46. Hike, Part II

Trev parked Tessie in the far corner of the lot furthest from the Visitors' Center, and, with Bonnie's help, fit her custom Sunbrella car cover over her for good measure. That done, they shouldered their day packs and moved off by unspoken accord toward the viewing platforms overlooking the Falls. The wide, well-trodden path down to the Potomac was already thronged with locals and tourists, most of whom, to judge by the sandals on their feet and the disposable coffee cups in their hands, would not be venturing far from the public walkways and picnicking grounds. Over their loud talk and noisy high spirits, the continuous roar of water breaking over rock could be heard, growing ever more thunderous until, around a last bend, the magnificent cascades came into sight.

It was not yet so crowded along the platform rail that they couldn't find a spot to look out over the turbulent river. Only fifteen miles downstream, the Potomac flowed placidly through the District, but in this section of the park, it raged against the rocky islands barring its passage, frothing white as it poured over and between boulders and crashed into stone, throwing plumes of spray high into the air. Where it did not race furiously around the jagged rocks, the water shot over them, tumbling into a spectacular array of small waterfalls and boiling up in violent waves that only gradually calmed as the river entered the narrow Mather Gorge and resumed its headlong rush to Chesapeake Bay.

Beside her, Trev was leaning into the rail and peering down. "Look! There!" He pointed to a solo kayaker at the base of the Falls paddling for all he was worth into the swells of the oncoming current.

Bonnie bent toward his ear and nearly shouted, "We've got to try that someday."

He swung round eagerly, only to meet with dancing eyes and a barely stifled grin. He smiled back, rueful. "I guess I've said that once or twice before."

She laughed out loud. "Try every time we come here!"

'Well, we should! It looks like a blast."

Across the river, on their much higher overlook, Marylanders flailed their arms and jeered cordially at the Virginians who, in their estimation, had taken the path of least resistance instead of approaching the Falls in a physically-demanding fashion. Bonnie waved cheerfully back in acknowledgment, and dropping her arm, turned to Trev. "Ready to head out?"

He motioned her to precede him. "Lead on, Macduff."

The walkway to the trailhead was as broad and well-traveled as many a country lane. Edged on both sides by split-rail fences, it easily accommodated pedestrians walking two or three abreast, but even so, the foot-traffic was heavy enough that Bonnie and Trev were forced to tramp along at a more leisurely pace than they would have liked. Bonnie thought to while away the tedium by recounting, hopefully for laughs, a greatly streamlined version of what she introduced as "the saga of Sébastien and Isabelle." Trev followed the tale with every appearance of interest and amusement, but took issue, at the end, with Bear's figuring in the role of credible romantic rival. "No way could she sell that cold fish as her lover. Not even an Academy-award-winning actress could pull that off. Sebastien, on the other hand, had it easy. Isabelle would've had no trouble believing he'd fallen hard for you."

Bonnie did not care to admit to finding Isabelle and Bear as a couple all too persuasive. "You have to appreciate Sébastien's mind set," she said, instead. "He firmly believes Isabelle could have any man she wants just by crooking her finger. He was positively green with jealousy."

"I'll have to take your word for it." The couple ambling along in front of them suddenly stopped, mid-path, to pose for a selfie, obliging Bonnie and Trev to swerve around them. "So…" Trev said, when they were well clear of the self-absorbed duo, "you could say it worked out for Isabelle, pretending she was interested in someone else."

"I suppose. It definitely got under Sébastien's skin. He finally faced the truth that he couldn't bear losing her."

A short distance away, they spotted the sign post for the River Trail, and gladly left the open path for the packed-dirt track into the woods. It was pleasantly cool under the trees, and, though there were rocky areas and exposed tree roots to contend with, the going was easy enough that they could finally set and maintain a good, steady pace. The trail being too popular and, in places, too narrow to permit much walking side by side, they fell into hiking one behind the other, Bonnie in the lead. From time to time, the trail wended out of the forest and along the top of the cliffs forming the gorge, providing breathtaking views of the sheer rock faces and the foam-laced river coursing between.

Personal landmarks jumped out at them all along the way. Their conversation was peppered with questions beginning, "Wasn't it right here we…?" and "Do you remember when you…?" There was the dead tree among whose roots a copperhead had once lain coiled, and there, the creek bed where, one Spring, Bonnie had slipped off a stepping stone and sunk ankle deep in the mud. There was the sharp descent that had proved so terrifying the day a sudden rain had made the rocks dangerously slick, and there, the jutting ledge where they always paused to take in the scenery and snap a picture or two. "Isn't that the boulder you stopped some kid from defacing over there?" Bonnie said, gesturing toward an imposing slab of granite. "You scared the bejeezus out of him, as I recall."

