Adirondacks.”
“The Daniel Day-Lewis movie?”
“I think it’s referring to the 1826 book.”
“Oh.”
“The park is the largest national historic landmark in the US. Over six million acres, a million of them wilderness. It’s bigger than Vermont. More than three thousand lakes and thirty thousand miles of river. Two thousand miles of hiking trail.”
Growing up on a farm, Ian had been raised to respect nature. Though most “Christians” he saw on TV over the years seemed content with paving over creation in the name of capitalism and enterprise, the church farmers actually had deep convictions concerning the stewardship of God’s handiwork. Ian didn’t believe in God anymore, but he still felt the synergy at work in the natural world around him and recognized the good sense in preserving it. If he was political, he’d be a proud member of the Green Party. Maybe. While he figured a person would have to be a complete moron to think that mankind didn’t affect the environment (how could cutting down rainforests, spilling unfathomable amounts of oil into the ocean and dumping an eternity of chemicals into the ground not affect the ecosystem?), he wasn’t on board with all the environmental dogmas being preached by such parties. And thus another reason for his subsequent absence within the political spectrum. Too many boxes, too many labels, too many contradictions. The party mentality was not for him because he couldn’t bring himself, in good conscience, to choose certain issues over the death of others that were equally important to him. He’d rather leave the charade up to the suits in Washington and the people who felt it was their national duty to vote them in.
The next song was “Winter Wonderland,” a song appropriate to their surroundings. Ian was glad that places like this were protected, that the animals actually had a habitat that wasn’t in danger of being replaced by some resort or shopping mall or corporate center. It was the circle of life, baby, and if humans wanted to maintain a sustaining presence on the planet, it would probably help to keep the planet alive. Of course he’d be called “tree hugger” for thinking such things, again with the labels. Seemed to him you were either huggin’ trees and smoking pot or a parasite raping other countries’ natural resources. He looked into the trees and could see the frozen lakes through the tiny, moving windows. It was beautiful. But beautiful out here could also be deadly, which was where his respect for the wild came into play…and why the facts Heather was reading from her phone were beginning to trouble him. Because if anything went wrong out here…
His phone began vibrating. Heather’s eyes lifted in feigned interest.
A text message. Ian read it while keeping one eye on the road.
WHY DIDN’T YOU MARRY JESSICA?
He frowned and looked up into the mirror. Why was Heather bringing this up now? “Seriously?” he asked.
A look of confusion clouded her face. “What?”
Ian shook his head. Another text.
DOES ANYONE ELSE KNOW YOUR SECRET?
“What the hell does that mean?” Ian whispered back to her.
Heather was quiet for a moment, her eyes sliding back and forth through the car. “You talkin’ to me?” she finally said to the mirror holding Ian’s angry eyes.
“Yeah, I’m talking to you.” He held the phone up. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Your text messages. ‘Why didn’t I marry Jessica?’ What are you doing?”
“I didn’t send you a text message.”
He looked at the phone, his other hand squeezing the steering wheel. The phone had indeed displayed her name and number as the sender. “This isn’t funny, Heather.”
She leaned forward and tossed her phone onto his lap. “Show me where I sent you a text message.”
He exchanged his phone with hers and brought up the list of sent texts. The last text she’d sent to him was last night after
“The Daniel Day-Lewis movie?”
“I think it’s referring to the 1826 book.”
“Oh.”
“The park is the largest national historic landmark in the US. Over six million acres, a million of them wilderness. It’s bigger than Vermont. More than three thousand lakes and thirty thousand miles of river. Two thousand miles of hiking trail.”
Growing up on a farm, Ian had been raised to respect nature. Though most “Christians” he saw on TV over the years seemed content with paving over creation in the name of capitalism and enterprise, the church farmers actually had deep convictions concerning the stewardship of God’s handiwork. Ian didn’t believe in God anymore, but he still felt the synergy at work in the natural world around him and recognized the good sense in preserving it. If he was political, he’d be a proud member of the Green Party. Maybe. While he figured a person would have to be a complete moron to think that mankind didn’t affect the environment (how could cutting down rainforests, spilling unfathomable amounts of oil into the ocean and dumping an eternity of chemicals into the ground not affect the ecosystem?), he wasn’t on board with all the environmental dogmas being preached by such parties. And thus another reason for his subsequent absence within the political spectrum. Too many boxes, too many labels, too many contradictions. The party mentality was not for him because he couldn’t bring himself, in good conscience, to choose certain issues over the death of others that were equally important to him. He’d rather leave the charade up to the suits in Washington and the people who felt it was their national duty to vote them in.
The next song was “Winter Wonderland,” a song appropriate to their surroundings. Ian was glad that places like this were protected, that the animals actually had a habitat that wasn’t in danger of being replaced by some resort or shopping mall or corporate center. It was the circle of life, baby, and if humans wanted to maintain a sustaining presence on the planet, it would probably help to keep the planet alive. Of course he’d be called “tree hugger” for thinking such things, again with the labels. Seemed to him you were either huggin’ trees and smoking pot or a parasite raping other countries’ natural resources. He looked into the trees and could see the frozen lakes through the tiny, moving windows. It was beautiful. But beautiful out here could also be deadly, which was where his respect for the wild came into play…and why the facts Heather was reading from her phone were beginning to trouble him. Because if anything went wrong out here…
His phone began vibrating. Heather’s eyes lifted in feigned interest.
A text message. Ian read it while keeping one eye on the road.
WHY DIDN’T YOU MARRY JESSICA?
He frowned and looked up into the mirror. Why was Heather bringing this up now? “Seriously?” he asked.
A look of confusion clouded her face. “What?”
Ian shook his head. Another text.
DOES ANYONE ELSE KNOW YOUR SECRET?
“What the hell does that mean?” Ian whispered back to her.
Heather was quiet for a moment, her eyes sliding back and forth through the car. “You talkin’ to me?” she finally said to the mirror holding Ian’s angry eyes.
“Yeah, I’m talking to you.” He held the phone up. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Your text messages. ‘Why didn’t I marry Jessica?’ What are you doing?”
“I didn’t send you a text message.”
He looked at the phone, his other hand squeezing the steering wheel. The phone had indeed displayed her name and number as the sender. “This isn’t funny, Heather.”
She leaned forward and tossed her phone onto his lap. “Show me where I sent you a text message.”
He exchanged his phone with hers and brought up the list of sent texts. The last text she’d sent to him was last night after
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