train them as they should be.”
He reached in the truck for a bright orange pack, in which he stored Violet’s apples and cookies, and strapped it over his back. Pointing upward through the trees, he said, “This is a one-hiker trail. Do you want to go first?”
“I’ll follow since I don’t know where we’re going.”
He adjusted the straps on the backpack. “Call out, if you want to rest.”
Sunlight heated Violet’s back as it filtered through leafless trees. The forest floor was carpeted with colorful foliage, and in moist places, green ferns decorated the earth as if placed there by a landscape designer. Violet noticed many different kinds of birds flitting among the trees: noisy chickadees bobbing their black heads and saucily scolding the intruders; brilliant, squawking blue jays already gathered into colonies for the winter and not yet accustomed to close communion; cardinals swooping back and forth among the undergrowth, picking berries from wild holly bushes; and woodpeckers hopping up and down tree trunks looked for insects.
Violet admired the fleecy clouds that punctuated the vivid blue sky and breathed deeply of the fresh air. In the distance, the two dogs barked in excitement, and as the sounds shifted often, she assumed they were hot on the trail of some prey.
At first the climb was gradual, but when they came to a steep incline, Roger stopped and waited for her to catch up.
“We’ve only a short distance to go, but this last five minutes takes some wind. We need to stop and do some deep breathing.”
“What an invigorating walk! Why haven’t you asked me to hike with you before?” she asked in mock severity.
“When I come out here, I want to be alone, excepting present company,” he added with a grin. “I like people, as you know, but sometimes I need privacy. As to why I haven’t brought you, I hadn’t thought of it for one thing, but I decided you needed to be with me today. Even if you don’t want to talk about your problem, I’m the only one who knows and understands about it. So talk or not, be assured that I’m here for you, whatever your need.”
She reached out her hand, and he took it in a strong grasp. “Thanks.”
“Ready to go on?” he asked. At her nod, he released her hand. “Good. I’m hungry. The sooner we reach the peak the better.”
Violet was gasping for breath when they reached the top of the rocky and arid hill, bare of vegetation except for a few windblown pines.
“Our picnic table,” Roger said, pointing to a level stone outcropping under one of the trees.
Violet dropped down on the rock with relief and loosened the top of her hooded sweat jacket. “Whew! I didn’t know I had a heart until it started thumping. My blood is really flowing now.”
“That’s good for you,” Roger said as he unzipped the backpack and spread it open to reveal the contents.
“You’re in for a treat—Gibson’s turkey sandwiches,” he said, “but let’s have a word of prayer first.”
He reached for Violet’s hand, and held it in his large warm one. “God, we are thankful for the beauty of Your earth. I never feel as close to You as I do when I’m in the woodlands. But Violet has a problem, God, and we believe You can bring the solution. You know the past and the future, and we are hazy on both of those points when it comes to her mother. What should she do? What can I do to help her? We are Your servants, Father, help us to recognize Your leading. Bless this food to our bodys’ use and give us a good afternoon together. Amen.”
Violet tightened her grip on Roger’s hand, and she gazed long into his eyes before she loosened her grasp. The genuine concern he had expressed for her in his prayer touched her deeply and she was speechless in the face of his heartfelt concern.
The apples and sandwiches complemented one another, and the cool juice in plastic containers alleviated Violet’s thirst, which was intense after the climb. The cookies made a fitting conclusion to the meal.
“This is a good time for a nap,” Roger said, “if you don’t mind the hard rock.” He stretched out across the rock, put his hands under his head and closed his eyes. Violet found a nearby pine tree and sat down beneath it. She intended to think about the decision she must make soon, but her mind was blank. She had always heard, “Don’t put off until tomorrow what you should do today,” and perhaps that should apply in this situation. She couldn’t stand much more emotional turmoil. A stiff breeze riffled the tops of the pines and the limbs swayed rhythmically, but the wind didn’t reach their secluded, sunny spot. She closed her eyes, and may have slept a few minutes, but Roger’s stirring on the rock alerted her.
“If you’re ready, we’ll head back toward the truck on a different trail, and I’ll start calling the dogs. They’re probably resting, too—I haven’t heard them barking for several minutes.”
The ridge path was wider, and they walked side by side in companionable silence. Perhaps Roger sensed that Violet needed time to think through her decision and he respected that time. Roger was never a garrulous man, but he normally talked more than he had today. Occasionally, he whistled for the dogs and received an answering yelp. By the time they reached the truck, the beagles, still full of pep, were panting at their heels, tongues drooling.
Roger poured water into a pan for the dogs and gave them a small portion of dry food. After the dogs had eaten, he lifted them into the truck and fastened them in their box. “They’re just like kids who have played out in the fresh air all day. They’ll sleep on the way back to town.”
When they came to the farm buildings, Roger parked beside the house. The one-story structure, an old house, was painted a light green with modern windows installed. “Come in and see my hideaway,” he invited.
“This is a good retreat,” Violet said. “That row of evergreens conceals the house from the highway and blocks the noise from the road.”
They walked up on the front porch and Roger opened the door, then stepped back to let Violet precede him into one large room that swept the entire length of the house. On the western side was a kitchen area with modern cabinets and appliances, a small dining area, and a broad window providing a view of the hills. The rest of the room was paneled in light oak. A brightly colored oval rug lay in front of a large fireplace with comfortable chairs grouped around it. A plaid-upholstered couch stood beneath the window, a bookcase filled with books and magazines nearby.
“This is wonderful,” Violet said. “No wonder you like to come here.”
“The house was in bad condition when I bought the place, but I tore down the shed on the rear of the building, installed new windows and siding, and removed some partitions to make this one big room.” He motioned toward the back of the house. “There’s a small bedroom and bath in that area.”
“It’s definitely a man’s house,” she said. “Do your children like it?”
“Right now, they’re more interested in town life. I’ve brought them out a few times, but they aren’t very enthusiastic. I thought Jason might enjoy working on the farm, but he hasn’t shown much interest.” He indicated the fireplace where several logs awaited a match. “We can have a fire if you want to stay awhile. It’s cool in here.”
“I have no plans for the afternoon, just so I’m back to Maitland in time for church.”
“While
