The old man took a booth near the back of the truck stop and looked out the window toward the setting sun. His clothes, though of the finest cloth, were too large. The man looked tired and deep in thought, but glanced at each customer that came through the door and tipped an imaginary hat if their eyes met. His demeanor did not change until a man slightly younger wearing frayed overalls entered the busy cafe and scanned the room.
"Over here, Jim." He raised his hand just far enough to be noticed.
The newcomer's face lit up as he made his way back to sit across from the old gentleman.
"I almost didn't recognize you, Bradley," the younger man said. "Have you lost weight?"
"I haven't been well, Jim. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to make it this year."
"Well, I'm glad you came. Are you sure you are up to the same deal? I mean, roughing it in that cabin can be pretty demanding."
"As a matter of fact, Jim. I'm not sure." Bradley looked earnest. "But I knew we needed to talk, so I had to keep our date."
"Sure, Bradley." Jim took a menu from behind the napkin dispenser. "We've got all the time in the world."
It was an odd friendship that began in a most unusual way in this very restaurant fifteen years ago. They had been strangers then, thrown together by chance during a heavy thunderstorm. Visibility on the interstate had been nearly zero, and the place had been crowded with travelers who had chosen to wait out the storm. The two men had shared a table to make room for a family who were waiting to be seated.
Bradley was the CEO of a global corporation and Jim worked by the hour as a carpenter for a construction company. They did have several things in common that day, however. Both were bachelors who felt alone in the world, both were taking a few days off to get away from the pressures of their job, and both were unhappy.
"So where you going?" Bradley had asked the younger man after they introduced themselves and were past the "what do you do" questions.
"I got an old cabin in the mountains my father left me. It's a shack really, but it's a place to get away, to fish and hunt if I want. The place is rugged -- no phone, no running water, an outdoor john and ten miles of bad road to get there. Granted, it ain't much, but there's no rent and it's the only vacation I can afford."
"Away from civilization. Sounds like heaven to me." Bradley added, "I used to love nature when I was little. I guess I haven't been to the woods since my Cub Scout days."
Jim's eyes brightened. "Hey, I was a Scout, too - all the way to Eagle Scout, if you can believe it. I guess maybe those were the happiest days of my life. Then life sort of took a turn when my father died. He was the scout master -- my best friend, too. The cabin is just about all that's left of that life. So a couple times a year I go up there and sort of touch base with nature again.
That's the kind of place I should be going to instead of a hotel. Someplace different. I hate hotels and room service, so here I am headed for one just to get away from the phone."
"Never been one for fancy stuff, myself," Jim said. "Only seen room service in movies. Wouldn't know how to act in one of them fine hotels."
"You get tired of people fawning all over you. I get that at work all day - there's not a real person among them. A person can forget what's genuine -- maybe even what they are made of, you know? But when I need to get away, it's easy to tell my secretary to book me a week out of town. She's not supposed to tell anyone where I am, but someone always seems to find me before the week is up."
"Ain't nobody looking for me, that's for sure. Since my folks died, I could disappear up there on that mountain, and no one would miss me."
They had lingered over their meal while the freak storm went on for three hours. As strangers sometimes do, they talked with uncommon frankness about their lives. By the time the rain let up, Jim had invited Bradley to join him at the old cabin for the week and the older man had accepted.
The unlikely friends had become important to one another since that chance meeting. Although they rarely spoke during the rest of the year, the week at the cabin became an annual event to which both men looked forward. During that short period in the woods away from his life of privilege, Bradley grounded himself again. There were no secretaries to do his bidding, no board meetings and subordinates courting his favor; no restaurants and thermostats, no voice mail and appointment books. Life was basic. Under Jim's tutelage Bradley learned to chop wood, build a campfire without matches, catch and clean his own dinner, and then cook it over a wood fire. He always went home feeling like he had tested himself and been reminded of what it meant to be a man. He came to love the crisp mountain mornings and watching the sun set over the valley with the only friend he had who did not have an axe to grind.
Jim enjoyed it perhaps more than Bradley did. All year he worked beside men he barely knew. They had families and lives of their own that did not include a lonely bachelor. That week on the mountain with Bradley filled a vacuum in his life. It was a simple matter: for those seven days Jim had someone who enjoyed being with him. It wasn't enough for a man, but a week was better than nothing, and before Bradley came along, Jim had no one.
"Ever think about becoming a Boy Scout leader like your dad, Jim?" Bradley asked as the waitress set two plates in front of the men.
"Funny you should ask that," Jim answered. "Some material about Scouting came just last week." He looked at his friend through squinting eyes. "Were you behind that? I thought it was odd after all these years."
"Odd? You were an Eagle Scout, weren't you? Seems to me they'd be looking for men like you for leadership roles." Bradley raised his eyebrows. "So the idea interested you, did it?"
"Got to admit, it did," Jim said, stirring sugar into his cup of coffee. "But I'm not sure I have much to offer them."