"Served him right. He had no business scraping his initials into that rock. This is a National Park, for God's sake, not some bathroom stall."

A number of small tracks branched off at intervals into the undergrowth, and, just short of the River Trail's end, they turned onto one they knew would lead to a tiny cove they might have all to themselves. Their luck was in; the crescent of crushed shell and sand was deserted, a welcome sight after the congestion higher up. They dropped down onto adjacent flat rocks by the water's edge, Bonnie, at least, agreeably tired by the unaccustomed exercise and glad of a break. She dug her water bottle and three granola bars out of her pack: two of the chili-chocolate variety Trev favored and a date-nut bar for herself. Trev took his from her with thanks, and motioned across the river where a group of climbers in brightly-colored singlets, shorts and helmets struggled to scale the cliff with the aid of ropes while their friends, some belaying them at the top, others still waiting their turn below, called out encouragement and advice.

The drama held Bonnie's interest for a while, but did not engross her as it did Trev. She found herself watching him, instead, as he followed the climbers' slow rise from one precarious handhold to another. It was a dear, handsome profile she saw, familiar in every line. Sitting quietly beside him, out in the sun-warmed air with the river rippling gently past, she was reminded how very easy it was to be with him, how right. She felt again their strong connection, a bond forged by sharing countless happy days like this one over the years. They'd begun as a team on the tennis court, and that partnership had grown over time to encompass almost every aspect of their lives. There was no one in the world she knew better, or trusted more. He was solid as the rock beneath them, steady as the river's flow, upstanding as the tallest tree. And that would never change, she was sure. He had promised her a life of simple joys, and she could readily picture that including their continuing to return to this wilderness down the years, with the added company, perhaps, of a large dog straining at the leash and, over time, a baby in a hiking carrier and later still, a couple of intrepid children toting miniature backpacks of their own. Those excursions, like today's, would likely end in their stopping for a proper meal at the Old Dominion Tavern before setting off home for a late afternoon or evening spent indulging in exertions of a more intimate nature. Such a future had a lot to recommend it, Bonnie reflected, a bit surprised by the strength of the vision's appeal.

"A penny for them." Trev was regarding her quizzically, a smile playing on his lips. "From the look on your face, I'd say they were some pretty deep thoughts."

"Oh!" She laughed, flustered at being caught in a reverie. "You know, the usual 'sitting by the river' stuff: time, change, the meaning of life, lunch…"

"Lunch?" he echoed, with a grin.

"Naturally." She took a last sip of her water and stored the bottle away with their empty food wrappers. "All this exercise has given me an appetite."

"I hear you. I could go for some Maryland crab cakes, myself."

"At the Old Dominion?"

"Where else?"

They collected their packs, and, leaving the river behind, moved up the beach and back into the woods. At the trail junction, they turned towards what remained of Matildaville, a small town that had ably serviced the Patowmack Canal in George Washington's day. All that now stood witness to the once-thriving community were scattered field stone foundations, crumbling walls and the occasional free-standing chimney. The ruins lent their return leg a rather melancholy feel, and they responded by slowing to a stroll, chatting in a fairly random way as they walked along. They had nearly completed their loop when it occurred to Bonnie to ask about Trev's engagement the previous night. "You were kind of vague about the details when we spoke on the phone."

He stared down at his boots a moment before shooting her a glance. "Promise you won't laugh?"

"Oh, now I'm more intrigued than ever! What did you do?"

He grimaced self-consciously. "I… ah… went to the opera."

"The opera? You?" Bonnie had to stop to take this bombshell in. "You hate opera. Did you lose a bet or something?"

"Close. See, it was like this: at the party the other night, we got to talking about music — likes and dislikes, that sort of thing — and Vanna brought up opera. I stated, maybe a bit too bluntly, that I personally can't stand the stuff, and she comes back with 'What operas have you heard? What composers?'"

"She had you there. Did you come up with any names at all? Mozart? Verdi?"

