Part 17 (1/2)

”Okay! Fine!”

Amy lay back on the sand. ”I didn't think I would like you, that first night, in the hotel.”

”Well, I didn't think I'd like you, either.”

”Because I'm fat?”

”No. Because of your Jamba Juice T-s.h.i.+rt. Jamba Juice sucks.”

”It was because I'm fat. That's okay. A lot of people do it. I'm used to it. Sometimes I think I should just walk into the river at night while everyone's sleeping.”

”Oh, how goth.”

Amy sat up and glared at him, and he sensed he'd gone too far. But then, to his surprise, she burst out laughing. Peter felt like he had either just gotten away with something hugely significant or said something brilliant. He didn't want to know which; he wanted to leave it at that, with a laugh the two of them could share, even if it might be for very different reasons.

In any case, he was most thankful to see Susan walking toward them, carrying two plates of something fruity and crumbly.

”She doesn't know, by the way,” said Amy under her breath. ”Hi, Mom,” she said brightly.

”I thought you'd want dessert,” Susan said, handing them the plates. Peter took his gratefully. The cherry filling was thick and gluey and probably came straight out of a can but tasted so, so fine, down here on the river. And when Susan told them that Ruth might have to be evacuated because of her leg, it barely registered, because between three margaritas and a plateful of cherry cobbler and whatever he'd eaten in between, Peter wasn't feeling so very great himself.

Late that night, while others slept, Evelyn headed upriver in the dark to find a good place to pee. Most people at night simply waded into the shallow water by the boats, but Evelyn felt too self-conscious with the guides so close by. And she wasn't going to punish herself over this anymore, either. She was who she was, and so what if she needed her privacy?

She didn't want to go too far upriver, though, because she didn't want to intrude upon the hikers' camping s.p.a.ce. What a bunch of women! Stripping down like that! Once she and Julian had gone skinny-dipping in the ocean up in Maine. The moon was out, and Julian's little white rump bobbed in the surf. They were both afraid of getting caught, but it was early in their relations.h.i.+p, when they felt emboldened by love to commit risque acts. The dark water pounded and tossed her around, but when she came up sputtering, Julian was right there.

Eventually, Evelyn reached a small cl.u.s.ter of rounded rocks, full of little pools and inlets. She was about to squat when she heard a woman sigh. Evelyn glanced up. Just beyond the rocks, away from the water's edge, a form s.h.i.+fted on the sand. Two forms, actually, and Evelyn quickly looked away, but not before she saw the woman stretch her arms out to the sides, like a snow angel, as the man moved on top.

Evelyn felt her stomach flutter. She didn't think they had heard her, but all the same, she had witnessed them. Which was all that mattered here, because it seeded in her a yearning she thought she had disposed of when she dropped the necklace off Navajo Bridge. She flashed back to that night in Maine. She and Julian had been too scared to make love on the beach that night. But down here ...

For the rest of the trip, Evelyn kept imagining what it would be like, lying naked on the warm sand, with the sound of the river and a slight breeze and Julian between her legs, whispering terrible, lovely things in her ear.

DAY SEVEN.

River Miles 93108 Granite to Lower Ba.s.s

28.

Day Seven, Morning Mile 93 During breakfast the next morning, JT told everyone to look for Ruth's pillbox, impressing on them the gravity of the situation. Ruth was no practicing Catholic, but she found herself saying a prayer to St. Anthony, patron saint of lost things. She ate quickly and went back and ransacked their tent. She turned their sleeping bags inside out. She pawed through the plastic bag of dirty clothes. She searched through the pockets of all their pants and shorts. Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away. She was not, she was not not going to let JT evacuate them. going to let JT evacuate them.

But her search was to no avail, and soon she heard JT calling her. Reluctantly she climbed out of the tent and followed him to a clear s.p.a.ce in the sand.

”Sure looks like flesh-eating strep to me,” she declared when he unwrapped the gauze. ”In which case it won't matter if you evacuate us because I'll be dead by tonight. Might as well die down here where it's beautiful.” She cringed at her sarcasm. She was acting like a sulky teenager. But she couldn't help it.

”Lloyd will jump out of the helicopter if you try to evacuate us,” she informed him.

JT sat back. ”Look, Ruth. I know it's your job to think about Lloyd. But it's my job to think about you and Lloyd and everyone else. I've got a trip to run. I'm liable for your health and safety.”

”I'll sign a release.”

”Ruth. I could lose my license over this. And do you really want to risk having your leg amputated? Who will take care of Lloyd if you're stuck in a wheelchair?”

It seemed to Ruth that she had reached the very depths of despair, hearing this. She was d.a.m.ned if she stayed and d.a.m.ned if she went. But JT was right. As a responsible adult, she should be thinking of the long-term consequences of her actions.

”I don't know how I'll tell Lloyd,” she said.

”If you want, I'll tell him,” JT said. ”I'll tell him I called my boss, and it's out of our control.”

”We'll miss Crystal and Lava,” Ruth said.

JT squeezed warm water over her leg. ”You get your leg healed up, and we'll find you s.p.a.ce on another trip this summer.”

He'd gone too far, here; he'd lost his credibility, for they both knew another trip would never happen. But before she could call him on this-and make him feel twice as bad-they looked up to see Susan hurrying toward them.

”It was under a towel in JT's boat,” she said breathlessly, showing them the pillbox. ”I got as many pills as I could find, but the rest were half dissolved. I don't know what's what.” She handed it to Ruth. It had been gnawed ragged, and the pills that remained were all mixed up in the various compartments. Ruth dumped everything into the palm of her hand. Greedily she poked through them, separating out four of the oval tablets.

”How many were there supposed to be?” JT asked her.

”Ten.”

”Go back and look some more,” JT ordered Susan. ”Give me the pillbox. G.o.d d.a.m.n it,” and he held the pillbox in front of the dog's nose. The dog panted and wagged his tail.

”You bad dog,” JT said, ”you bad, bad dog,” and in a moment of temper, he swatted the dog's nose with the pillbox. Blender yelped and slunk away.

”G.o.d d.a.m.n it,” said JT. He felt as close to wanting to punch something as he'd felt in a long, long time.

Meanwhile, Ruth had already uncapped her water bottle and taken one of the pills.

”You stop that, JT,” she said, wiping her mouth. ”We found the pills. Don't yell at the dog.”

”Four out of ten!”

”Enough to get me started.”

”You can't just take half a course,” he said.

”I can when I'm on the river!” she said angrily. ”Stop being such a gloomy Gus! I'm on antibiotics now! You're off the hook!”

Sam came up, holding a few more pills, including another Cipro.

”See?” said Ruth triumphantly. ”Now we have five! You can't call for a helicopter when I have half the medicine I need! And who knows, we may find even more. Come,” she ordered the dog, and he slunk around JT to sit at Ruth's side. He nuzzled her face and licked her neck.

”He was just doing what a dog does,” she told JT. ”Now say you're sorry for smacking him. Come on,” she said. ”Say you're sorry.”