Between Two Promises Read online

  Quiet sheathed the supper table. Only the sound of Daniel’s dinnerware striking his plate filled the silence.

  “None of that matters,” he said, eyes fixed on his supper. “Neither one of us are going. And that’s that. You read the letter like you wanted. Let’s leave it alone and say nothing more about the matter.”

  Chapter Two

  SWEAT dribbled down the sides of their faces. Rain on the lower elevations the night before had left the air humid on the west side of the Swan Range. Their sturdy backpacks gave their heavy boots extra impact on the soggy trail. About four thousand feet up, they came to a clearing overlooking the Flathead Valley.

  “Look.” Aiden pointed to the northwest. “You can see part of the street where the cabin is. Looks like a shoelace from here.”

  Daniel followed Aiden’s gaze. The hemlocks and cottonwoods swept down like a green patchwork quilt under the tent of blue sky toward the lower hills, where faint streets and houses were visible through small clearings. Farther beyond, Kalispell and most of its sprawl crept along the Flathead River.

  Aiden slipped off his backpack and hiked down to a rock overlook. “I’m going to get a better view for some pictures,” he said.

  “Be careful,” Daniel called to him.

  A rascally schoolboy whenever in the woods, that’s how Aiden acted, Daniel thought, watching him scudder down the slope about twenty yards. Sometimes he was so full of energy, Daniel could barely keep up. He’d leap among the trees like one of those mythical woodland creatures he’d once read about in school. Endowed with more confidence than coordination, Aiden worried Daniel to distraction.

  He smiled despite himself. Out in the woods, away from life’s urgencies, they had little interference from others. Daniel had wanted to escape the controversy of Mark’s letter by getting them both out of the cabin. Two days of backpacking would make the perfect getaway. The day after he allowed Aiden to read the letter, he’d suggested they head out to the Swan Range. Aiden had raced to get ready. Daniel knew how much Aiden loved to backpack.

  Backpacking brought out the best in them. They taught each other many skills in the backcountry. Aiden had more experience, but Daniel brought with him practical knowledge he’d learned growing up on a labor-intensive farm. The most spectacular hiking in the country lay right outside their back door, and they took advantage of it often.

  They’d left their Suburban at the trailhead, about ten miles from the cabin. The trail, one they’d never hiked before, looped down through the Jewel Basin into Black Lake, where they would camp for two nights and afterward head back over the Range to their Chevy. Secluded and nestled among craggy, snow-covered peaks surrounding trout-laden lakes, the area was perfect for a weekend of exploring and fishing.

  Daniel wiped the sweat from under his straw hat. “Let’s get moving,” he said. “We got a climb ahead of us yet, about halfway still to go.”

  “Hold on, I want to take our picture together.” Aiden scurried up the slope and posed next to Daniel with his digital camera held out in front of their faces. Daniel thought he was silly, but when Aiden stood on his tiptoes and pressed his cheek against his, a chuckle fluttered from between his lips.

  “Smile,” Aiden said, and snapped their picture.

  With Aiden’s pack back on, they switchbacked to ridgeline. The moist earth relenting under his weight as he hiked up the mountain gave Daniel a sense of power he always savored. God frowned upon such haughtiness. But Daniel enjoyed the sensation nonetheless.

  For Daniel, backpacking provided a good means to stoke his male ego, which, most times, he had to keep in a tightly sealed box. His strict pacifist upbringing dictated no overt violence of any kind. Daniel, always conscious of this tenet of his faith (ingrained in him as much as the need for prayer before meals), had never struck another human being in his life. Other than hard work, roughhouse games, and being the decision makers in their households, Amish males had few avenues to let loose their testosterone. Hiking high above the world infused him with a sense of masculinity he valued.

  Three hours later, they crested one of the highest peaks in the Swan Range. Scattered snowdrifts dotted the nine-thousand-foot peak like dollops of marshmallow cream. Aiden snapped pictures of him and Daniel while they took turns standing in the snow. Aiden expressed amazement at standing in snow in August, when daytime temperatures on the peak hovered near seventy. His honey-brown eyes nearly popped from his head when Daniel told him some of the snow piles were leftovers from last winter.

