Once Upon a Road Trip (16 page)

“It does, doesn’t it?” Eve sighed. “I just hope Evan doesn’t plan on dropping Leigh once it’s over. They’ve been seeing each other since her first semester of college, and he’s been real dodgy on commitment. I kept telling her, ‘Leigh, don’t make it easy for him now or he’ll just expect he can be lazy later. Make him prove he’s worthy of you.’ Not that she listens to a word I say. But, what do I know? I’ve only been happily married to a great guy for the last five years.” Her sarcasm came across as cheerful rather than bitter.

“Some would probably call that luck,” Angie said with a faint smile. Internally, she was impressed. Not only was she finding Eve likeable, but there was a level-headed astuteness about her that Angie already admired. 

Eve shrugged, seeming to downplay the obvious passion she had for the subject. “Luck is for rabbits and the unprepared.” She paused after the declaration to take a bite of her muffin before adding, “I had a good screening process. Saved me from a world of heartache.”

Zak sedately monitored the exchange between the women. “Evan had better come through, or he and I are going to have an unfortunate...chat.” He eyed the picture long after Eve had replaced it.

Angie glanced to Zak, wondering if his assertion was some sort of vague threat. At the very least he seemed protective of his sister. She liked that.

“When you say ‘talk,’ do you mean something on the order of the warning you gave to Peter before our wedding?” Eve raised her brows slightly at her brother before turning her attention to Angie. “Oh, yes. My then fourteen-year-old baby brother took my fiancé aside to let him know he planned to ‘break his face if he ever broke my heart.’ That sound about right?” She looked to Zak, playful in tone.

Zak slunk lower into his chair.

“That’s just about word for word.” Eve continued, directed at Angie exclusively. “I think he’d been watching too many action movies. It was absolutely adorable.” Her last syllable came out strained and she looked down, taking in a deep breath as she smoothed her hands over the cream colored maternity tunic that hugged her belly. She seemed to momentarily block out the rest of the world as she focused on a breathing exercise. “Hee hee hoooo…hee hee hoooo—”

Less disquieted this time, Angie watched Eve for a moment before glancing to Zak to gauge his reaction. His brows pinched together in a look of concern. Without a word, he got up from the table and wandered into the kitchen, taking his empty plate and one of the remaining muffins with him.

“I can’t wait for this to be over.” Eve’s pleasant smile returned as the moment passed. “I didn’t think a baby could be so stubborn. Peter insists he’s getting that from me.” She sighed, giving her belly an affectionate pat. “Let’s hope not.”

Angie smiled. “What’s his name?”

“Obie.” Eve beamed, in spite of an underlying weariness. “It’s different, I know. It’s Peter’s Grandfather’s name. They were close when he was growing up. I didn’t really like the idea at first, but it grew on me. Now I can’t imagine calling him anything else.”

“I like it,” Angie said. “I prefer unique names. There were two other Angies in my classes in elementary school, and we never knew which one of us the teachers were calling on. I finally had to start using my full name.” She glanced over her shoulder, noting Zak was pacing the kitchen. He hadn’t taken long to do the dishes, and now seemed lost without a distraction.

“He gets like that when there’s too much estrogen in the house,” Eve said, lowering her tone as she leaned toward Angie. Her warm brown eyes held a humored gleam. “You should get him outside for a while. Did you have any plans for the day?”

“None that I’m aware of, yet. We did the  museum and historic thing all day yesterday.”

Eve brightened. “Oh, then you didn’t make it to see the Canadian Shield.” When Angie didn’t show recognition, she elaborated. “It’s part of a mountain range. It extends into the United States as the Adirondack and Appalachian Mountains, if I remember correctly. Lots of great hiking trails, and there’s a cozy little French village we like to picnic at. You have -got- to go into Quebec and see it while you’re here,” she said, tone brimming with enthusiasm.

Angie was already sold on the idea. “Are they going to be annoyed that I don’t speak any French?”

