Chapter 2: The Perfect Encounter
Emma woke up to sunlight streaming through odd windows, disoriented for a moment as to where she was. Stuff from last night felt distant, dreamlike. Footsteps on the porch? Preposterous at dawn. Paranoid.
She made instant coffee—no glass to break this time—and examined the map of the hiking trail that had been left by the cabin owner. Movement would be good. It always was when her mind started to spin.
The Whispering Pines Trail was described as "beginner friendly," and it seemed appropriate. Emma had been hiking on the weekends with Marcus every week, once upon a time, when they used to share weekends, when they used to share anything. But that was another life.
She packed a water bottle and a granola bar into her backpack, took her phone just in case someone might need her, even if there wasn't signal, and left. The forest was beautiful at sunrise—the big pines, mottled shadow, untouched wilderness made city issues somehow little and distant.
The path started easily enough, well marked with the occasional bench. But Emma was healthier than she had realized. Twenty minutes in, she was panting and had to pull over and take water.
"Pathetic," she muttered to herself. "Absolutely pathetic."
An hour in, she'd cut what looked like a shortcut. The trail was narrow, unblazed, but it paralleled the main trail. It would be fine. She'd never been awful with directions.
Only the unblazed trail branched and branched again, and the sun was lower than it should be, and now Emma had no clue which way to go to reach the main trail. Or her car. Or anything familiar.
Panic inched up her throat, like bile. She was as alone as you could be, with no cell signal and no one waiting for her anywhere. If something went wrong—if she stumbled, got injured, couldn't find her way out—
"Hello? Are you okay?"
Emma wheeled around the sound of the voice, racing heart. A lean, tall figure appeared around a bend in the path, with furrowed brown eyes. He was dressed in top-end hiking gear that somehow didn't look pretentious, but just functional.
"I'm—" Emma's voice cracked. She swallowed. "I'm lost."
"Hey, it's okay," he replied, approaching her slowly as if she were a nervous animal. "These trails can be confusing. My name is Adrian. What's yours?"
"Emma." The happiness of hearing another human voice was too much. "I cut across what I assumed was a shortcut, and now I'm completely lost."
"Emma." He smiled, and the whole face was different. "Don't worry, Emma. I know these trails inside and out. I've been up here for years. Where were you beginning from?"
"The Whispering Pines trailhead. There was a parking lot—"
"I know where that is. You're not lost so much as you're making yourself out to be. Come on, I'll take you back." He indicated down the trail. "I'm going that way anyway."
As they strolled, Adrian had a steady stream of easygoing conversation that somehow, to Emma's surprise, didn't make her feel dumber for getting lost.
"I'm about twenty minutes away," he said to her. "Moved here last year after a tough time. The mountains have a way of bringing things into focus, don't they?"
"That's what I hope," Emma admitted.
"Stress at work? Family issues?" He asked it casually, not prying, just talking.
"Divorce." The term had slipped out of her before she could catch it. "And a few other complications."
Adrian nodded sympathetically. "I'm sorry. That's never easy."
"What about you? You said there was a difficult time."
"Career burnout, mostly. I'm a computer consultant, spend most of my time repairing companies' systems after disaster strikes. Ironic, really—I'm proficient at fixing other people's problems but couldn't fix my own." He gave her a self-mocking smile. "What do you do?"
"I'm an architect. Or was. It's complicated."
Adrian's eyes had gleamed with actual enthusiasm. "Seriously? That's intriguing. I've always believed that space can heal people, you know? The way light and flow and materials can impact the way we feel. You know that better than anyone."
Emma sensed something in her chest let go for the first time in weeks. When had someone ever talked to her about her job with excitement, instead of suspicion or pity?
"That's what I was trying to focus on," she said. "Healing spaces. I worked in medical facilities, therapy clinics, rooms where people go when they're in a position of vulnerability."
"Past tense?" Adrian whispered.
Emma's throat closed. "I lost my firm recently. And everything else."
He didn't prompt her for information, just strolled with her in comfortable silence until the main path broke ahead.
"There we go," Adrian said. "See? Not so lost after all."
Emma could pick out the parking lot through the trees, her dented Honda parked exactly where she'd left it. "Thank you," she said. "I was getting panicky."
"Delighted to comply. I can see how intimidating these mountains would be if you are not familiar with them."
