Down River (5 page)

Finally, finally, the ledge widened, but then it came to nothing.

“Mitch, dead end.”

“So I see. But we’re almost out of the gorge. Just stay very still.”

“I feel like we’ve already climbed Mount McKinley—Denali, you called it.”

“Don’t talk.”

He came very close to her, even putting one foot between hers where she was standing with her legs apart for better balance. He pressed her closer to the rock face. It almost felt as if she were sitting on his lap. She could feel his breath on her temple, stirring her hair. Her heartbeat kicked up even more than it had from fear. In the worst of extremities, why did she let this man who had deserted her and hurt her get to her like this?

“I see a place just a ways down where we can get onto another ledge to make it out,” he said. “I’m going to take this weight off my back and drop our stuff down to the ledge below. Stand very still. I may have to press into you harder.”

She closed her eyes and held her breath. Why a certain memory came to her then, she wasn’t sure, but she saw—and felt—Mitch standing behind her on his boat,
Sea Dancer,
to help her handle her fishing pole when a big fish had hit off Key Biscayne in that warm, sparkling water. It had been a very calm day, no waves, no white water, no turbulence. They had just started dating, and she’d thought he was so perfect then. A combination of
GQ
magazine handsome and
Pro Football Today
rugged. Whether in a tuxedo or cutoff jeans, the man reeked of masculinity with his dark hair, square jaw and thick eyebrows over deep-set, coffee-colored eyes. His voice,
somehow both refined but rough, sent shivers down her spine. Then they’d landed that big fish together and—

She felt him drop his pack and heard it hit below.

“How far down?” she asked, not daring to turn to look.

“Not too bad. I’m going to lie on my stomach, help you down to our stuff, then scoot down to join you. Here, turn carefully and sit on the ledge. You’ll have to look down, just for a sec, so you know what I mean.”

As he held her, she turned and sat. Pressing her back to the rock, she looked down and gasped. The ledge was at least five feet below and only about four feet wide! Although no water churned beneath them now, their escape route had narrowed so much that if they slipped, they’d be wedged in jagged rocks.

But looking left, she could see that from the lower level, they could work their way down to the valley that spread out below. And the most glorious sunset stretched across the sky, streaks of pink and orange and fuchsia. In blinding colors, it looked almost neon, like in
The Wizard of Oz
she’d been somehow thinking about—hallucinating—the part where Dorothy lands in Oz. This was the part where the movie went from being black and white to amazing hues.

“Lisa, you ready?”

“I better be. I don’t see we have a choice. And, at least this time, I’m ready to ride off with you into the sunset.”

The minute that was out of her mouth, she regret
ted the choice of words, but he only said, “That’s one of the treasures of living in Alaska. This time of year, though you can’t see the aurora borealis clearly, that kind of sunset will last all night.”

All night. It must be night now, she thought as she somehow found the courage—or sheer desperation—to turn on her stomach and inch her legs and lower torso over the edge while he held on to her. She scraped her thighs, belly, breasts and chin while he slowly dangled her lower. After what seemed an eternity, she stood alone on the ledge, praying silently for his safety, while he scooted closer on his stomach.

“I said, don’t touch me in case I fall,” he gritted out, but she pressed her hands to the backs of his thighs, then to his hard buttocks as he came over.

“On second thought,” he said when he finally stood beside her, “that felt great. Maybe you can boost me up there again and—”

“We’re just hiking and camping buddies, remember.”

“And we’re going to have the time to talk we’ve needed.”

“I’d like to say ‘water over the dam,’ but it isn’t, is it? Not with either of us.”

Pressing his lips tight together, he just shook his head, then bent to pick up their gear again. He slung the makeshift pack over one shoulder. “Let’s find a good place to rest, and we’ll get these shoes taped on you,” he said, sounding all business now, just the way he always had in the office or in court when she
used to study how controlled he was, how self-assured. Even that had moved her deeply, because she knew the other, passionate side of him, when they were alone—as they were now.

W
hen Spike told the search party what Christine had said about the kayak trail from the ridge to the water, many of them rushed to the river. A few went down to look at the exact spot, but most stood on the lawn of the lodge, gazing in the direction Mitch and Lisa must have gone in the two-seat kayak. Some whispered and shook their heads, then turned away, heading back to their trucks.

