Part 6 – “The Trailhead Again”
Bryson City, North Carolina – November 1, 2009 – Late Afternoon
Howard Gleeson hadn’t stood inside his workshop in over a decade.
Not since the last time someone knocked at his door, asking if he could still draw maps “the old-fashioned way.” He’d told them no, told them his hands weren’t steady anymore. But the truth was, it wasn’t his hands that had failed. It was his heart.
But now… Scout had led him back here.
The shop smelled of cedar and dust and dried ink. Sunlight filtered in through the wavy glass windows. His drafting table still sat near the back, tilted slightly, as if waiting for his weight. Cobwebs hung from the corners. Old topo maps curled along the wall, edges brown with age.
Scout padded in ahead of him, nose low to the floor, tail wagging slow and easy. He sniffed the corners, then lay down exactly where Lena used to sit on a pillow while she watched him work.
Howard stood in the doorway for a long time, hat in hand. Then he stepped forward, the boards groaning beneath his feet.
On the table sat a small wooden box. He hadn’t touched it since 1995.
He opened it now.
Inside were Lena’s things: her compass, the smaller one she carried clipped to her boot; a worn bandana she’d insisted on wearing even in summer; a crumpled napkin with a sketch of a tree and the words “Look for me in the tall ones.”
Howard traced the ink with one trembling finger.
Scout gave a soft, low whine from the floor.
“She’d have liked you,” Howard said without looking. “You would’ve been her kind of dog. Smart. Loyal. A little too stubborn.”
Scout sneezed once in response.
Howard chuckled. It was the first laugh that hadn’t hurt.
That evening, Theo and Liam pulled up in Theo’s rust-speckled Jeep. Howard had invited them. Didn’t quite remember doing it—maybe it slipped out when they said goodbye at the hospital—but he hadn’t regretted it since.
Liam leapt from the passenger seat before the engine stopped, Scout sprinting down the porch steps to greet him.
“Whoa!” Liam laughed as the dog tackled him gently in the yard. “Hey, buddy!”
Theo stepped out slower, a paper grocery bag under one arm.
“Hope you don’t mind,” he said. “We brought soup. And cornbread. Liam said it was your favorite.”
Howard nodded. “It was Lena’s, too.”
Theo’s expression softened. “I didn’t realize this place would feel… familiar. My sister brought Liam here a few times. Said you made the best maps in western North Carolina.”
Howard’s voice caught. “She came here?”
Theo nodded. “Long time ago. Maybe 2001. She was quiet, but she loved the woods. Said your daughter reminded her of someone she used to know.”
Howard stared into the trees beyond the driveway. The same woods Lena vanished into. The same woods Liam walked out of, thanks to a dog and a set of maps that didn’t belong to this world entirely.
He gestured to the porch. “Let’s eat.”
They sat outside, bowls warm in their hands, a chill in the air that made every bite feel like comfort.
Liam had brought his maps again—now encased in plastic sleeves Theo bought from a hardware store. He spread them across the table with reverence.
“I added notes,” he said. “Like elevations and symbols.”
Howard leaned in. “Show me.”
Liam pointed to a trail labeled Sassafras Loop. “This one curves up here,” he traced with a finger, “but there’s a shortcut through a streambed. The rocks are slippery, but I marked it.”
Howard nodded slowly. “That’s good. You’re reading the land, not just tracing it.”
“I wanna learn how to do it right,” Liam said. “Like you.”
Howard felt something crack open—not painfully, but cleanly, like ice giving way to spring water.
“I’ll teach you,” he said. “If you’re serious.”
Liam beamed. “I’m serious.”
Scout lay between them, tail sweeping the porch slowly.
Theo smiled from his chair, sipping from a mason jar. “He’s been sleeping with those maps under his pillow. Thinks they’re magic.”
Howard looked out at the gathering dusk.
“Maybe they are,” he said. “Maps don’t just tell you where you are. They show you where you’ve been. Where you lost something. And maybe—if you’re lucky—where you can begin again.”
Theo said nothing for a long time.
Then he leaned forward.
“I know it’s not my place,” he said, “but that night Liam said he saw a girl. Gave her name later—Lena. Same name you said was your daughter’s.”
Howard stared into the fading light. “Yes.”
“Do you believe it?” Theo asked. “I mean… really believe it?”
Howard’s eyes filled but didn’t spill.
“I believe some trails don’t end when we think they do. I believe that boy walked through more than woods. And I believe Scout wasn’t the only guide out there.”
Liam listened quietly. Then whispered, “She told me I’d be okay.”
Howard reached over and placed a hand on Liam’s.
“You were.”
When they left, Scout didn’t follow them to the Jeep.
He stayed beside Howard.
Watched the taillights disappear down the gravel road.
Then padded back to the porch and sat beside the door, as if he’d always lived there.
Howard opened the door wide.
“Well then,” he said. “Welcome home, Scout.”
The dog stepped inside.
And Howard Gleeson, for the first time in fifteen years, sat back at his drafting table. Pulled out a fresh sheet of paper.
And began to draw.
