The Trail Crew – Part 2: Lake Water

"Yes," said Callum, turning. "I do."

The kiss was warm and earnest. Idris's hand cradled his jaw, calloused and gentle, and tasted of woodsmoke and cold air. Callum laughed against his mouth, slid his arms round his neck and held on. The lake lapped at the stones. High above them the first stars appeared.

"I should say," said Idris, "that this is not what I expected from the summer."

"What did you expect?"

"Ditches."

"We've dug a lot of ditches."

"We have." Idris smiled. "I'd like to dig a lot more of them with you."

They swam in the lake because Callum dared him to, shrieking at the cold, then wrapped themselves in a blanket on the warm slab of rock at the water's edge. Idris built a tiny fire. Wood smoke and steam rose together. They sat shoulder to shoulder, watching the sky go violet and the mountains turn to black paper cut-outs.

"Are you cold?" asked Idris.

"A little."

"My tent has two sleeping bags and a zip."

"Is that a proposal?"

"It's an offer. You can say no."

"I'm not going to say no," said Callum.

The tent was small and warm. They zipped the bags together, laughed at the noise, and lay in the dark with the sounds of the camp drifting far off, a card game, a distant laugh, a loon on the lake. Their love-making was unhurried and kind, two tired bodies learning each other's rhythm, with canvas whispering overhead and the stars wheeling through the vent. At the end Callum fell asleep with his head on Idris's shoulder, smelling of pine and lake.

On the last day of the season they finished the final switchback. They stood on the new trail, tired and sunburned, looking down at the long ribbon of path winding back to the lake.

"It'll hold," said Idris.

"A hundred years."

"Longer." He took Callum's hand. "Come back next year. I need a good second."

"I'll come back for the ditches," said Callum, grinning. "And for the crew leader."

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