That meant she’d been there for four days. She’d paid for one day when she arrived.
Ellis kept the knife in her hand just in case. She unzipped the opening enough for them to see each other. He was a tall, dark-eyed man in his late twenties, wearing full ranger gear.
“I’m sorry about that,” she said. “I’ll pay. I wasn’t trying to pull anything.”
The man nodded. “I’m relieved to see you’re okay. When I first walked up here and no one answered, I was afraid . . . well, you can imagine. Very few people camp here in winter.”
Ellis loved that about winter camping. She’d taught herself how to do it when she’d started driving up to the Adirondacks, and she’d taken Jonah when they were dating. Cold camping with a lover was the best. Snuggling under warm blankets while the snow fell outside. The soft walls and warm interior felt like a tiny world born of their two bodies. To make love in a tent in winter felt deliciously primal.
The man wasn’t leaving. She slipped on her coat and boots, unzipped the tent door, and clambered into the cold gray morning. She put up her hood to hide her snarl of hair.
The man scrutinized her. She must have looked bad because he appeared concerned. At least that was how she interpreted his gaze.
“Do you need me to pay for the campsite right now—before you leave?”
“No. I’ll check the box later today.”
“I’m heading out soon. I’ll put it in when I leave.”
“Sounds good,” he said.
He walked toward his truck, turning around halfway. “Would you like a cup of hot coffee? I have a big thermos in here.”
“Oh . . . no, but thank you.”
“Have some. I promise the cup is clean.” He walked away briskly before she could decline again.
She suspected he wanted to make sure she was okay. Maybe it was part of his training: A winter camper alone could be a bad sign. Could be running from the police. Maybe suicidal. Keep your eye on them.
“Sugar?” he called out.
Why not accept the coffee? She was dying for a cup. And if he needed to do his good deed for the day, she wouldn’t filch his halo.
She replied, “Yes,” to the sugar and walked toward him.
“Over there,” he said, gesturing at the picnic table in her campsite.
She dusted an inch of snow off the table with her bare hands, and he set down the thermos and two cups. He handed her a few packets of sugar from his pocket.
“Thanks,” Ellis said.
She stirred the sugar in with her finger, and he smiled. She dusted more snow off the table and sat on top with her boots resting on the snowy bench. She wrapped her wet hands around the warm cup, thawing their stiffness.
The ranger sat next to her. “I see you’re from New York,” he said, looking at the plates on her SUV.
“Yes.”
He sipped his coffee, waiting for her to say more. “Just passing through Ohio?”
“I am.”
They drank in silence for a minute.
He faced her. “I don’t mean to pry, but is everything okay? I never saw a woman stay here for four days in winter.” He added, “Alone, I mean.”
“You usually get groups of women in winter? They come here for a really entertaining ladies’ night?”
He smiled. “No.”
He seemed like a nice guy. She should go easy on him. Give him something to allay his fears.
“I didn’t mean to stay for four days. I came to Ohio to visit two family graves. After the first one . . . I guess I needed some downtime. Before I go to the next.”
Next was her mother, a few towns over.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She nodded and huddled over her coffee.
“It’s interesting you camp instead of stay in hotels when you’re doing that.”
He probably thought it odd that a person would stay there when they had enough money to own a fancy new SUV and nice tent. Ellis had purchased her camping equipment with gifts of money from her grandfather throughout college. She had some quality gear she’d gotten on sale. She wondered if the ranger would have offered coffee if she had a crap tent and beater car.
“I don’t like hotels,” she said. “I prefer the woods.”
“I guess I can see that. But be careful. Sometimes we get some odd ones in campgrounds.”
“There are odd ones everywhere.”
“I know. But here you’re completely alone.”
She’d heard these warnings since she started camping alone during her college years. Her first roommate fretted and lectured every time Ellis disappeared from the dormitory for the weekend. But Ellis had to get outside and away from people sometimes. She’d needed that since the Wild Wood. During the years she lived with her grandfather, she’d gone to a nearby park to get her green fix.
She slid off the table and handed the empty cup to the ranger.
He smiled at her. “You look more awake now.”
“I am. It was good coffee.”
“I grind the beans fresh every morning.” He held out his gloved hand. “I’m Keith Gephardt.”
She shook his hand and said, “Nice to meet you,” but didn’t give her name.
He got the message. “I’d better get going.”
He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and took out a card. “Here’s my cell number,” he said. “Maybe if you need to talk after that second grave.”
She tried to think what to say. It had been a long time since a man had given her his number. And she didn’t know what it meant in such strange circumstances. Was he offering her his number as a park authority who was worried about her or as a man who wanted to have a drink with her?
She felt like she’d been looking into his eyes for too long. Not because his brown irises were beautifully colored or anything like that, but because they had to be the warmest eyes she’d ever seen.
She looked away and took the card.
“You stay safe now.” He walked
