angel’s brother sought the wilderness after his war experiences. Even though they remained close to the city, the peace and quiet of the woods had already served as a balm to his heart.
The hills reminded him of home, of rides out on the craggy cliffs steeped in sweet heather. A sharp, crisp wind carried the scent of cedar, and a furious grip of homesickness overtook him.
“Race you to the top, girlfriend,” Char shouted. Angel’s hand slipped from his as the two women, laughing like young girls, raced toward the summit and his reminiscence ended. Brian noticed that Jonas had stopped moving forward. When he glanced at him, a stab of jealousy hit. Jonas watched the women with such longing it hurt to see it. He glanced between Char’s and Angel’s unfettered romp, and Jonas’s struggle to conceal his desire.
“Not Angel?” Brian asked, his voice a bit too tight.
Jonas laughed, but the tone held no humor. “No, not Angel.”
“Excuse my rudeness, I’m still trying to understand the mores of this place, but I thought maybe you and Toby…?” How did one finish such a personal inquiry?
“Oh, no. Not Toby and me. We’ve been friends since long before Toby understood his sexual predilections, and he had a rough time coming out. No, you’ll get a good laugh over this one.” Jonas’s whole body radiated sadness rather than humor. Brian waited patiently, not wishing to unsettle either of them with another probing comment.
“What a tangled web we weave, eh. You see, Tobias is in love with me, I’m in love with Char, and I don’t think Char will ever love anybody other than Daniel. You might not guess that based on her constant prowl for the next male conquest. It’s all a ruse. She’s hurt and striking out. So, my new friend, it seems Angel and you are the only ones who have a chance in hell to make a go of things.” Jonas tilted his head toward him, and a real smile quirked up one corner of his mouth.
“It’s so obvious; don’t bother to deny your attraction. You never take your eyes off her when she’s around. And she never takes her eyes off you. When we’re out, and you aren’t along, you might as well be there because it’s Brian this and Brian that, like you’re the hottest thing since the Beatles. You two have it bad. Why don’t you just declare your feelings and move on? Or is that a problem with her family?”
Brian rarely discussed his personal feelings. Men didn’t discuss their emotions—especially not a Highland warrior. The people he’d met in this modern time seldom repressed their thoughts and feelings. Often, they eagerly shared the most personal details with near virtual strangers. It constantly unmoored him. So much had changed, and yet some things always remain the same. Like how a man desired and longed to claim a woman who has captured him, heart and soul. The emotional snare around his throat loosened marginally. “I live with them. I work for her father. They have been very good to me. I don’t want to misstep, do the wrong thing. It’s…complicated.”
“Yeah, isn’t it always?” Jonas clapped him once on the shoulder and moved up the hill at a slow jog.
As the last streaks of a blazing sunset faded, the group returned to their campsite. The women put Brian in charge of the fire in the fire ring while Jonas lit the kindling in the round grill. Angel and Char busily stripped bark off straight sticks and sharpened the edges. Soon they gathered around a roaring fire roasting meat called “hotdogs.” Such odd names they had for their food. A pan of beans cooking on the grill along with corn cobs wrapped in silver paper rounded out the fare.
Char passed around something called a “joint.” He eyed it suspiciously, as she explained a bit of cannabis history. He found it disturbing to learn they so easily indulged in an illegal product. On the other hand, the English had at one time or another declared every export or import through Scotland illegal in order to drive the Scottish to penury. After they roundly teased his reticence, he relented.
Angel gave everyone a paper cup filled with a full-bodied red wine. They prepared a veritable feast for a wilderness excursion, and once again, the setting jerked Brian’s thoughts to his homeland.
Finding enjoyment in this new life carried a heavy burden of guilt. Thoughts of home reminded him that everything he’d ever known and loved had been dead and gone for over three hundred years. Since he’d never completely relinquished the possibility of returning, he’d allowed little time to grieve those losses.
Now, under a star-studded night in front of a roaring fire and dutifully stoned like his companions, the reality lodged under his skin like the damp cooling air. He’d most likely live the remainder of his life in this place. Angel jerked him back to the present when she uncorked the second bottle of wine and refilled everyone’s glasses.
“Brian, to my knowledge,” Angel quirked a knowing brow at him, “has never experienced this dessert, and since Char and I are wilderness certified Girl Scouts, it is our honorary duty to educate our Highlander on this delight. After all, no camping experience would be complete without s’mores.” He liked the reference to him as our Highlander. He’d like it better if she called him her Highlander.
She laid out two big bars of chocolate, a box of graham crackers, and a large bag of giant marshmallows explaining the proper construction of s’mores. “The trick to roasting marshmallows is to crisp the outside without letting it blacken or catch fire. Brian, it would help if you could bank some hot coals to one side of the pit.”
Once everyone had constructed s’mores, Angel nudged closer to Brian and reached a finger to wipe a drop of melted chocolate and marshmallow from his lip. She dipped that finger into her mouth. “Delicious.”
His body responded instantly. Yes, you are delicious. He turned his eyes back to the fire to curb his rampant desires.
“You’re thinking of home, aren’t you?”
No, at that precise moment he thought only to suck into his mouth that finger she’d so casually swiped across his lip. He wanted to slide his tongue over her lips dewy with marshmallow and chocolate, to thrust his tongue into her mouth, down her neck, and across those mounds of pearly flesh that peaked above the shirt opened to her cleavage.
Her skin glowed under the firelight and her azure eyes deepened to dark pools of sympathy. Knocked off kilter by the sudden realization that this beautiful, sensitive woman represented everything a home meant to him, he averted his gaze back to the fire. She alone held the possibility of a wife, of shared intimacies and children, everything beyond his grasp yet hoped for with every beat of his heart. He wanted no other.
Yet, the improbability of claiming Angel as his own, and the grief for all he’d lost swamped him like a flood. It took several minutes to swallow the lump in his throat. “Aye, lass, I’m thinking of my home. Both the one I left behind and the one I must build in this new place.”
She placed a hand over his and squeezed tightly. “It’s going to be all right, Brian, I promise you. Things will get easier, better, and I’ll be beside you all the way.”
Beside him. Yes, that’s what he wanted. Her—wrapped in his arms, beside him, beneath him, his in all ways. Yet, how could he ever be worthy of her love? If she’d existed in his past, it would have been easy to claim her. Now, he had no idea how he might manage to provide her with a home or the life she deserved. Here in this place, where he struggled to comprehend every minute of every day, he hardly qualified as an appropriate suitor. Would she want him as her partner in all things? Could she love him, or did that squeeze on his hand represent one more gesture of sympathy to help an awkward, misplaced warrior in a strange new land?