“I can be if you give me thirty minutes or so. I have to finish a small project first.”
When he arrived, he suggested they use his truck instead of her car. “In case, we go ‘off-road’ or find a canyon we want to explore,” he explained. “I hope you’re wearing your hiking boots.”
“I am, but they’re pretty new and not broken in so I think I’ll take my running shoes along in case blisters begin to form.”
He nodded, indicating that was a good idea. The sun was shining but the air was still chilly. He gave a running documentary as he drove, describing every bend in the road.
He wheeled his truck off the main road and onto one that seemed to be seldom used.
“Are we trespassing?”
“No,” he assured her. “This is a friend’s land. I come out here quite often when I need to think or regain some peace in my life. I look at the indescribable views, breathe the clean air and talk to my Maker.”
After a winding drive, he found a place to park the truck. They got out of the vehicle and chose a narrow trail to begin their hike. As they climbed higher, the air became thinner and breathing was more difficult. “I think those blisters I was worried about have made an appearance,” Camille said as they chose a flat rock to sit and rest for a while. She started to untie her boots when Collier knelt down in front of her.
“Let me help. As thin as the air is up here if you bend over too far you might topple over.” He grinned at her and added, “I wouldn’t want to have to climb down the mountain to rescue you.”
From their vantage point, the view was indescribable. The mountains in the distance, the rushing stream…it all made it seem as if they were in another world.
“I never tire of these views,” Collier said. “They make me fully aware of my Creator.”
His statement surprised her a bit. “Do you consider yourself a religious man?”
“I guess that depends on your definition of religious. Do I believe there’s a God who created me, you and all of this?” he swept his arm in an arc to indicate everything in their sight. “Yes, the answer is yes. Do I believe in organized religion? I see the necessity of it but don’t necessarily want to be a part of it. Do I believe the words of the Bible? Yes.” He looked at her questioningly. “How about you?”
“I don’t know the answer to that question. I think I am, for the most part, a good person. I try to be unselfish, I donate to causes I like, I help old ladies across the street,” she said as she smiled at him. “But, I’ve never had a personal relationship with God or Jesus, if that’s what you mean. I’ve been associated with people who claim to have that but their lives don’t reflect it in any visible way.”
“Yeah, well that’s the rebellious sinful part in all of us, I guess. You know, telling God, ‘I’ll believe in you but don’t make me follow any of your rules’ kind of thinking.”
They were quiet for a while, each lost in their
own thoughts.
“I know you love it here, Collier. Have you ever thought of living somewhere else?”
“Never!” was his instant answer. “I can’t even imagine doing that.”
Never at a loss for questions, Camille asked if he ever thought about having a family, which was one of the concerns she told her readers to delve into if they were going to pursue a relationship with a much younger man.
He shrugged. “I never thought I wanted children of my own. I’ve got a passel of nieces and nephews that seem like my kids without me having to support them,” he added. “When I think about the shape our world is in, Camille, I don’t want to bring children into it. I love kids but I’ll be happy without fathering any. How about you?”
“In the beginning, I was too career-oriented. Will nor I wanted to have children, which is a good thing, as it turned out. I guess I had such a horrible relationship with my mother and I never had a father figure, so I didn’t…and still don’t… know what a family is supposed to look like. I don’t believe I would have been good ‘mother material’ and obviously, at my age, it is now a moot point.”
Her phone rang and she muttered, “Speaking of Mommy Dearest, it’s a call from Paris. She must have changed her number; I don’t recognize this one, but who else do I know in Paris, right?”
She answered with a curt, “Hello? Yes, this is Camille Desmond. Who am I speaking with?”
Her face lost all color and Collier heard her say, “When? Okay, yes, I’ll make arrangements and let you know the details.”
He waited for her to say something but she didn’t.
“Camille? What’s going on?”
“It’s Barbara. She died last night.”
He didn’t know exactly what to do or say. He would’ve been more comfortable if she was crying or something, but she wasn’t. He held out his arms and she went to him. He enveloped her in his embrace but didn’t say anything.
“Am I supposed to be crying and carrying on now like a normal daughter?” she asked.