  Resting their burning back muscles, they stripped off their packs and explored the high-country flora. Aiden, always inquisitive, wondered how things had evolved, or why God had made a certain plant the way He had. He took the long stem of the moonwort fern into his hands, gazing at its sublimity. He insisted Daniel sniff the calypso orchids spreading along the trail. They caressed the velvety softness of the club moss, examined the oyster mushrooms growing on the south-facing trunks of a cluster of birch trees. “Nature’s shelves,” Aiden quipped.

  In the woods, the world always seemed new to them, as if they were the first human beings, like Adam and Eve, to experience it. Blood pumped into their brains, eyes, and noses. Everything was fresh and new, created for their sole discovery.

  Aiden slipped on some scree but laughed it off. Daniel’s heart somersaulted. “Be careful,” he said. “You have to watch your footing.”

  “I’m a klutz,” Aiden said. “But don’t worry so much. I can handle it.”

  “You’d save me a lot of fret if you’d watch where you’re going. Now let’s get our packs back on and start moving.”

  They strapped on their packs and continued hiking upslope. A short distance along, Aiden stopped in his tracks.

  “Wow! Take a look at that.”

  He squatted to examine bear tracks that crossed the muddy trail upslope into a patch of forest. He compared one paw print to his hand. “Sure is big. Look, makes my hand look like a baby’s. I’m pretty sure it’s a grizzly.”

  “How do you know?” Daniel tried to rein back the concern in his voice.

  “You can see the claw marks. Black bears don’t usually leave claw marks. And look how the toes are straight across, not curved like a black bear’s.” Aiden shuffled along several of the tracks. “How big do you think it is? Maybe a three hundred, four hundred pounder?”

  “With a stride that wide, probably more,” Daniel said. “Now don’t go too far. You don’t know where that bear is. Tracks look fresh.”

  “I’ve never seen a grizzly in the wild before, not even from a distance,” Aiden said. He wondered aloud how big the bear might be, if it were male or female, and if it was gorging before winter hibernation. “You think it’s close? Do you think we’ll see it?”

  Daniel chuckled at Aiden’s enthusiasm. “Let’s hope not,” he said, shaking his head. “Now, we best get moving. I want to set up camp and maybe get some fishing in before dark.”

  They left the bear tracks and continued to switchback up the western slope to Black Lake. Their first semi-clear view of the glacier lakes that dotted the Jewel Basin appeared to the east. The high valley, speckled with pointy emerald peaks, covered several hundred square miles between the Swan Range to the west and the Hungry Horse Reservoir to the east. The trail leveled off through a dense grove of hemlocks. Daniel told Aiden he needed to stop and tie his boot laces.

  “Don’t go too far ahead,” he called. Once done, he went to catch up with Aiden, but he had disappeared.

  “Aiden?”

  The thin ribbon of trail stretched a good fifty yards before taking a sharp bend. Aiden, despite being spry and quick, could not have hiked any farther ahead while Daniel had spent only a minute tying his boots. He followed along Aiden’s boot prints, which turned into the forest—next to a set of bear tracks. Moisture sapped from Daniel’s mouth.

  Inspecting the bear tracks more closely, he decided they’d been left by the same bear that had left tracks in the meadow. Distinct claw marks,
straight across, punctured the soil. He judged the grizzly had wandered through the forest, cut across the trail, turned, and headed back into the woods. Along the same path as Aiden’s tracks.

  He hollered for Aiden again. No answer. Growing dizzy with worry, he peered around the massive tree trunks. Sunrays sliced through the lofty trees and cast a haze that made focusing difficult. Fatigued from the strenuous six-thousand-foot ascent, Daniel battled his weakening eyes. His legs wobbled. Suddenly the conifers of the forest turned ugly and sinister, like ogres.

  He and Aiden had spent hundreds of hours on the backcountry trails near their cabin and had yet to encounter a bear or cougar. Only a matter of time before they did. Most predators sought surprise attacks. That’s what alarmed him. He recalled what a local old-timer had once told them: “For every mile you hike in Montana, at least one bear will be spying you without you knowing it.”

  “Aiden!”

