Chapter 3 A Leisurely Loverly Saturday

The next morning Booth awakened first and had a chance to indulge in his second favorite early morning pastime: watching his wife sleep, her face relaxed, little breaths of air disturbing an errant curl too near her nose, a tiny smile playing across her lips as she dreamed something sweet, and likely sexy, he thought to himself. His most favorite morning activity was, of course, making love to said beautiful wife.

But their hike had been strenuous yesterday, as his own shoulders and feet were reminding him; and he thought it best to let her sleep. It wasn't long, however, before she stirred and opened her eyes.

"You know I can feel you watching me, Booth. It nearly always wakes me up," she said as she raised up on one elbow to kiss him. "It is propitious that we retired earlier than usual. This is an interesting area; I'd like to do some shopping back in Middletown before we head back, and possibly drive around Boonesboro. It's a very historic little town, founded by some of Daniel Boone's cousins."

So they smooched and cuddled a bit, and indulged in each other's bodies; reveling in the fact that they didn't need to keep one ear peeled for the thump of little feet or the soft creak of their bedroom door as Christine turned the knob ever so carefully to peer in and see if her parents were awake. Their campsite was secluded enough that other campers and they were oblivious to one another's pre-dawn activities. The total isolation of their temporary home was indeed a luxury parents seldom enjoyed.

They unzipped the tent entrance flap and walked arm in arm to the nearby overlook to watch sunrise. By 7:30 they had dressed, munched some fruit, deflated, rolled, and compressed their very comfortable bedding, collapsed the tent, and stowed it all in Booth's pack. After Brennan repacked their clothing, she pulled the rolled socks from their hiking boots, inverted the footwear and thumped them soundly to check for insects playing hide and seek.

Booth flexed his feet, tugged on clean socks, and slid on his shoes before securing the laces around their grommets and tying them twice. "That camping sleep system you bought me for Christmas felt heavenly. I'm sure it cost a bundle, but it's worth every penny. You really pamper me, Bones."

"You deserve to be comfortable, Agent Booth," she smiled, wriggling into one shoe and then the other, steadying herself with one hand on his muscular shoulder; then rising on her tiptoes to hug him. In high heels she was nearly his height, but several inches shorter in flat shoes. They took one last look out across the fog-laden valley from Booth's thinking spot, shouldered their packs, walked into the next clearing, stashed the tent back into the rangers' storage locker, and hiked back down South Mountain by a slightly different route to view the sun-dappled spots and shadier glens as the morning sun burned off the fog.

"I can't believe we lucked out with such mild temperatures mid-February," Booth remarked.

"The weather played nice just for your romantic surprise getaway plans, huh?" Brennan asked. "You are aware that factors affecting our seasonal climate are completely inanimate, right?"

"Okay, Mrs. Scientist…of course I know that….Stop teasing me or you won't get any future mystery trips with me!" Booth retorted as they descended the last few meters of the rocky pathway into a wide open field. Farmers were setting out their wooden crates of produce and artisan wares arranged on ancient scuffed-up folding tables.

As they wandered through the aisles of fresh fruits and vegetables of the farmers' market, Booth leaned over and told her, "Being here with you is so much better than doing this alone, waiting for my chance to get your next burner phone from Harland or his brothers every Saturday that summer you were gone with Christine."
Brennan gripped his hand tightly and nodded, words momentarily stuck behind the lump in her throat.
"I agree. That was the longest three months of my life, Booth."

They selected a handcrafted bracelet of polished river stones for Angela, several packets each of heirloom flower and vegetable seeds for Hodgins, and a hand-sewn cloth rag doll for Christine. A woman and her daughter were selling fragrant yeasty-buttery cinnamon rolls and steaming coffee, which the pair bought and ate for breakfast as they browsed.
This market was spread out in tents across a meadow adjacent to the ranger station parking lot where they'd left the SUV. Stopping by the office to leave the tent locker key, the couple left their thanks for Booth's ranger friend, loaded their gear, and drove through Boonesboro.

