Free Wild Within (Wild at Heart #1) by Christine Hartmann Page A

across the room to the sack of green and black nylon. It lacked fancy zippers or straps. Her fingers felt the material. “I’ve never seen a pack like this before. Looks basically like a duffle bag. I give up.”
    “It’s for hiking.”
    A growing awareness grew in Grace’s chest. She glanced around again. “All this is for hiking? Where was he going? Nepal?”
    “Nope. Canada.”
    Her foot nudged a bag of dried beans. “They don’t have food in Canada?”
    Celine snickered. “He wasn’t starting in Canada. That’s where the route ends. He was going to hike the Pacific Crest Trail. It starts at the Mexican border and goes through California, Oregon, and Washington.”
    “So which part was he going to hike?”
    “All of it.”
    “You’re kidding. How long does that take? Years?”
    “About five months.”
    “You’re serious?”
    “Absolutely.”
    “That’s nuts.”
    “Absolutely.” Celine returned Grace’s long stare.
    Without another word, they returned to the living room.
    “So, Kenji was going to hike from Mexico to Canada?” Grace rolled her eyes. “That’s what he was talking about at the party?”
    “That was the plan. He spent all his free time arranging things. He was in that room a lot. Always obsessing about details. Weighing everything. Scared he wasn’t taking the right stuff. Worried he’d get sick of the food he’d picked out.”
    “And what about all the cardboard boxes? I don’t get that.”
    “They’re drop boxes. Boxes I was going to send him.”
    “Huh?” Grace pushed hair from her face. “How would he get the boxes if he was out in the middle of the wilderness?”
    “He’d hitchhike or walk into towns with post offices. You send stuff there and they hold it for you until you pick it up. We printed out labels from the PCT Website.”
    “PCT? You mean the Pacific Whatever Trail?”
    “Crest. And I can’t believe I’m sounding like a fricking expert. I know jack. Just what Kenji told me.”
    “When he said at the picnic he was going hiking, I thought he meant an overnight trip. You know, sneaking into Muir Woods to sleep under the redwoods like we did when we were kids. Maybe a week in Yosemite. But what you’re describing sounds like a full-time job.”
    Celine nodded. “More like a full-time adventure.”
    “What’d he think he’d get out of it?”
    “At night he’d say, ‘Celine, I found part of myself when I found you. Now I have to find the other part.’” Celine’s voice faltered.
    Grace leaned across the sofa and gave the young woman a squeeze.
    “Look, Celine. I know you want him back. So do I. But I don’t think it’s good for you to be here by yourself every weekend. This isn’t a shrine. More like a tomb. And you’re too young and pretty to turn into a zombie. Let’s plan on coming here together next Saturday. I can help you do a little packing, okay?”
    That evening, Grace pulled a wooden kitchen chair into her one-bedroom condominium’s bay window. She sat in the dark, staring out at the blackness of San Rafael Bay in the distance.
    If Kenji were hiking, he could walk from here to San Francisco. Or from here to Sacramento. Or to Oregon. He could walk to Canada. So what about me?
     
    ***
     
    A few days later, Grace and her sister sat in a bright Vietnamese restaurant in Oakland.
    “Did I tell you Harrison got a job offer in Atlanta?” Hope bit into a vermicelli summer roll.
    Grace choked on her iced coffee. “What? Atlanta? No, you didn’t tell me. I’d remember something like that.” Her complexion blanched and then regained its color. “Oh, wait. You’re kidding. Very funny, Hope. You had me there for a moment.” She grinned and attacked her noodle dish.
    Hope didn’t speak. Grace raised her head. Then she dropped her chopsticks. They bounced off her bowl and clattered to the floor, rolling across the pink and grey linoleum to the neighboring table.
    Hope picked them up, wrapped them in her napkin, and placed them with