The Birds and the Bees

I'd Climb the Highest Mountain

I have to admit, taking Adrian's Mercedes to the property in Suches had been a good idea. I appreciated the way the cabriolet handled the sharp, hairpin curves and didn't miss a beat on the inclines. However, it became clear once we got to the property line that we would have to park it at the bottom of the trail and hike the nearly quarter of a mile to the site where one day, I hoped, my house in bee farm would be located.

The previous day, a small-time photographer for an entertainment blog had snapped a picture of the two of us sitting on a bench in Inman Park eating tacos (I had managed to nab Adrian a vegan one from the food truck minutes before he met me at our rendezvous) and wiping salsa from each other's mouths with napkins while laughing at nothing. I have to admit, it was cute and definitely one for the books and would probably look very nice once it appeared on the internet. I just couldn't help but wishing it had been a more major tabloid...

We hadn't spoken about the text I had sent him a few days ago. In fact, other than to comment on the weather and the geography, we hadn't spoken much at all on the nearly two-hour drive into the mountains.

"This is it," I told him as we were approaching a gap between two rock faces. I glanced up at the trees through the car window. "We'll have to walk up. It's going to be cold."

"Good thing I brought a couple of extra coats," Adrian said cheerfully.

I wasn't sure if a couple of extra coats was going to do it today. The skies had an ominous grayish white color about them and were thick and numerous above the still naked trees. They looked like snow clouds even though snow hadn't been called for today. Of course, a lot of times I just waited to get the local weather report for the city and didn't pay much attention to what was going on nearly a hundred miles north of me.

Adrian opened my door and I stepped out, gasping at the sharp, biting wind which met me. "Jesus!" I cried hugging myself.

Adrian looked askance at me and immediately reached for one of his spare coats. "Don't you come up here pretty frequently?" he asked, holding the coat out for me.

"M-many times," I replied slipping my arms into the too-big sleeves. "In June."

Adrian chuckled, buttoned his coat up to the neck, and looking, in his dark wash jeans, Timberland boots, and button-down flannel shirt under which I knew he was wearing at least two shirts, as if he belonged here. How did he do it? I wondered. For myself, I had chosen my most distressed pair of jeans, because they were comfortable, and a white turtleneck sweater with sleeves that came down over my hands sporting thumb holes I had worked in myself. The only other concession to the cold I had made was the fluffy cashmere beret and matching scarf I wore wound around my neck.

"At least the trail isn't too long," I remarked, glancing down at my shiny black Nordstrom knee boots. "If I remember correctly, there's an overhang we can sit under. At least it'll be shelter from the wind..."

I found I was talking to myself as Adrian had gone to the trunk of the Mercedes to withdraw our picnic basket. The cold didn't seem to be bothering him at all.

He flashed me that dazzling smile and held his other arm out for me to take. "Shall we?" he asked cheekily as if we were at a fucking cotillion.

I bit my lip to keep from laughing. "You're gonna need that hand, Tarzan," I snorted. "You might need to steady yourself up this trail."

Adrian looked up the path leading to the promontory where my house would be built someday soon, then looked back down at me grinning. "Trail? This isn't a trail, Eugenie."

I raised my eyebrows and placed my hand in his outstretched one. "Look, I realize it's not the Inca or even the Appalachian Trail, but it's still pretty steep."