He shook his head. "I didn't even try. I knew I was busted. Anyway, she says, 'How do you know you don't like it if you haven't even given it a chance?' Turns out, she and Steve Yates had plans to go to the Washington National Opera Saturday night. You remember Steve? The clarinet player at Dad's party? It just so happens he'd had to cancel on short notice. So, she dares me to take his ticket and give opera a fair shake. I didn't see how I could refuse. Especially since she wasn't going to use the tickets if she couldn't find someone to go with her."

"And you owed her a favor, anyway," Bonnie said, nodding in understanding. "So, don't leave me in suspense! How'd it go? Was it awful? What did you see?"

"Wagner's Tristan and Isolde…"

"Oh, that's an all-time great love story! Did you manage to follow the plot?"

"I read a synopsis before I went, to be on the safe side, and there was an English translation, too, scrolling on a screen above the curtain. I found I didn't really need to understand all the words, though. The music's a kind of language of its own, all pure emotion. Even though I didn't know exactly what they were saying, I could tell from the singers' voices and gestures what they were feeling, and it was pretty powerful stuff. I don't really know how to describe the experience, but one thing's for sure, it wasn't boring. Vanna called it 'transcendent,' but I guess I'd go with moving. I was moved."

"Wow." Bonnie was surprised at Trev's reaction, and not a little impressed. "So, do you see yourself becoming a regular at the Kennedy Center now?"

"I wouldn't go that far, but I'm definitely interested in seeing more. For my next concert, though, I'm going to stick to the tried and true. The Death Knellies will be in town in a couple of weeks, and I managed to score two tickets."

Bonnie's hands flew to her ears just at the mention of the cacophonous thrash-metal group. "You can't be serious! I thought they disbanded ten years ago."

"They're doing a reunion tour."

"Well, you're going to have to find someone else to go with you! That so-called music gives me a splitting headache." He did not answer immediately, and when she looked over at him, he could not quite hold her gaze. "Oh!"

"Of course I'd've asked you first if I thought there was any chance you'd go…"

She waved off his explanation. "No, I get it. I believe my exact words after my one and only Death Knellies' show were 'I'd rather pierce my ear drums with a dull barbecue skewer than ever listen to them live again.' Who's the other ticket for, then?"

Again, he hesitated just a beat. "Vanna. She's such a vocal proponent of being open-minded and not judging things in advance, I dared her to back up her words with actions. She doesn't think much of metal…"

"Because she's not a pre-teen boy or a man stuck in adolescence."

He slanted her a repressive frown. "… but she's agreed to give it a second try. I could get you a ticket, too, if you want. There were plenty last time I checked."

"No, no!" she said, quickly. "Thanks, but no. Vanna may be willing to risk severe hearing loss, but I'm not. You kids have fun without me."

It was well past two when they returned to Tessie who, happily, had suffered no ill-effects from being abandoned several hours in the parking lot. They drove the short distance to the Old Dominion Tavern, where the hostess, remembering them from previous visits, greeted them cordially and showed them to window seats looking out onto the well-tended rear garden. Trev proclaimed his heaping serving of crab cakes the best he'd ever eaten, and Bonnie had no complaints about her fish and chips, which, while plain pub fare, was executed to perfection. As she sipped her coffee and watched Trev demolish a generous wedge of apple pie, Bonnie felt a sense of well-being wash over her. It had been a good day, and she had the option of making it last longer. She mulled over what she would answer when, inevitably, Trev suggested she accompany him back to his place. He pushed his plate away eventually, sighed in satisfaction, and smiled across the table at her with the honest warmth she knew so well. Yes, she thought. She would say yes.

She snuggled down in Tessie's passenger seat for the long drive into the capital, confident in the expectation that Trev would bring up the subject before they reached the highway, but he didn't, and as mile after mile sped by, she realized he wouldn't. He grumbled instead about the backlog of work awaiting his attention at home — precedents to be researched, documents to review, arguments to draft and refine; hours and hours of paging through dusty law tomes and examining fine print. Bonnie commiserated, and guarded against betraying any sign of the let-down she felt. When they pulled up before her front door, Trev asked her to apologize to her mother and grandfather for not coming in to say hello, and told her to look for him in the crowd peering into the Conservation Station later on in the week. They exchanged a quick kiss in parting, and then Tessie was gliding down the drive and out of sight.

She stepped into the foyer just as her mother was coming down from the upper floor. "You're back sooner than I expected," Christine said. "Everything all right?"

Bonnie forced a reassuring smile. "Couldn't be better," she said, and hoped she sounded more confident than she felt.