"Seems to me you have a lot to offer. Besides, Jim, it would get you involved in other people's lives again."
"Never thought about being a Scout leader before," Jim smiled at his friend. "Might be nice."
Bradley pushed the eggs around his plate and finally laid the fork down, then said with a wink, "Just planting an idea."
"I'll give it some thought." Jim spread some jelly on his toast and took a bite.
"Will there be anything else," the waitress said a few minutes later as she searched her receipt book for their ticket.
Bradley looked at the younger man then smiled at the waitress and shook his head. "I guess not, thank you."
"So what do you think about our week at the cabin, Bradley?" Jim said as he finished his coffee, noticing that his friend had barely touched his meal. "Do you feel up to it this year?"
"You'll have to do the work, Jim. But I'd like to spend the week with you if you don't mind playing nurse part of the time."
Jim frowned, "Is it that bad, Bradley? You've been to the doctor, I guess?"
"Yes." He looked square into the younger man's eyes. "I'm dying, Jim. This is going to be my last time at the cabin."
"Dying?" Jim was dumbfounded. He closed his eyes and shook his head slowly in quiet protest. "No - no." He looked back at his friend with a wounded expression. "You can't be."
"It's true, Jim. I don't like it either."
There were few questions and fewer answers as the men made the last trip to the mountain together. Jim thought about the implications of Bradley's news as he drove the truck up into the foothills. Once in a while he glanced at his friend who was absorbing the wildness of the mountain landscape with an intensity that was touching.
"There's a place I want you to see up that road, Jim," Bradley said, pointing up a gravel side road about half way up the mountain. "It wasn't there last year and I want to see how it's coming along."
Jim was surprised with the request, but there was no question that he would take him there. He would have taken Bradley anywhere. "What kind of place is it? I never heard about anything new up there."
"It's sort of a secret project," Bradley smiled and looked at his friend. You know me. I always have my ear to the ground."
Three miles up the steep mountain road Jim saw a site under construction. Workmen were almost finished with a lodge-sized building nestled in among the tall pines. There were foundations for several smaller buildings around the perimeter. They parked and the two men got out and walked around before Bradley became winded and had to sit.
"It's going to be a camp, Jim." He pointed to a clearing. We're going to build a few cabins around the edge, there near those trees, and some over on the other side. What do you think? It could be a place scouts come, or families, or whoever wants to spend some time learning about the woods - and themselves. The place won't ever pay for itself, but I have no family to leave my money to, anyway."
"So this is yours, Bradley?" Jim shook his head in wonder. "How have you stayed on top of something like this -- with your health failing?"
"It's been hard. The only time I've been up here was when I bought the place eight months ago. The construction boss is a good man, but he doesn't see the whole picture. I was hoping you would help me out. You know this mountain, and you know construction and a lot more. Seems to me you are the man to pitch hit for me until it's finished, and beyond if you are of a mind to."
Jim shook his head in disbelief. "You want me to take over for you?" Jim asked.
"I don't know a better man."
The men spent an hour at the site, discussing the structures and talking about the kind of camp it might evolve into. Jim agreed to oversee the project for Bradley on weekends; then the old man introduced Jim to the construction crew as his representative.
Their week at the cabin was difficult, and wonderful, too. Bradley was too weak to work and was forced to remain inside. Jim stayed with him as much as he could, going out only to keep wood for the fireplace and food on the table. At night they sat before the fire and talked, each aware that their time together was drawing to an end.
When the week was over, one of Bradley's employees was waiting at the truck stop to drive him home. The men shook hands as they parted, knowing it would be the last time.
"We'll be keeping in touch, Jim," Bradley said. "You're my man on the mountain now."
And they did. Jim called him weekly over the next four months as construction progressed. Bradley never seemed to have much to say about the project, though. His interest in life was fading as his life ebbed away.
When word came of Bradley's death, Jim learned that the old man had left him, not only the lodge and the whole side of the mountain surrounding it, but a sizable amount of cash, amounting to well over fifteen million dollars. He also left him a letter.
To my friend, Jim.
Maybe you guessed that I planned to leave the camp to you. I suspect you did, but I'm glad you didn't try to dissuade me. I think you know how important our times on the mountain have been to me. I've wanted to thank you in the only way I know how: by attempting to fill a gap in your life that our weeks at the cabin only partially filled. I'm not talking about the money; we both know that only people can satisfy that need. You will forgive an old man the arrogance of thinking I know what is best for you. It is my hope that you establish the camp on the mountain we talked about. The Boy Scouts of America are anxious to work with you and are excited about the possibilities. They will be contacting you again soon. Of course, you can just live up there like a hermit if it suits your fancy. Or you can sell the place if I've guessed wrong. Either way, I've arranged for a staff to keep up the place when you are not there. You can dismiss them, replace them or keep them -- whatever you decide. You'll have enough to do whatever you want to when I'm gone. You don't have to be alone, Jim.
Remember some of those boy scouts have single moms.
The End