Page 27 of Forest Proximity
He clears his throat, frowning at the sky. “Uh, yeah.”
I don’t have to ask whether he thinks connecting with the earth is beneficial. The answer is all over his handsome, skeptical face.
I don’t care what he thinks. Whenever I walk barefoot on the ground, I feel better. My stress level goes down, I’m happier, and I sleep better. It may not be scientifically proven, but neither is heaven, and I know that’s real. I’m feeling it right now. Warm sunshine on my shoulders, blue sky, and a beautiful man a stone’s throw away? That is heaven to me.
I sigh. “This is my favorite thing in the world,” I say as I pick my way ahead carefully.
Adam doesn’t take off his boots, but he stays close while I soak in the morning light and pad down the trail slower than before. He doesn’t ask me to clarify. He just walks beside me, occasionally scanning the trees and the ground ahead.
After a few more minutes he says, “I have some rabbits,” out of nowhere, his voice gravelly from disuse.
That startles a laugh out of me. “What?”
Instead of answering, he steps closer, pulling my heavy boots off my arm and slinging them over his shoulder. “Uh, New England cottontail rabbits are endangered. There’s an area of the preserve that I’ve been working on to provide a good habitat. Would you ...” He holds out a hand to help me over a tall outcropping of granite.
My heart skips at the contact. Geez, his hands are big. I’m not a small woman, but I’m swallowed up by him. I still don’t knowwhat to think about Adam, but I don’t mind the way his hand feels around mine. “Would I what?”
He lets go way too soon. “I’m monitoring possible nests. I usually come out around sunset.” He drums his fingers against his thigh while we walk. “Would you like to join me?”
This isn’t even close to what I thought he was going to say. I thought he had another lecture about the risks of intruding on his bunny habitat. Instead, he’s asking me to help him ... or something. I don’t know what to call it when a man invites a woman to spy on rabbits with him. I’m not sure why he wants me there, but the more time I spend in these woods, the more likely I am to find what I’m after.
“Sure.” I step carefully over a tree root. “I’m in.”
An hour or so later, I walk into my parents’ house with bare feet and an unrestrained smile on my face.
“Anyone home?” I call from the small foyer.
“Back here,” my dad answers from the direction of the family room.
I make my way back and find my parents eating breakfast and watching an old episode ofSeinfeld.
I hold my hand up dramatically. “Helloooooo!” I announce, imitating a bit from the show.
My dad looks up from his scrambled egg hash with a proud smile on his weathered face. “Hellooooooo!” he croons, joining me in the joke. QuotingSeinfeldis the glue that holds the Sullivan family together.
“Stevie Saoirse Sullivan.” My mom is glaring at my feet. “You did not just walk all over my clean floors with those filthy feet.”
A few minutes later, my feet still wet from the garden hose, I’m back in the kitchen helping myself to the rest of my parents’ breakfast. “Sorry, Ma.”
She shakes her head but smiles. “Were you in the woods again?”
She knows what I’m up to. I told my parents all about the bet with my friends, and they’ve seen the video. My mom is supportive in the way that the parent of a beginning trumpet player is supportive. There’s a lot of cringing and turning a deaf ear, but I know she loves me.
My dad, on the other hand, is all in. He’s fully invested in finding a sasquatch and keeping his only daughter away from men, Good Enough or otherwise.
His eyes light up. “Did you see anything?”
“Not today,” I say with a long sigh, digging into my breakfast.
I was too distracted by my company. Adam stayed quietly by my side until I got back to my car. He put my muddy boots in my trunk for me, waved goodbye, and that was that. I can’t decide if he was watching out for me or escorting me out of the preserve. I was so dazed by the whole interaction, I forgot to put on the flip flops I keep in my car for the drive home. Even the barefoot drive to my parents’ house is a blur. I need to get my head on straight.
“Have you heard from the boys?” my mom asks.
My brothers have been “the boys” for as long as I can remember, even though the youngest of them is in his mid-thirties. The Boys are like a single entity, except they’ve scattered to Boston, Denver, and Portland for each of their jobs. They’re all married, and it seems like I have a new niece or nephew on the horizon every other year. I’m the youngest of the Sullivan children, and the quiet in my parents’ house makes me ache. It’s unnatural. My brothers and their families are overdue for a visit.
My shoulders droop. “Not really. Conor called after my date last night—”
“Oh, that’s right!” My mom doesn’t let me finish, “How was it?”