“But why?” Mrs. Bonner asked her husband. “Has Mitchell become such a daredevil in extreme sports here? He seemed all about safety rules and regulations yesterday.”

“Life in Alaska can be an extreme sport,” Spike said just loudly enough for Christine and Ginger to hear from his position between the two of them. The Bonners stood directly behind. “But something’s weird—really wrong,” he added.

“And I can’t believe,” Mrs. Bonner went on to her husband, “Lisa would agree to such a thing, not after losing her family that way.”

Despite the fact Christine never would have let on she could overhear, Spike turned to the Bonners and said, “You mean her family drowned in a river?”

“An accident in the Atlantic—or maybe it was the Caribbean,” Mr. Bonner said, frowning at the churning foam.

“What kind of accident?” Spike pursued, though Christine elbowed him as subtly as she could.

“Boating, not swimming,” Mrs. Bonner said, sounding brusque. “Her mother and her sister drowned. It was a long time ago, but I’m sure it’s something one never gets over.”

That was sad about her family, Christine thought, but she couldn’t help resenting Lisa Vaughn’s continued sway over Mitch, her power to still hurt him. Christine had seen it in his eyes and heard it in his voice.

“I’m going to phone the state troopers,” Spike told them. “I’m not sure what they can do if Mitch and Ms. Vaughn are kayaking the rapids, heading for the gorge, but they gotta be informed.”

“Wait!” Mrs. Bonner cried, grabbing for Spike’s arm. “I—I was reading online about Alaska before our trip and learned that law enforcement officials are really scarce and have to cover hundreds of miles. Maybe my husband can pull some strings to get some here.”

“Here wouldn’t help,” Spike told her. “In that river they’re long gone—from this area, I mean. But the local police may be able to get the Denali Park Rangers to help with the search way downriver. I’ll call the locals and the feds.”

He strode away briskly, with the Bonners following. Christine went, too, leaving Ginger with just a few stragglers to gaze out over the river. Spike muttered, talking aloud to himself as he often did, “They’ll have to look for them below the series of falls in case they got around or over them.”

“Falls?” Mr. Bonner said, his voice stern and clear, compared to his wife’s sweeter tones. Christine had seen lawyers up close and personal. That’s why the guests made her uneasy. She could just imagine Graham Bonner cross-examining someone on the witness stand. “Waterfalls?” he repeated in his clarion voice. “How many, how large?”

“Four fairly small ones, but any one could put you in that cold, rough river,” Spike said, still walking. “Mrs. Bonner, as soon as I contact the police and park rangers, I’ll take you up on that offer to fly with me for an air search.”

“But with these rapids—and the falls—you think they can survive all that?” she asked, tears in her eyes and her hand clutched at her throat. “They are both very dear to us.”

“Gotta try.”

“Mitchell should have known better,” Christine heard Mrs. Bonner mutter as the couple fell behind and she and Spike hurried into the lodge to make the calls. “Graham, it just shows you they are both a bit foolhardy yet, just when you think they’d learned to stay apart and away from all that past pain.”

Christine stood next to Spike while he used the
kitchen phone. She wrapped her arms around herself tight, as if to hold herself up. She shook all over and blinked back tears. If she lost Mitch, she lost her future. Mrs. Bonner was right. Mitch knew better than to risk the river, no matter what the reason. But she kept hearing Mrs. Bonner’s last words:
You think they’d stay apart and away from all that past pain…

She and Clay should have stayed apart. She should have left him—fled—but Yup’ik women were loyal and tenacious. She bit her lower lip hard, trying to stop the jagged memories of the lawyers picking apart her testimony about being beaten black and blue…all that pain…but she stayed with him too long….

But now—far worse—she knew Mitch had been gone on that devil of a river far too long.

Lisa hurt all over, as if she’d been beaten by someone’s fists. Her skin, what she had seen of it before donning the wet suit earlier, was turning black and blue, even greenish in spots. A new fashion statement in an eco-conscious world—green blotches to complement her green eyes. She was so exhausted she thought she could fall flat on her face and drown in this shallow, spongy-bottom muskeg they traversed. But she went on, step after painful step, behind Mitch as he made a wobbly path for them around thickets and through grass and sedge in about one foot of water.

