Page 6 of Intermission

“Look, I’m sorry we bothered you. We’ll go. Janey, come.”

“Wait. You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to. There’s a dry spot here by the ledge. We could share the rock, if you’d like. If your dog isn’t going to kill me, that is.”

I laugh. “Janey’s not going to kill you.”

“That’s a relief. But since you’ve hiked all this way, you might as well enjoy the view.” Noah lifts a hand to gesture toward the sky. “It’s a beautiful night. And there might not be too many left before winter.”

He’s right. And I really donotwant to go home to Gretchen’s beer fest.

Noah has the reputation of being a good guy—which is more than I can say for the collection of douche-canoes that usually show up to Gretchen’s parties. I think it’s safe. If Noah Spencer turns out to be bad news, I’m betting it wouldn’t take much for Janey to rip out his throat.

But I’m hoping that isn’t necessary, because the loss of that singing voice would grieve the world.

I toe off my shoes and remove my socks to cross the stream. Several achingly cold, wet steps later I arrive on the only dry spot of the overhang.

“Smart.” Noah nods at my shoes. “I got my boots all wet.” He offers his hand. “Hi. I’m Noah. But I guess you already knew that.”

He wants to shake hands? Odd, but... okay. It’s kind of charming.

I tuck my shoes under my arm and meet his hand with my own. “Nice to meet you. I’m Faith. And this is Janey.”

Noah offers an open palm to my dog and is rewarded with a deep-throated growl.

“Be nice, Janey.” I stroke a hand over her head but speak to Noah. “Don’t worry. She’ll warm up to you.”

Janey growls again.

I laugh. “Or not.”

“Protective, is she?”

“That’s the Akita in her. She’s a good dog.” I sit down to put on my socks and shoes. “We’re not used to running into anyone up here. Not a lot of people come to the preserve this time of year, you know? Especially after dark. You’ve messed with her routine.”

“So it would seem.” Noah sits as well. “But like I said, it wasn’t dark yet when I hiked in. I guess I lost track of time and then I... well, I got lost.” He shakes his head. “It’s kind of silly, actually. I was nearly ready to write this waterfall off as an urban myth—”

“Or aruralmyth, as the case may be.”

“Right.” He laughs. “Anyway, I finally stumbled—and that’s a literal statement,” he says with a slight groan in his voice, “upon the creek. I decided to follow it. I figured I’d discover either a trail out or the elusive waterfall I’ve heard so much about.”

“You’re not injured or anything, are you?”

“No, no. Nothing like that. Well, unless you count my pride. I’ve been sitting here for the past hour wondering if I’ll be able to find my way out... or if I need to channel my inner survivalist and construct some sort of short-term shelter.”

“Your rescue service has arrived.” I give an abbreviated bow, tilting my head. “I know the way to the entrance. Just say the word when you’re ready to go.”

“Really? Thanks. I feel like an idiot for getting lost, but I’m not stupid enough to turn down an offer of help. And even though it was something of an accident, I did find the waterfall I guess, so...” He shrugs, smiling. “Mission accomplished?”

“I don’t think very many people know it’s here. The county’s website has a map that lists it, but since there’s not an official trail that leads to the waterfall, it’s not easy to find unless you’ve been here before.”

“A map. Now that would have been handy. I wish the guy who told me about this place would have mentioned there was a map.”

“I’d guess he doesn’t know about it. Most people probably don’t even realize the county has a website.”

“True. And nature tromping isn’t really Mr. Barron’s style. Do you know him? The KHS choir director?”

“Sure.”

“I guess one of his vocal students comes out here a lot to practice, and she said the acoustics were really good.”