“Pfffffft. Of course!” Eve laughed. “But that’s Quebec for you.” She gestured toward the kitchen where Zak had continued to seclude himself. “Zak isn’t quite fluent in French, but he’s got enough down to get by with the locals. Just remember that if you go to eat somewhere, don’t bother asking for a nonsmoking section. They get all huffy about that. The last time we ate out in Quebec and asked for smoke-free seating, they turned up their noses and pointed to Ontario.”

“What, now?” Zak reappeared in the doorway.

“You’re going to give me a tour of the Canadian Shield. Just as soon as I get dressed for hiking,” Angie informed him. When she was met with Zak’s puzzled stare, she got up and headed down the hall.

“Wear something light! It’s sweltering out there.” Eve called after her.

Donning a pair of shorts and a pale green halter top, Angie made her way back down the staircase several minutes later. To her surprise, Zak was at the bottom of the steps waiting for her. He’d changed into a blue polo shirt and khaki pants, looking ready to leave.

“Whoa,” he murmured in surprise, looking her over. “I think I’m overdressed.”

Angie froze on the second to last step and glanced down self-consciously.
“Was this a bad choice? I don’t normally go hiking.” She gave herself a half turn in preparation to dart back up the stairs. “I never wear shorts. This is like my only pair,” she added, attempting to sound less defensive than she felt.

“Why not?” Zak gave her a look of confusion. “You’d be doing the world a favor.”

“Ha ha.” She rolled her eyes, shrugging off his remark. “I was in a car accident when I was twelve—I got knocked off my bike and my legs were run over by a pickup truck. I had tread mark-shaped bruising for weeks. They’ve been a little messed up ever since,” she explained. Bending, she patted her left knee to indicate the nickel-sized scar she bore as lasting evidence. “I still can’t feel anything to the left of this kneecap.” She expected Zak to join with the majority of people she’d ever mentioned this to and declare disbelief. Instead, he gave a slight wince and ventured an assessing sweep of her legs.

“Well, they look fine to me. You should let them out more.” His brow furrowed then as he seemed to reconsider his choice of words. Angie thought she caught a flash of embarrassment before he cleared his throat, turned, and strode toward the front door. “Let’s get going before it gets any warmer out, eh?”

Angie stared after him for a bewildered moment.
Was he just flirting with me?
She’d never been much good at picking up on that sort of thing. Even if he had been, did it mean anything—? Probably not, she decided. She stepped down and around the banister.

“Just a sec. I want to say goodbye to your sister in case she’s gone by the time we get back,” she called over her shoulder, following the sounds of conversation between Cathy and Eve back into the dining area. Considering how engaged they were in talking, Angie was sure they hadn’t overheard the awkward moment between her and Zak.

That was a relief, at least.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Half an hour into Quebec, tall buildings gave way to forested hills and minimal civilization. Save for offering basic directions as they approached turns, Zak kept to himself.

He eventually directed Angie down a road that sent them winding around a deep mountain lake. Much of the terrain surrounding the clear, glittering water was made up of steeply angled shale and granite, with the occasional bit of vegetation clinging to the near-vertical surfaces. Several minutes beyond this, they arrived at a small gravel lot that proclaimed itself — in both French and English —  to be the start of a nature trail.

With the sun at its highest point, the shade of the rugged walking trail was a welcome reprieve. Zak set a leisurely pace along one of the least demanding routes. Less than a mile in, they reached the flat clearing of a precipice overlooking a vast swath of the Quebecian countryside. The view was like nothing Angie had ever seen.

Well below them at the base of the mountain range, the forests and grasslands stretched out for miles with only gently sloping terrain. The vista made it appear as if they were situated on a hilly plateau overlooking the rest of the visible world. To their right, one long, continuous cliff face had been carved out of the landscape into a gently curving backward C shape.

“That’s…the Shield?” Angie asked, once she found her voice.

Zak stood off to her left with his arms folded, surveying the landscape with a pensive smirk suggesting he was proud to be showing off the sight. He looked to her and nodded. “Nice view, eh?”

“It’s incredible,” Angie agreed, still genuinely in awe.

Their trek back to the parking area was over a mile long as they completed the trail circuit, but it was well worth the effort in Angie’s mind. The scenic overlook had given her the same sensation as being up close to Niagara Falls, but without the bitter aftertaste of solitude. She’d had an pleasant companion to share the experience with, and there was something profoundly validating about that.