“How are those Mitchell Andrew Braxton de
signer shoes holding up?” he asked. He sounded and looked exhausted, too, plodding under the burden of that pack like some old, worn-out Santa Claus.

“They’re a bit buoyant so I’m almost walking on this water.”

“When we were first dating, I used to think you could walk on water.”

“I know you keep talking just to keep me going, but I can’t even concentrate—can’t go on.”

“You can because I see tundra instead of this muskeg ahead of us, and, I think, some berry bushes. It’s about time for blueberries but that might be lingonberries, something like cranberries.”

“I just want to lie down.”

“We will, soon as we hit dry ground. By the way, in case an airplane should fly over, looking for us or not, raising two hands means we need help. Raising one means we’re okay.”

“I don’t have the strength to raise one, let alone two.”

“You know what? It looks like a patch of blueberries, so I hope the bears have left us some.”

“Bears?”

“They love them. Come on, Lisa Marie!”

“I told you a long time ago not to call me that, even if it is my name. I hate my middle name. It reminds me of Elvis’s daughter, who married Michael Jackson, no less. Married Michael Jackson!”

“Yeah, but they didn’t last long. You know, it sounds like you’re awake enough to be mad at me and at Michael Jackson, Lisa Marie.”

“You’re just trying to get me riled so I keep going to spite you.”

“Riled? Now, isn’t that a good frontier word? As it says on the state’s license plates—The Last Frontier.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to get that picture. And you’re starting to sound like a travel brochure.”

But she had to admit, as he’d said earlier, the sunset never ended. It was still glorious, a rainbow of hues that didn’t just hang in the west but covered the entire sky. Mitch turned back to help her up to higher, dry ground. She didn’t care what he said, if he insulted her or praised her. She sank down where she was, surrounded by some sort of spiky pink flowers. He dropped his pack beside her with a thud.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, jolting her alert again.

“Right back from where?” she blurted, getting to her knees to rise until she realized he might have to relieve himself. They’d both managed some privacy for that, on and off the ledge, but she seemed to have sweated all her hydration out now.

“I see a birch tree, and I’m going to use my knife to cut you some of the inner bark to chew. It’s what the Inuit use for aspirin. I know you’ve got to be hurting.”

Got to be hurting.
When had she not? Actually, as sore as she was, as many aches and pains that plagued her right now, she knew from experience that this physical agony was nothing next to that of the heart and spirit.

She closed her eyes. Did she doze off?

“Chew this,” Mitch said, already chomping on a piece of bark when he came back and offered her a short, white strip. “Honestly, it will help. Then, take my knife and cut some of these fireweed greens for us. They make good salad greens, even though I don’t have a variety of salad dressings to offer. I’m going to get the backpack full of berries, and we’re going to have a feast before we go to sleep.”

“Sleep right here? Will it be safe?”

“You said you couldn’t go on and neither can I.”

They ate the last of their smoked salmon, gorged themselves on plump blueberries—the best she had ever tasted—and chewed fireweed washed down by river water. Mitch had made stoppers for the soda cans with plugs of neoprene so it wouldn’t spill out. Neither of them said much, until she watched him spread out their tent, lie down and gesture for her to come into his arms.

“We can’t sleep the way we did before,” she protested. “Both in there, I mean.”

Looking exasperated, he shrugged. “Suit yourself, but after being hypothermic, I’d think you’d want to keep warm. This cover is fine for two and, once again, we’ll need the body heat. Nothing personal, Ms. Vaughn. Besides, I’m expecting some voracious females tonight, if I’m not covered up.”

“What?”

“Mosquitoes. The females of the breed are vampires, you know, but I think we’ll be safe from everything else.”

“I’ve got this wet suit on under my clothes, and I’ll put your backpack over my head. I’ll be fine.”

He snuggled into the canvas tent, and his voice came to her, muffled. “I thought you were exhausted. Say your prayers but quit talking.”

