Springer Mountain Bride

It's worth walking four blocks for a fancy, overpriced cup of coffee just to get out of the office for a few minutes. Even the cold December wind blowing up Light Street off the harbor didn't deter me. I'd spent all morning and lunch at my desk staring at spreadsheets, trying to figure out how to cut two hundred forty-eight thousand, six hundred sixty-two dollars and thirty-eight cents out of the project budget.

The fact that I had the exact amount memorized told me just how badly I needed a caffeine break.

Trudging back to work, steaming cup in hand, I wondered if I ought to buy Christmas presents for my ex-wife's niece and nephew. It was the first Christmas after our divorce, so I wasn't really sure of the protocol. If I got them something, Aimee might say it was inappropriate. But if I didn't, she might say it was heartless. I was never certain which way she was going to come down on this sort of thing.

That's part of the reason we're not together anymore.

As I rode the elevator back up to the office, I decided I had to bite the bullet and just ask Aimee what she wanted me to do about Christmas presents. The choice between texting her and opening my spreadsheets back up made the decision a little more palatable. But only a little.

I had deleted two attempts at a message and was tapping out a third when my phone unexpectedly rang in my hand.

"Unknown Caller" popped up on the screen.

Normally, I'd dismiss it and let it go to voicemail, but this time I figured a few minutes with a robo-call would forestall two unpleasant tasks. I tapped "accept" and answered it.

"Hello?" I said, expecting the usual automated moment of delay but was surprised to hear an immediate response.

"Hi, um... Beer Haver?" the feminine voice asked cautiously.

'Beer Haver' is my trail name—a nickname I got saddled with back in college when I lugged a case of cheap beer along on my first wilderness backpacking trip. It's a name I associate with trees and fresh air and crisp nights around a campfire. Hearing it used now—as I sat in my fluorescent-lit, climate-controlled office on the eighth floor, looking out the window at downtown Baltimore—was kind of jarring. But I knew at once who the caller had to be.

"Springer Mountain Bride, is that you?" I asked, a broad smile spreading across my face.

"It's me," she replied brightly. "Guess where I am."

It had been late summer when our paths had crossed up on the Appalachian Trail. The ink was barely dry on my divorce papers and my buddy Will had taken me up to the mountains to decompress. She'd come down from Maine, through-hiking the whole damn Trail, heading south to Georgia.

"Well, it's been about three months, so I'm gonna say... Atlanta?" I replied.

"Close. I just finished. I'm standing on top of Springer Mountain." There was a definite note of triumph in her voice.

It was our second night out on the trail and Will and I had just started making dinner with some other hikers we'd met when Springer showed up at our campsite, looking for all the world like a steel trap ready to snap your hand off.

It took some prodding, but she eventually warmed up and joined the rest of us for dinner. Apparently, she and her fiancé—what was his name again?—had had a fight over something a couple of days earlier and it had gotten out of hand. He abandoned her in the middle of the night. Asshole.

She and whatshisname were supposed to get married at the end of the trip. That's how she'd picked up the trail name 'Springer Mountain Bride'. Kind of romantic, I guess. Rather than let him have the satisfaction of derailing her adventure, Springer had decided to press on without him, even though he'd taken half their gear.

Springer and I were just two people who needed someone at that moment and we found each other. It had been a rebound thing for both of us. I'd given her my phone number and asked her to keep in touch, but honestly, I never expected to hear from her again.

"Well congratulations! You made it the whole way. I'm really happy for you."

"Thanks... You wanted to know when I finished, so..." she continued, somewhat awkwardly.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm glad you called. That's got to be a really amazing feeling, doing something like that all by yourself."

"Yeah, I think I'm freaking out just a little. It's hard to believe it's actually over."

"I can imagine. How long did it take you?"

"Uh, six months, four days, and... if it's one-thirty now, call it six and half hours."

"Wow! I wish I had that kind of vacation time."

"Well, quit your job. Your schedule opens right up," she quipped.

"I will definitely keep that in mind. So... what's your next adventure?"

"I um, really don't... Well, I guess first I have to get down off this mountain," she laughed, "then fly back home and... find a job I guess."

"Aw, that's gonna be a rough transition."