It doesn’t hurt that I could really like having this guy around.
She had to admit that much to herself.

Zak directed her onto a rural road, where she noticed the occasional weathered cabin cropping up behind the tree line. A handful of aged but well-kept buildings clustered around an intersection ahead, and Zak motioned to a dirt lot in front of a small storefront. Angie glanced around at the little shops as she parked — all constructed out of raw logs and planks to give the impression of a French village with rustic influences. The overhead signs were in French, which didn’t help to orient her.

Stepping out of the car, she caught the smell of fresh bread and sweet pastries pouring out of the open door directly in front of them. The sign overhead was fashioned from wood with elegant lettering. The background was darkened by charring, which caused the name to stand out: La Boulangerie.

“Bakery?” Angie guessed, looking across her car’s roof to Zak as he got out.

“Yep.” He gave an easy smile. “I’m not real hungry yet, but I thought we could grab a few things and go walk around.”

“I like this plan.”

As divine as she found the enveloping smells, the sound of water slapping against stone drew her attention to the village square behind them. “Photo op!” she announced, noting a trio of other visitors standing around a fountain exchanging cameras. “Come on. I don’t have any pictures of both of us yet.” She motioned for Zak to follow her and she jogged over to the fountain before the tourists moved on.

Handing off her camera to an affable old man, Angie backed up to stand in front of the three-tiered, circular construct of gray stone and flowing water. Zak caught up and moved to her right, standing so close their shoulders brushed. While the older man sized them up with the camera, Zak casually wrapped an arm around her. She caught her breath in surprise. Unsure what to make of his proximity, she forced herself not to move until the picture was over with.

Still nonchalant, Zak withdrew his arm and stood by while she retrieved the camera and thanked the man.

Angie stole a quick glance at Zak, but he was already heading back toward the bakery.
Don’t read into it.
She had to guess the gesture was nothing more than friendly. To assume otherwise would be unwise — if not wishful thinking — on her part. She wasn’t about to do that to herself.

Zak tilted his head to one side as they approached the back of her car. “Normal people worry me?” He glanced her way, a single dark brow arched.

Angie let out a short laugh as she realized he was reading her bumper stickers. “‘Normal’ is such a socially skewed term.”

“I love dorks,” Zak went on, nodding in approval. “All that is gold does not glitter; not all who wander are lost.” He smirked at the J.R.R. Tolkien quote and shifted his gaze her way. “That one fits you.”

“I hope so.” Angie smiled in cautious satisfaction. She wanted to ask him which part he considered most befitting, but quickly thought better of it. “I tried to express my personality in a thought-provoking, but minimally offensive way. That happens to be a real challenge when you have an abrasive personality.”

“I don’t think you’re abrasive,” Zak said, flashing an amused smile.

Angie’s stomach skipped a beat. “Only because I’ve been on my best behavior.” She managed a factual tone, looking to the back of her car to keep herself from staring at him.

Okay, get a grip.

The inside of the bakery was stifling. Cramped and unadorned, there was barely enough standing room for six people between the door and the cash register. Display cases on either side of the central counter showed off rows of pastries to the right, and crowded shelves filled with rolls and loaves to the left. A young blonde girl manned the cash register while a squat, older woman went bustling back and forth between the front cases and the ovens behind her. Angie counted three oscillating fans, one making sweeps of the standing area, and the other two presumably making conditions in the back more bearable.

“So what’s good here?” she asked Zak, who seemed to be engrossed with the piles of fresh bread.

“Everything.” He motioned toward the more dessert-oriented display. “Pick yourself a few of anything you’d like to try. Go nuts.”

While Zak struggled through his French vocabulary in giving instruction to the older woman, Angie shifted herself over to survey the delicacies. The younger girl behind the counter smiled and patiently ran a pair of tongs over each row as Angie pointed out three different sweets that caught her eye. She had no idea what they were, but if they tasted half as good as they looked, she wouldn’t be disappointed.

The cashier placed the goodies in a white paper bag and set them on the central counter, where they joined the three wrapped loaves Zak had picked out.