Free Saving Grace (Katie & Annalise Book 1) by Pamela Fagan Hutchins Page A

carefully, I picked my way through the story, trying not to set off any landmines that would blow up my fragile Nick-peace.
    Ava said, “You better off without him. I’ma take care of you, and find you a man to keep your mind occupied this week.”
    “No men, Ava.”
    “Huh. So you gonna pine? Looks like you not running from him too hard.”
    “No pining. I’m running. Really.”
    Ava didn’t look convinced. “If you say so, Katie. If you say so.”

Chapter Twelve
    The disturbing alarm ringtone on my iPhone blared in my ear at 6:30 a.m.
    “Damn it, Ava,” I said.
    I shut it off and got dressed. Ava had insisted I do this rainforest hike, and I’d eventually caved. She called her friend Rashidi to sign me up, and he made room for me. Apparently he had quite a waiting list, but would do anything for Ava. How just like everybody else of him.
    When I got to the rally point in front of the resort, it took only one glance at Rashidi to understand why he stayed overbooked. He was exotic, with a lean, dark physique. He wore neatly-tied dreadlocks that hung all the way to his waist. Maybe Ava ought to give him a second look. He made Guy seem a trifle effeminate.
    Rashidi walked through the tittering mass of mostly female hikers, checking us for appropriate clothing, footwear, sunscreen, bug spray, hats, and hydration. He sent a few women back to their rooms and the hotel gift shop for supplies, and one or two he delicately queried about their constitutions and health.
    “The rainforest on St. Marcos one of the most beautiful places in the world, but it rugged, ladies, and it harsh.” His Calypso accent was thick, much thicker than Ava’s, with his “th” sounding like “t” and all the g’s and d’s dropped from the end of his words, but he was understandable. “There may be some of you would enjoy it more with a drivin’ tour.” Me! Would it be wrong to raise my hand? I thought.
    “These hills steep. The sun rough. There be centipedes as long as me foot.” Someone laughed. “I not jokin’ you, ladies and gentlemen. You will see beautiful trees, blossoms and vines, but they can reach out with their thorns and stickers and tear your soft skin. They grow thick together, so at times I be using this,” he patted the machete strung across his hip, “to clear a path for us to get through. You ain’t gonna make me sad if you decide this hike not for you. I can only carry one of you out if you get hurt or fall to our tropical heat, so leave now if you gonna be leavin’.”
    One portly woman with tightly curled gray hair, who was already sweating profusely and sporting beet-red cheeks, opted out. The rest of us fell in line whispering and shuffle-footing as Rashidi continued his commentary. When he finished, we filed onto the shuttle bus for the ride to the rainforest. As he walked up the center aisle of the shuttle, he stopped at me.
    “You Ava’s red-haired Katie?” he asked.
    “Guilty,” I said.
    He sucked his teeth, a sound I’d heard a few times in the last two days. “Chuptzing,” Ava had called it, when I asked her last night. A derisive noise. Hopefully intended for Ava, not me.
    I smiled hopefully, and he grinned and said, “That girl a problem. Welcome, Katie.”
    We drove to the west end of the island along oceanside roads and then cut up into the hills. The driver parked the shuttle in front of a restored two-story plantation home that was now a museum. Its whitewashed boards stood in stark contrast to the green of the forest surrounding it. A vegetable garden beside the house gave way to a stand of banana trees, the bunches of fruit bowing them over. Rashidi said they were called babyfingers because the bananas were short and stubby.
    The group hike started from the parking lot and we crossed the road to pick up the trail into the forest. The scenery was gorgeous. Even the drive yesterday hadn’t done justice to the beauty I experienced once we started walking. On foot, I could hear the