"Yeah, um... Listen... there was one other thing I wanted to tell you, and I'm not really sure how to say it, so just... " she took a deep a breath. "...I'm pregnant, and it's yours, and I'm keeping it, and I know that's totally my fault because you wanted to be safe and I pushed you, and that's all on me, so if you want to hang up the phone and pretend like I never called and forget all about me, I get that and I'm ok with it. I won't call back and you'll--"

I was not prepared for that. But the news that I was going to be a father barely registered. All of the triumph and pride had gone out of her voice. All I could hear now was fear and anxiety.

"Springer--"

"--you'll never hear from me again. But if you want to be involved somehow, I'm ok with that too. I'm open to whatever kind of arrangements you want to work out, or, or no arrangements if that's what you want, because like I said, I know this isn't your fault and--"

I could practically see her, all alone on top of that windswept mountain. She was one of the most fiercely independent and self-reliant women I had ever met, but as she tried to let me off the hook, she just sounded so small and fragile.

"Springer--"

"--and I'm sure this is totally a shock and you probably need time to think and it wasn't fair to just drop it on you like this, so if you need to take some time and think, I get it, and I'm not going to rush you or try to guilt you into anything. You have my phone number now, so if you--"

She was supposed to be getting married today. She and whatshisname should have been together on top of that mountain surrounded by family and friends. But instead she was alone. Instead of a wedding she had, what? A one-night stand and a burden for life?

No, I couldn't let her bear that by herself.

"Springer!"

"...Y-yeah?" she finally let me break in.

"I can be in Atlanta in five hours. I'm already out the door, but I have to use my phone to book a flight. I'll text you as soon as I land, ok?"

"...Oh! Um, ok." There was a catch in her voice as she said it, and the call ended abruptly.

By the time my Uber dropped me at the airport, I had a QR code on my Delta Airlines app and a rental car waiting in Atlanta. My flight didn't leave for another hour so as I sat at the gate with a spreadsheet open on my laptop, I chopped a quarter of a million dollars out of the budget with a machete and emailed it out. It's amazing how a change in your priorities can simplify things.

Buckling into my middle seat, I ignored the safety briefing, and had a moment to breathe at last. I finally realized just what the fuck I had gotten myself into.

Kids are crazy expensive.

I quickly pulled down my latest financial statements before the plane took off, then waited impatiently for the plane to reach altitude. Much to the annoyance of my row-mates, I set up my laptop on the tray table and spent the better part of the two-hour flight crunching numbers.

Christmas presents for Aimee's family were pretty much out, no matter what she thought about it. In fact, all of my Christmas shopping was going to have to be scaled back. I was on track to have my student loans paid off in the next two years. Not anymore. My retirement contributions and mortgage payments were higher than they strictly needed to be. I'd have to dial those back to the minimum.

But none of that really mattered. The last time the market took a hit, I grieved for the drop in my 401K. Now, watching the projections curve downward as I diverted money into parenting expenses was almost exhilarating.

As the plane drew closer to Georgia, I realized that it wasn't the idea of being a father that had my heart beating faster... it was the thought of seeing Springer again.

{Just landed in ATL} I sent to her number as the plane taxied to the terminal.

A moment later I received
{Checking into hotel now}
{MUST shower}
{Give me 2 hours}

{Dinner?}

{OK} followed by the address of a hotel near the airport.

After picking up my rental car, I found a Walmart nearby and killed some time buying a change of socks and underwear as well as a couple of other sundries. Whatever happened, I figured there was a better than even chance I wouldn't be flying home tonight.

It wasn't far from there to the hotel, so after two hours I sent another text to let her know I was waiting down in the lobby, but to take her time.

When she walked in I recognized her immediately, even though she didn't look quite like I remembered.

The last time I'd seen her we'd both been grimy, disheveled, and worn from days on the trail in the late summer heat. Now, she still had a lean, careworn look but she was fresh-scrubbed and clean with her hair brushed out loose. There was no doubt it was her—the scruffy hiking boots were a dead giveaway.

"Springer," I called, standing up. She looked my way and her eyes lit up with her smile.

"Hey, you," she replied, recognizing me. I offered my hand but she went for hug, and we jockeyed awkwardly for a moment before sharing a platonic embrace.

