Resurrection Dreams (42 page)

The spray stopped.

The two seemed rimmed with electric blue light as they climbed into the tub. They were naked.

“Shut the drain, honey,” Patricia said. “We don’t want to lose his blood.”

She crawled over him.

They both crawled over him.

He felt their teeth.

“Okay,” Vicki said. “We’re here.” She rested her paddle across the gunnels. Paul did the same. The canoe glided silently over the moon-sprinkled surface of the river.

Paul looked over his shoulder at her. “We’re where?” he asked.

“The special place.”

“We’re in the middle of the river.”

“So we are.”

She crawled toward him, the canoe rocking gently as she moved. Paul turned around.

On her knees, she spread the blanket. She lay down on it, feet toward Paul. Lifting her head, she watched him come to her.

“What’s the idea?” he asked.

“Gee, I don’t know.”

Vicki turned onto her side. Paul stretched out next to her.

“Hope we don’t get run over by a powerboat,” he whispered.

They moved closer together until their bodies touched.

“I’ve always wanted to do this,” Vicki said.

“The Huckleberry Finn in you.”

“Finn never had it so good.”

She hooked an arm over Paul’s back, slid her other arm beneath his head, drew herself more firmly against him. She could feel his heartbeat and the soft warm touch of his breath on her face. The river gently lifted the canoe, turned it, lowered it, rocked it.

Something thumped the hull.

Vicki flinched.

“Just a piece of driftwood, or something,” Paul said.

Rigid against him, she listened.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“What was it?” she whispered.

“I’ll check.” He stirred, but Vicki clenched him hard against her body. “I can’t check if you’re going to hang onto me like that.”

“Stay down.”

“Vicki.”

“Please.”

“Okay. God, you’re shaking.”

“Just hold me. Hold me tight.”

“I’ll do better than that.” He rolled, climbed onto her, covered her with his body.

“No! Get down here!”

“Oh,” he muttered. “Aw, Vicki.”

She fought to hold onto him, but he pushed himself up and leaned out over the river. She heard a swish of water. Then he brought up a club of tree branch. He held it above her for a moment. Chilly water streamed off it, splashing her face and running down her cheeks. Then Paul flung the branch away. It plopped into the river.

Straddling her, he took off his shirt. He gently dried her face with it. “Just driftwood,” he said in a low voice. “It wasn’t Charlie Gaines coming up to get you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“I’ve been looking forward so much…I thought it’d be so neat.”

He rolled his shirt and tucked it beneath Vicki’s head. “You just lie there, I’ll take us back to shore. The bed may not be as romantic, but it’ll be a lot more comfortable.”

Reaching up, she caressed his chest. “I don’t want to go.”

“Maybe next year.”

“Next year, I’ll still wonder if he’s down there. And the year after that. He’s never going to be found.” She slipped her hands around Paul’s sides and drew him down onto her. “If Charlie’s after me, let him come.”

“Maybe we’d better go home.”

“I don’t think so.” Vicki pressed her open hands against Paul’s ears and shouted into the night, “HEY, CHARLIE! CHARLIE GAINES! IT’S ME, VICKI! NOW OR NEVER, OLD FRIEND! COME AND GET ME, OR FOREVER HOLD YOUR PEACE!”