She lay down about four feet from him. At least he could have let her use the tent he made a big deal of wrapping tighter about himself like a cuddly cocoon. Facing him, she curled up on her side and pulled her knees up nearly to her chest. What if a bear came by after those blueberries? She heard the high-pitched whine of a mosquito, and she swatted at it. But she was so tired, nothing would make a difference now, nothing….

She drifted away—away on the foam where her mother beckoned to her through the whirling white water.

“Well?” Christine said to Spike when he hung up after the second call to the authorities. “Can they help?”

“Yeah, but they wanted to know why he’d be crazy enough to kayak that part of the river. They said he had permission only to put rafts or kayaks in six miles to the west of here which is a good mile before all the rapids get dangerous.”

“He knew that. I—I can’t understand it either. Unless—”

“Unless what?” he said, turning to her. He looked into her teary face—he had never seen her cry—and
put his hands on her shoulders. Big, warm hands when she was shaking all over. She lifted her hands to clasp his wrists.

“I don’t know. Unless he was showing her something about the kayak, and it just took off with them in it.”

“Not like him. Too crazy,” he said, then leaned against the counter. He pulled her into his arms and held her tight.

For once she didn’t flinch when a man so much as touched her. Her head found a perfect fit under his chin. Mitch always smelled of pine and fresh air, while Spike emanated Lava soap, gasoline, motor oil and his precious sled dogs. But she didn’t care. She needed his strength right now, maybe more than that. She sniffed hard, then, instead of just standing stiffly in the circle of his arms, hugged him back hard, her arms around his waist.

“I don’t think of you this way—crying and needy,” he murmured, his lips moving in her hair atop her head. “You’re always so strong, even…with everything. Hell, honey, got to get going,” he said, setting her back and avoiding her eyes now as if he’d seen something there that scared him.

“You and Ginger stay near the two-way. I’m gonna go get the plane and fill it up, then take Mrs. Bonner up with me. Hard to believe it, but that little lady knows cockpits, loves to fly. Keep the home fires burning now,” he added as he made for the door, nearly running into his sister as she came into the kitchen.

“Spike!” Christine called to him, and he turned back. “If you go right now, you’ll have the sun in your eyes over Denali and the top of the gorge. You may have trouble seeing anyone. Just be careful….”

Had she called him back for that? He knew this area better than she did. Or was it that she just couldn’t bear to let him out of her sight right now?

“I’ll be in touch,” he said, and hurried out.

In touch. She still felt his touch as she turned away from Ginger’s probing gaze.

Lisa heard herself crying in her grief, howling inside her head like an animal in pain. She felt so alone since Daddy ran off with some woman, with Mommy and Jani dead. Grandma Colleen took her in and loved her, but it wasn’t the same, wasn’t right. Nothing was right until she made friends she clung to and then Mitch…Mitch, let her down, down onto the next ledge.

She dragged herself from the depths of sleep. Where was she? She saw strange colors overhead, more muted now.

She jerked fully awake. She was sleeping in the Alaskan wilderness with the man who had ruined her life but then saved it.

She saw he had moved a bit closer to her in the twilight. Yes, he’d said it never got dark this time of year. The sunset had faded to pale hues with cirrus clouds roped across the heavens. Mitch had been right—she was cold. But nothing compared to being
in the river. Yet a chill snaked up her spine when she remembered that someone had shoved her in that river. Hadn’t they? Jonas or Vanessa? Christine Tanaka knew where she was going and maybe knew that Mitch was running a bit late. Surely not the Bonners? Or could she have just stumbled and hit her head? No way had she been so drawn by that white water, felt so strange and guilty and then leaped toward it of her own accord.

The howling, long, low and lonely, came again. What was it? How close? Surely that was not a bear.

“Mitch. Mitch!”

He stirred, then lifted his head. “What?”

That horrible howling again. The hair prickled on the back of her neck, and her stomach cartwheeled.

“Just wolves,” he said.

“Just? Then what are we doing here near them? They hunt in packs to eat big game, don’t they?”

“My guess is they have plenty to eat out here besides humans. That’s probably their version of a love song to a mate. I think they avoid people.”