They reached her car, and Emma dug through her pockets for her keys, not letting the moment pass. Adrian was the first person in months to treat her as a human and not something to be fixed or circumvented.
"Down a little, perhaps?" Adrian replied uncertainly. "But would you like to get coffee at some point? There is a small café downtown—Bear Creek Café. They have the most fantastic lavender lattes."
Emma's heart skipped a beat. Lavender lattes were her indulgent guilty pleasure beverage, one she'd discovered in graduate school and never grown out of. Even Marcus had teased her about her "refined coffee habit."
"How did you—," she started, and chewed off the rest of the sentence. Plenty of people had lavender lattes. It wasn't a strange thing.
"I know it sounds strange," Adrian said quickly, misunderstanding her expression. "But they really are incredible. The owner gets the lavender locally makes her own syrup."
"I do have a fondness for lavender lattes," Emma said.
"Then you have to try theirs." He pulled out his business card, simple and dignified. "I'll be there tomorrow at two PM if you want to ride in with me. No pressure, though. I know you have a lot going on right now."
Emma took the card, their hands touching briefly. "Adrian Mitchell, Systems Consultant," it read, with a telephone number and email address.
"Consider it," Adrian answered. "And Emma? Don't be too critical of yourself for losing your way today. These trails are challenging even for experienced hikers."
As he walked away, disappearing into the woods like a figure in a fairytale, Emma stood on the edge of her car holding his business card. Part of her wished to throw it into the trash and return to the isolation of the cabin's distance. But another part—a part she had thought long gone along with her marriage—wished to learn more about this soft-spoken stranger who talked of healing spaces and made her feel seen instead of destroyed.
In the cabin, Emma stared at Adrian's card while her phone was recharging. Seventeen missed calls from Dr. Torres had escalated to twenty-three. She finally called her back.
"Emma! God be praised." Dr. Torres was brusque with relief. "I've been frantic. You just dropped everything without telling me—"
"I needed space, Rachel. I said I was going away for a while."
"Leaving is okay. Abruptly cutting off all communication is not. Where are you?"
"Mountain cabin. Middle of nowhere. It's just what I needed."
A pause. "How are you sleeping? Eating? Are you keeping completely to yourself?"
"I'm fine. Actually, I met someone today. A hiker who assisted me when I became lost on a trail."
"Emma." Dr. Torres's voice became that cautious tone she adopted when she was concerned. "I want you to be extremely cautious at the moment. You're in a very vulnerable position, and trauma can leave us open to—"
"To what? Friendship? A normal, human interaction with someone?"
"To manipulation. To those who exploit weakness. You have just been the victim of a devastating betrayal, Emma. Your take on why people act may not be—"
"He was just being friendly," Emma interrupted. "He walked me out to the parking lot. That is all."
"Did he ask your personal questions? Try to get information about your situation?"
Emma thought over the encounter. Adrian had questioned her about her work, but he hadn't pressed when she became tearful-eyed. He'd shared about his troubles. It had felt. fair.
"He was a gentleman," she stated finally.
"I'm not saying he didn't. But Emma, listen to me—trauma bonding is a thing. When you're isolated and hurting, even plain niceness can feel crushing. It can have you bond too quickly with people who might not necessarily have your best interest at heart."
"Okay, so what am I going to do? Stay in this cabin for the rest of my life? Trust no one ever again?"
"Of course not. Social bonding is critical to recovery. Just. trust your instincts, but remember that trauma has a way of making us too closed off or too trusting. Both are damaging."
The moment the call was over, Emma sat on the porch of the cabin as the night descended on the mountains. Dr. Torres had good intentions, but she did not understand that it had felt so great to have someone look at her with curiosity instead of pity. To talk about architecture with someone who cared about it instead of suspecting it.
She pulled out Adrian's card again. Bear Creek Café, two PM tomorrow. No strings.
What was the worst that could go wrong? One cup of coffee with a pleasant stranger who'd been good to her when she'd gotten lost. It wasn't like she was going to marry the guy.
As she got ready for bed, Emma did find herself looking forward to something for the first time in months. But as she was drifting off to sleep, an annoying thought chewed at the edge of her mind.
When Adrian had initially called her out on the trail, what had he said, precisely? "Hello? Are you okay?" Just a usual greeting to some stranger who seemed lost.
And yet why did she get the eerie feeling that he was going to say her name?