it because she was used to the desert? Had she been born afraid of forests? Or had she watched one too many horror films?
Finally, she sighed and followed him.
“This is a white birch.” He got the impression she couldn’t say a word and not from awe. He’d grown up hiking these woods with Granddad. Knew every bit of the surrounding area. He loved Lake Endwell—the evergreens, ferns, blue jays and sparrows, the scent of pollen, pinecones, the mucky ground after a hard rain. He loved it all. It would be tough to leave, but he couldn’t stay.
Bryan peeled a six-inch section of birch bark and handed it to her. “It’s textured on the outside but smooth inside. See? Smell it. It’s a good smell.”
The tight lines around her mouth eased. “It doesn’t have much of a scent.”
“Inhale. You’ll catch it. Mint, with a bit of history.”
“History?”
“Native Americans and early settlers relied on birch for a lot of things. It’s waterproof, so they used it for roofs, canoes, even shoes. The inner bark is edible.”
“I didn’t know that. It peels off in ribbons.” She inspected the strip, picking at the pale pink layers. He took it as a good sign.
“You can write on it, too. Take it home. Try it.”
“Okay.”
Bryan tugged a slim branch to her. She hopped with her hand over her heart. He moved it back several inches. The suppleness of new tree growth always impressed him because of the resilience. Age strengthened the wood. “Sycamore trees have white bark also, but it’s not papery like the birch’s. If you aren’t sure if a tree is a sycamore or a birch, check the leaves. Birch trees have small, oval-shaped leaves. Sycamore leaves are big and shaped like a hand.” He held his palm up, fingers together, to show her.
Jade rose on her tiptoes and extended her neck. “Why does it matter if I know which is which?”
“Survival.” Bryan let the branch spring back into place. “The white birch has pure, drinkable sap. It’s sweet. If you had a Swiss Army knife on you, you’d have a potential source of hydration. Chop a small triangle out of the trunk, and you can catch the moisture and eat the inner flesh.”
“Couldn’t I drink from that?” Rotating to the side, she pointed to the pond.
“You could, but you’d have to boil the water first. It’s full of algae and other contaminants. Besides, you might be somewhere where there isn’t a water source.” He spotted an overgrowth of weeds. “Before we continue, I have to warn you about certain plants.”
“Great,” she muttered, but joined him.
“Over there.” He nodded to a green vine. “That’s poison ivy. You can tell because it has three pointy green leaves.”
Jade hung back, flourishing her hand in the direction of the weeds. “Is that poison ivy, too?”
“No. That’s honeysuckle. It has individual leaves.” He didn’t dare lop off the poison ivy, but she didn’t seem to be willing to come near it. “I’m not sure if you can see this, but all three leaves are coming from the same stem.”
“Oh. Okay, I get it.”
Bryan returned to her side. “Poison oak has three leaves also. There’s a saying in the woods, ‘Leaves of three, let it be.’ Avoid them or you might get a rash.”
“Avoiding them won’t be a problem.” She lifted one shoulder and smiled. Once more, he was all too aware of her appeal. She was even prettier when she wasn’t terrified. She tapped her finger against her chin. “You know, I don’t feel as nervous right now.”
“Good. Now that you live in Lake Endwell, you might find hiking becomes your new hobby. Nature is generous. Give it a chance.”
“Hiking as my hobby? Doubtful.” Jade tucked the birch bark into her jacket pocket. “What do you mean, nature is generous?”
He plucked a young blade of grass from the ground and held it out. “It’s all connected. The ground gives nutrients to the plants, and the plants provide food and shelter for the birds, insects and animals. Everything you see in this park is generous.”
“I never thought of it that way.” Shielding her eyes, she raised her face to the sky. “I’m not sure I’m ready for all this.”
“Take it one day at a time.”
“But that’s the thing. I’m kind of okay now, but I know we’re not going to stand on the lawn for two hours next week.”
“No,” he murmured. He hadn’t considered she’d want to continue taking his class, not when she could barely tolerate the birches. “We won’t.”
“I think I’ve had enough forest-related instruction for the day.” A breeze lifted the ends of her hair. “Can we check out the pond?”
“Sure.”
Side by side they squished through the grass.
“Do you come here a lot with your wife?”
Bryan almost stumbled. He had that one coming. He shouldn’t have said anything. Shouldn’t have mentioned a wife.
He might be divorced, but it didn’t mean he was single.
“No,” he said. “I can’t say I do.”
Why hadn’t he told Jade the truth?
Bryan tossed his keys on the foyer’s rickety table in the tan bungalow he shared with Sam. Days like this he missed coming home to his older brother, Tommy. For years the two of them lived here, watching baseball, ordering pizzas and sharing the silent bond of failed marriages. But Tommy was happily married again, living two miles away in a new house near the lake with his daughter and pregnant wife.
Continuing into the kitchen, Bryan opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of iced tea. The fact Tommy had created a future for himself made Bryan want to believe it was possible for him, too.
However, Tommy had remarried his ex-wife. Bryan would never remarry Abby. For one thing, she’d gotten hitched two weeks after their divorce was final. For another, she didn’t love him. Probably never had. Their marriage had lacked substance. Didn’t make their split any less painful, though.
He padded across the worn carpeting and dropped onto the beat-up leather couch.
“Anybody home?” Dad called from the front door. After wiping his work boots on the mat, he tugged them off and took a seat in the recliner next to the couch. “How did your class go?”
“Okay.” Bryan drummed his fingers on the arm of the couch.
“Lots of folks show up?”
“Only one.”
Dad raised his eyebrows. “One, huh?”
“Yeah, and she probably won’t be back. I’m typing up fliers later. I’ll get more people next week.”
“This class is important to you, isn’t it?”
A twinge of guilt poked at his conscience. Bryan had always been close to his father. Dad had done a good job raising the five of them after Mom died. But Dale Sheffield could not keep a secret, and the last thing Bryan wanted was town gossips whispering about his plans. They’d chattered for months about Abby’s indiscretions and the subsequent divorce. He’d just as soon drive pine needles under his fingernails than have the citizens of Lake Endwell discussing his life ever again.
Sam appeared from the hallway leading to the bedrooms. He yawned, shoving his hand through rumpled hair. “Hey, Dad. Bryan.”
“You