Number Seventy-Five by Ashley Fontainne Read Free Book Online Page B

nuts for hitting the trail alone, but the last thing I want to hear is a chatty guide. I want to explore this place alone. With my best friend, of course.”
    “Oh, you bet. We’re big girls and we can take care of ourselves. Besides,” I said, grabbing my backpack off the couch and handing Shawna hers, “he gave me the creeps. Guess I’m still a bit wary.”
    A shadow of anger danced behind her blue eyes but quickly retreated. She slung her pack over her shoulders and then gave me a hug.
    “Of course you are, hon. Who wouldn’t be? Even I am, after all that has happened. But let’s not talk about that now. Come on,” she said, tugging me out the door, “Let’s go explore! Wide open spaces baby!”
    Ten minutes later, we were about to embark on our journey. We stood in front of the Waitukubuli Trail that would take us through the Morne Trois Pitons National Forest at the entrance of one of the most difficult climbs—Boiling Lake and Roseau Valley. It was early in the morning and the steam from the rainforest hung heavy around our feet. We each took turns hamming it up by the sign and snapped a picture of each other. We giggled at our luck since we were the only ones embarking on the rugged walk. We were just two happy tourists ready to explore the mountains filled with excitement around every bend.
    The map said the hike generally took about six hours in total and the first stop was about an hour in and would have us standing at about 2,950 feet above sea level. The greatest perk was that it had a rocky outcrop that offered stunning views of the ocean and island. The small picture on the map was the perfect place to have our showdown. We both agreed that should be where we stopped and had something to eat.
    I convinced Shawna to lead the way, acquiescing to her stronger sense of adventure than what I possessed. She agreed with a vibrant smile and led the charge to the peak. Sure enough, almost an hour later on the nose, we exited the deep canopy of the rainforest and found ourselves in the brilliant sun, the view of the island and shimmering waters panoramic.
    “My God, ain’t this just the shit! Look Mandy, you can see the other side of the island from here!” Shawna gushed.
    I glanced up at my childhood friend, her giddiness real, not faked. A few strands of her thick, honey-colored hair escaped the messy bun on her head, the tendrils swaying in the breeze. Her lanky, five-foot-ten frame jumped up and down like a small child as she took in the surroundings. The smile on her face threw memories of our past in front of me, showering me with visions of our thirty-plus-year friendship. Weddings, funerals, birthdays, the prom, learning to drive, our first double date, our first rip-roaring drunk and hangover flashed by. The hours spent gabbing on the phone to each other. Our marathon conversations started out in our youth about dolls and clothes, finally graduating to guys, sex, college and children.
    Oh Jesus, I can’t do this.
    The images of the woman I practically considered my sister disappeared, replaced by the graves and Samuel standing over the freshly dug one, ready to dispose of me like yesterday’s trash--on the orders of his big sister.
    My lump subsided, and my resolve roared back. The stifling tropical air that permeated our earlier climb and weighed down my shields was blown away by the brisk trade winds.
    Yes, yes I can. And I will.
    My chest throbbed and I tried to mask the pain from my heaving ribs with a sweaty smile. I moved over toward the outcropping of giant boulders and set down my backpack.
    “This is simply Heaven. The air is the most intoxicating mix of scents that I have ever smelled. I wish I could bottle it. I’d make millions.”
    “Girl, you ain’t kidding! It sure is nice to be out of that creepy forest. I knew at any minute a jaguar was going pounce on us. I really didn’t like the idea of being a snack.”
    Shawna plopped her pack next to mine and started digging through it,