"You shaved," she observed, stepping back.

"Yeah, most days," I answered, rubbing my chin. "Your hair is longer."

"Haven't been to a salon since May," she shrugged, brushing a stray lock from her face.

"Congratulations, again," I offered awkwardly. "Two-thousand miles by yourself, that's... really something."

"Thanks... You really didn't have to come all this way, but... I'm glad you're here."

"It seemed like a face-to-face kind of conversation," I shrugged. "Oh, uh, here, this... this is for you." I got a quizzical look as she took the pink and blue gift bag I offered. "Flowers seemed kind of impractical, so..."

Reading the label on the bottle she pulled from the bag, a grin spread across her face. "Prenatal vitamins," she laughed, "Nice."

"I know that freeze-dried trail food doesn't have a lot of folic acid, so... thought you might need to catch up."

"Very thoughtful," she conceded.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" I ventured.

"Well, I'm standing here with a belly full of your DNA, so... I'd say personal questions are on the table, yeah."

"What is your name?"

She blushed and looked down at the floor. I was relieved to see that she was just as embarrassed as I was to have been so reckless with an essentially anonymous stranger. Brushing that lock of hair out her face again she smiled and answered "It's Molly. Molly Williams."

"Molly," I repeated. "Glad to meet you. I'm Chris Novak. Christian actually, but Chris... Chris is good."

After weeks of living off boiling water added to foil pouches of freeze-dried food, Molly had been craving "Lasagna. Real lasagna, baked in an oven with layers of pasta and fresh meat and tomato sauce. Oh, and gooey melted cheese..." Since she didn't feel like she was dressed for anything nicer, we settled on a chain Italian place for dinner.

There was the customary small talk on the drive over and as we waited on the server. We toasted the end of her trip with cloyingly sweet iced tea. The whole thing would have had a very first-date kind of feel to it, if it wasn't for the elephant in her womb.

"So..." I started as our waitress walked away to put in our orders. I don't know what changed in my demeanor or my expression, but she picked up on it and immediately blurted "Don't!"

"Don't... ask me to marry you... if that's what you wanted to say face-to-face."

"...No," I assured her, a bit taken aback, "No, I... I wasn't going to. I mean, not so soon anyway."

"I'm sorry, that must have sounded terrible," she blushed, withdrawing into herself. "It's just that... after Bryan... I'm just not ready to... to do that again."

Bryan. That was the asshole fiancé's name.

"I get that... It's ok. I was just going to ask if you've made any plans or decisions yet."

Molly took a breath.

"I want to keep the baby," she answered, "but to be honest, I've been trying not to think about it. I mean, I've been thinking about it—when you're plodding along the Trail all day, your brain just goes there, y'know? But I've been trying not to..."

She sighed and collected her thoughts.

"When I was late, I figured it was poor nutrition or dehydration or something. And I told myself the nausea was just a stomach bug. I didn't know for sure I was pregnant until about two weeks ago. By then, I was so close to the end... God, you must think I'm the most selfish person in the world." She slumped forward on the table, burying her face in her hands.

"I think you were focused on a goal and just... tuned out the distractions," I tried to reassure her.

"That's nice of you to say, Chris," she replied looking up at me, "but if something goes wrong because I was in denial... that's my fault."

"Hey, don't beat yourself up about something that hasn't happened yet. Nothing is going to go wrong."

"You can't know that," she retorted gently.

"...Fair enough. What can I do to help?"

"You're not going to try to talk me out of keeping it?" she asked, giving me a sidelong look.

"Did you want me to?"

"Honestly, once you said you weren't here to propose, I figured that was the only other reason you'd come all this way," she admitted. It stung a little. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you're here... But why are you here?"

I leaned forward on my elbows with a sigh. "Look, three months ago, I met a woman who sparked my imagination in a way no one has in a long time. She was strong and confident and at the same time kind of lost and kind of vulnerable. She didn't just talk about doing incredible things, she actually went out and did them—by herself if she had to. And frankly, the night we spent together was... I mean damn!" Words failed me.

She smiled and blushed and rolled her eyes.

"And then she just... left. She walked out of my life as easily as she'd walked into it. I think I'm here because I got a second chance, and I don't want to let her just walk away again. Back in Maryland, we seemed to click. Maybe I'm wrong, but I thought there was some chemistry there."