After a tour of the small local museum, Booth found a book for Max about the old-time outlaws and historic whisky stills hidden in the Appalachians. Wearing a slight smirk, he showed it to his wife who shook her head and rolled her eyes at him.
"He'll love it, Bones."
"Yes, he will; Booth. You know my father too well."

A short drive down twisting roads brought them back into Middletown, where they explored the quaint shops of its picture-postcard Main Street. In one, Brennan found a whittling knife with a slightly knobby hickory handle and suggested it for Pops.
"A perfect choice; Temperance. The thicker rounded handle will be easy for him to grasp while carving those little toys he makes for Salvation Army gift distribution at Christmastime."

The wizened bespectacled proprietor agreed. "That there's native hickory, m'am. Handle won't never split; made of well-cured hardwood like it is. You'll not find that knife blade coming' loose no matter how much a man whittles. It's stuck in there fer good!"

She paid the very reasonable price, and began a discourse on the anthropological significance of handcrafted good among the mountain residents along the Appalachian Trail. The old man grinned at Booth.

"Yer Missus is a real smart lady, idn' she?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. My wife is a certified genius," Booth smiled back.

"An' a real purty one, too," the shopkeeper chuckled.

Brennan blushed furiously. "Thank you for the wonderful knife; my husband's grandfather will enjoy it very much. I see you are a veteran," she said, gesturing to his forearm where the edge of a Marine Corps tattoo peeked out from under his flannel shirt sleeve as he dusted the counter.

"Yes siree, Semper Fi!" the man declared. "Are you a military man, too, son?" he asked Booth.

"Yup, Army Ranger," Booth responded.

"Well, I guess I can't hold that against you; at least you served… I was a gunnery sergeant in Korea," the store owner laughed.

"Nope, sir, you've got that all wrong! We Rangers lead the way, you know!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, that's what my nephew keeps tellin' me. Y'all have a good day now, ya hear?"

"You too, sir. And thanks again," Booth answered, giving the older veteran a sharp salute.

The former 'gunny' straightened his stooped shoulders and snapped one back. "Take care of yerselves!"

By the time they drove back to Washington, it was getting dark. They stopped at Mama's for soup and sandwiches, and made it home in time to tuck Christine in after Max had read her six-and-a-half stories.

"It's a good thing you two got back. I thought I was gonna lose my voice before Little Miss in there was satisfied with storytime," Max grumbled good-naturedly.

"Thank you for keeping her, Dad. We had a very relaxing weekend. Booth's hiking plans were a complete surprise with your help," Brennan told her father.

"Anytime, Sweetheart. That little angel of yours has me wrapped around her finger, just like you did, Tempe. You still do, you know. I wish your mother could cuddle her. I know she sees her, but it's not the same," Max said, swiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Dad, Mom is gone. There's no afterli-" Brennan began.

"You just stick to that story, Bones. Max and I know better," Booth shushed her softly with a hug.

"That's right," Max agreed, heading the guest room. "You kids have a good night; I'm going to bed; your little monkey kept me hopping and I'm beat!"

G'nite, Max, and thanks," Booth said. He checked the windows, doors, and locks and set the security system as Brennan filled and set the coffeemaker. Then they settled on the couch together to watch the newscast before retiring as well.

"It was a perfect weekend, Booth. Thank you for my Valentine's surprise."

"You earned it, Bones. In the morning, you sleep in. I'll take Chrissy to church and we'll 'surprise' you and Max with pancakes."

A/N: For ecv's last Valentine's Day chapter, I borrowed a reference and a colorful character from the legendary Razztaztic's story "Once Upon A Summer" which recounts one version of Booth's agonized waiting out the three-month period when a desperate Brennan was on the run with Max and baby Christine, after being framed for murdering her friend Dr. Ethan Sawyer by Pelant's evil computer-genius machinations. Harland, one of Max's slippery and resourceful relatives, facilitates a devious way for the partners to communicate under the FBI's nose. I hope every one associated with Bones Fan Fiction has a last wonderful Valentine's Day with our favorite intrepid crime-fighting couple and their trusty team of sidekicks. (If they were real people, I'm sure that Angela, Hodgins, and Cam would be chasing me for calling them that, followed by a few irked interns and an irritated FBI psychologist.)