  A rustling sound rooted his boots to the trail. He slowly rotated his shoulders. A red squirrel, foraging in the duff on the ground, chirped and snapped pine needles. Angry at the little pest, Daniel kicked dirt at it from the trail. The rodent scurried a few yards, began nibbling again under the duff. He was about to tramp through the grove of trees, unconcerned about cuts and scrapes or territorial beasts, shouting out Aiden’s name, when something much larger crunched through the trees from his right. Panicked, he twisted to look.

  “Hi,” Aiden said, grinning.

  Daniel, his heart thumping like a jaybird caught in a net, fumed. “Where you been?”

  “Nature called.”

  “You shoulda told me. I had no idea where you went.”

  “You were tying your boots,” Aiden said. “I only went down that slope a bit. I was gone only a minute.”

  “You were gone longer than that. Why didn’t you answer me when I hollered for you?”

  “You can’t hear much in this dense forest.”

  “I thought something happened to you. I thought maybe that bear got you.”

  Aiden snickered. “Don’t be silly.”

  “Look.” Daniel pointed to the bear tracks next to Aiden’s. “That bear was near on your tail.”

  “Wow.” Aiden gazed down at the tracks. “He must’ve been right on top of me without me even knowing. I wish I’d seen him.”

  “Next time, stay closer,” Daniel said.

  “You worry too much.”

  “Come on.” Daniel grabbed Aiden’s hand and hauled him down the trail.

  WITHIN an hour, they caught their first view of Black Lake, glistening under the afternoon sun like a jewel. No wonder the pioneers named the area Jewel Basin, Aiden mused as he and Daniel descended the tree-lined trail toward the lake. Difficult to believe such beauty graced their backyard.

  Shallow snowfields layered the meadows abutting the forest that bordered the lake. Shielded from the sun by the surrounding higher elevations and towering trees, the snowfields left indelible imprints of unpredictable weather patterns common to mountains. An August snowstorm might arise more quickly than the bend of bear grass in the wind. Aiden shrugged off his backpack and built a stocky snowman from one of the snowfields. In a much better humor after Aiden promised never to wander off again, Daniel snapped a few pictures while Aiden posed next to his snowy creation.

  “An August snowman,” Aiden said, his cheeks stretching to what felt like his ears.

  “Almost as out of place as we are in most of the world,” Daniel said. Aiden detected the regret in Daniel’s ebony eyes the moment he’d uttered those somber words. Rolling his eyes, Daniel smiled softly and reached for Aiden’s hand.

  Fingers woven together, they hiked through the thick foliage and into a small clearing, where they spied the shores of Black Lake. After finding their designated campsite, they set up their two-man tent and made their way down to the lake to fill their water canisters. Aiden watched the muscles in Daniel’s forearms flex as Daniel, squatting low, worked the pump of their portable filter.

  Aiden set down his canister and crouched next to him, draping an arm across his strapping back. Daniel did not flinch from Aiden’s touch or shrug him off. In the woods, away from the judgmental glare of civilization, he always showed more comfort with open affection. Resting his arms a moment, Daniel looked from under his wide-brimmed hat into Aiden’s eyes. Daniel’s thick, dark bangs curled and lay damp against his forehead. He pushed the brim of his straw hat higher on his head with the back of his hand and kissed Aiden on the nose.

  “I wish you were as comfortable with me everywhere else as you are in the woods,” Aiden said. With his free hand, he let his fingertips break the surface of the lake. The water was refreshingly cool. He placed a droplet on Daniel’s nose and pecked it off.

  “Come on.” Daniel picked up the water canisters and headed back to camp.

  Aiden followed behind, his eyes stuck on his boyfriend’s stalwart form. Only the massive hemlocks detracted from his muscular bulk. There must be some way to get him to loosen up outside of the rustic backcountry.

  Back at the campsite, the air grew chilly as the sun disappeared behind a band of fluffy clouds. Aiden hugged himself and watched Daniel rig a urethane cord between two hemlock branches. He would use it to suspend their backpacks away from opportunistic animals. Even in his gawky boots, his six-foot-four frame seemed to hover over the ground, easily gliding from spot to spot. With each move, Aiden watched his sinewy muscles flex under his hiking clothes. Daniel stopped and sniffed the air, perhaps checking the weather.