"You're... not wrong," she admitted. "But Chris, we're both old enough to know that's not always enough. And to be honest, I don't think I'm ready for another relationship so soon."

"Yeah, and I'm probably not either. But we've got this kid on the way now and that seems like a good reason to at least try and... see if maybe there can be something between us."

She studied me for a moment and I did my best to look sincere. Then her expression softened and she put her hands on mine.

"You're sweet, Chris," she shook her head contritely. "But you only know the broken girl who needed to get laid out in the woods. I'm not really that person."

"No, I know that... I get that... I want to know who that girl from the woods really is."

Molly sighed and looked at me for another moment.

"You're asking me to what? Be your girlfriend?"

"I guess I am," I laughed. "You weren't planning to get back together with Bryan, were you?"

"No!" she scowled.

"Met anyone else in the last three months you'd rather be with?"

"Not really."

"So?"

She touched her finger to her lips and considered for a moment. "You should know I've fucked up every relationship I've ever been in."

That wasn't actually surprising. "I have too. Everybody does, until the last one," I assured her. "I'll take my chances."

As we ate, we discussed more practical matters. Professionally, Molly's a graphic artist. After college, she'd worked a variety of part-time retail jobs—high-end boutiques and specialty stores mostly—while building a client list and a reputation as a freelancer. She didn't think she could support a family on freelance work though, so she was going to look for her first nine-to-five. I offered to help with money, and she accepted but--

"I need to get my life together and stand on my own, first," she insisted.

So no financial support from me until the baby arrived. She did agree to let me put her on my health insurance, which was much more flexible than her own.

When Bryan left her, she'd arranged to move back in with her parents in Ohio after she finished the Trail. They didn't know about the baby yet. She was resigned to living at home until she could arrange a place of her own, but she wasn't looking forward to it.

"Do you have any friends you can stay with?" I asked.

"Ermm," she grimaced "All of my friends are Bryan's friends too. I'm not saying they'd all take his side, but... he's been home for three months and by now they've all heard his side of the story. I could probably crash on someone's couch for a few weeks, but it's the holidays... and given the circumstances..." She gestured at her belly.

"Yeah, that's a big ask. What about brothers or sisters?"

"Nope. Only child, spoiled rotten... Sorry," she replied giving me a sympathetic shrug. "How 'bout you?"

"I'm the fifth of eight," I told her, and her eyes went wide. "Catholic," I shrugged. "Relax. Mom and Dad were devout; I'm just one of those Christmas-and-Easter Catholics."

I offered to relocate to be closer to her and the baby, but we put that idea on hold. She didn't want to stay in her parent's home town and she didn't know where she'd end up, so she didn't want me to disrupt my life just yet. Besides, my insurance was through my job.

"I guess this is going to have to be a long-distance thing for now, huh?"

"It wasn't even a thing twelve hours ago."

"See? That's progress."

The waitress took our plates and we ordered dessert and then more iced tea.

"God, I want a beer," Molly muttered as a tray of bottles passed us. "I haven't had a decent beer since Virginia."

"You know, they say it's ok to have an occasional drink."

She winced. "I've neglected the baby for too long. I don't want to take any chances until a doctor tells me everything's ok. Don't let me stop you though."

"Nah, that seems kind of cruel," I declined. "You should have been drinking champagne tonight."

"Yeah," she agreed, a little sadly I thought.

We talked about a lot of options over iced tea, a lot of paths we could take. But we didn't really make many decisions. There was still time for that. One thing was crystal clear, even though she never said so in as many words. She was preparing for me to walk away. Any help I offered had to be superfluous. She wanted to be able to raise our baby on her own, even if she didn't have to.

Bryan's betrayal must have left scars.

We sat at that table talking for hours as the restaurant crowd faded away. Our waitress had asked several times if we were ready for the check until she finally just set it down on the table with a glare. We got the message. I reached for the faux leather folder but Molly slapped a hand down on it first.

"C'mon, let me buy you a celebration dinner," I objected.

"You're already out two plane tickets and a rental car. I'm buying dinner," she retorted.

"You don't have job," I argued.