Secrets & Seductions by Pamela Toth Page A

altogether.
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    Morgan set a steady pace that Emma had no trouble maintaining as she followed him through the trees that afternoon. The silence around them was calming; even their footsteps were muffled by the bed of needles that cushioned the path.
    â€œYou could be a professional guide,” she said after he had pointed out a maidenhair fern with a thin black stem that looked like wire and frothy green leaves. “Is there anything you don’t know about this area?”
    â€œI’m far from an expert,” he replied, stopping to take a swig from his water bottle. He tipped back his head, his throat muscles rippling as he swallowed.
    Emma could have watched him all day, but instead she tore her gaze away before he noticed her gawking like a groupie.
    â€œWhat’s that?” she asked, spotting a small white flower sticking up from the needles. Its nearly translucent petals looked as though they had been carved from wax. “Is it real?”
    â€œThat’s Indian pipe.” He squatted down by the odd little specimen that grew next to a fallen log. His thigh muscles bulged. “Also called ice plant, ghost plant. Its official name is Monotropa uniflora. ”
    â€œSee what I mean?” she said with a laugh as she, too, bent down for a closer look. “I’m impressed, Mr. Davis. You’re a walking encyclopedia.”
    The odd little plant was pure white, but a few nearby stalks had shriveled and turned black.
    â€œBlame it on five years of dealing with kids and their inquisitive minds,” Morgan drawled as he straightened back up and adjusted his pack. “Ready to move on?”
    As they walked, their footsteps were nearly silent. The bright sunlight was filtered by the canopy of treetops far overhead, making the temperature pleasantly cool. The trunks of the fir trees were remarkably straight, the bark gray and rough.
    Green moss, some of it as shaggy as a feather boa, covered the northern sides of the trees and scattered boulders. Growing through the moss was a type of fungus that looked like shelves, some gray and a smaller kind in a vibrant shade of orange.
    Several varieties of ferns were scattered around in clumps, as were Oregon grape bushes with their inedible berries. Various sizes and shapes of toadstools sprouted around the fallen, rotting logs.
    Eventually the trees began to thin out and the light was brighter. Sparse patches of grass appeared and the air became warmer.
    Taking several breaks, they walked at an easy pace for nearly three hours. Most of it was up agradual but steady incline. Ahead of them, the path curved around the base of a huge cedar tree and then disappeared over the next rise.
    â€œAre you doing okay?” Morgan asked after he’d stopped to drink some water.
    â€œI’m fine.” Emma wouldn’t have complained if her feet were falling off, but she hoped their destination was near. Her pack was getting heavy and she had been too excited to eat much lunch. Her stomach was starting to growl.
    The trail widened, allowing them to walk side by side as they approached a small structure. Its sharply slanted roof was covered with moss and fir needles, its wood siding weathered to a pewter color.
    â€œHere’s the Hilton,” Morgan quipped as they walked by. “Not that we’ll be spending the night.”
    Emma hardly glanced at the building.
    â€œOh,” she gasped softly as she cleared the top of the hill. Spread out before them was the meadow he had told her about. It was carpeted with grass and wildflowers. At the center of the clearing was a small sapphire-blue body of water.
    â€œThat’s Johnson Lake,” Morgan said as he stood beside her. “Pretty, isn’t it?”
    The lake and meadow were surrounded by tree-covered mountains. Towering in the distance was a row of bare, jagged peaks that appeared to be hewn from solid granite.
    â€œI had no idea what it would feel like to be soclose to