  Daniel would always be Amish, Aiden mulled, watching him use his farm-honed instincts to inspect his environment. No matter how far they lived from Henry, Illinois, his Amish ancestry would follow them.

  “Well,” Daniel said, continuing with his toil. The veins on his neck were thick with blood. “Are you going to do nothing but stare at me?”

  “I was thinking about when we ran into each other in Glacier Park that first time,” Aiden said. “Sometimes I still can’t believe it.”

  “God has unique ways about Him.” Daniel went back to tying a sturdy knot on the cord.

  Aiden studied him a moment more. “I think we should talk,” he said. “I mean really talk. It will make us both feel better.”

  Daniel stopped and looked at him. “You mean it will make you feel better. Sometimes you get up on that soapbox and don’t ever come down.”

  “No, Daniel….”

  “Aren’t you satisfied with what you got? The cabin? The woods? Me?”

  “I am, Daniel, I am. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Aiden eased off. Perhaps he should furnish Daniel more time. They had only been boyfriends for barely three months. Give him time. Time to acclimate. Don’t push him. Or he really might leave.

  Dejected and tired, Aiden slumped to his haunches and poked at the pine-needle-covered ground with a twig. A few minutes later, Daniel’s strong hand pressed on his shoulder.

  “Don’t just sit there and sulk,” Daniel said, his tone genial. “Make yourself useful and help me collect some firewood.”

  Night brought chilly breezes off the mountain peaks into the basin, so they put extra effort into searching for the highest quality wood for burning. They gathered several bushels of white pine and formed a fire teepee in the fire pit. After a supper of day-old pot roast baked in half-moon pies, a technique Aiden had learned by watching Daniel’s mother prepare lunch with leftovers, they lit the kindling, and soon a crackling fire illuminated the small parcel of woods next to their tent.

  Staring into the flames while they sat on a fallen log, Aiden confronted a strange gloominess. The woods sometimes brought out pestering anxieties, even when he was with Daniel. Why did Daniel refuse to take him back home to Illinois? They couldn’t possibly spend their entire lives together dodging family… dodging the entire world. When would they stop? Yet Aiden harbored worries of his own. Many uncertainties lurked in Illinois. Some that might keep Daniel from wanting to return to Montana. From wa
nting to return to him.

  He had always suspected Daniel had been tempted to stay in Henry during his latest trip home, soon after their chance meeting in Glacier National Park. Once he acknowledged that he and Aiden were meant to be together, Daniel had returned to break off his engagement to his fiancée, Tara Hostetler. Daniel had proposed to Tara when Aiden still lived in Henry, to screen his true feelings. While Daniel was gone, Aiden, holed up at an extended-stay motel in Whitefish, had spent his days fearing Daniel might never return.

  Yet the both of them going back to Illinois might be the milestone their relationship needed. Unfinished issues demanded resolving. For their relationship to evolve, both he and Daniel needed to cauterize those loose ends. But mostly, he wanted to see the Schrocks again. He always did think of them as his second family. He was touched that Mark had taken special care to invite him to his wedding.

  Aiden watched Daniel stoke the fire with a stick. Sparks sputtered and scattered through the conifer branches before disappearing into the black sky. He leaned into Daniel. Warmth from Daniel’s body, from the campfire, and from the fire that burned within him mocked the mountain chill. He rested his hand on Daniel’s knee. Almost subconsciously, he reached for Daniel through his hiking pants and held on. Daniel did not stir from his intimate touch or try to remove his hand. Instead, he held Aiden closer and tighter. Out in the woods, that was his way.

  Slowly, Aiden began to massage Daniel with his fingertips, over the nylon fabric, until he sensed they were both lulled into an almost trance-like calm.

  “That’s nice,” Daniel whispered.

  Aiden’s heart began to beat erratically and burn inside his chest. His breathing came in short gasps.

  Daniel’s soft smile faded. He gripped Aiden’s shoulders and stared at him. Flames reflected in his dark eyes. His beard tightened as the shadows deepened around his mouth.

  “Let’s go into the tent,” he said.

  A tingle shot through Aiden’s body. “Yeah,” he said. “Okay.”