Shadow Creek (22 page)

“It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way,” Jennifer surprised
herself by saying, then surprised herself even more by continuing, unprompted, the words gushing from her mouth as if from a broken water main. “This was supposed to be a nice long weekend getaway for me, my fiancé, and his daughter, a chance for us to spend some quality time together, to get to know each other better, you know … to
bond
, and all that crap. But then, Evan got delayed—this deal he’s been working on started falling apart—and he had to stay behind, and so his wife—his soon-to-be ex-wife—decided she’d play Mighty Mouse and save the day, in spite of the fact she was supposed to be spending the weekend in Manhattan with her two weirdo friends, the Wicked Witch of the West and Toto. And so we all drove up here,” she continued, unable to stop now even if Henry had stuffed a gag in her mouth, “and what do you know? The ever-agreeable, gruesome threesome decide to spend the night, and we all end up sharing a room—don’t ask,” she warned, before barreling on, “and then Evan calls and says he’s been further delayed, and Val decides to go hiking, and I’m doing my best to be invisible and stay out of everyone’s way, because I think this is probably the safest course of action, but then Brianne takes off with her boyfriend, and a couple of park rangers find them naked in the woods …”

Henry tried—and failed—to suppress a smile. “Yes, I believe I heard some gossip about that. I didn’t realize Brianne and Hayden were the couple in question.”

“Hayden isn’t her boyfriend. It was actually Brianne and
Tyler
 … It doesn’t matter … What matters is we got kicked out of the lodge. And then some guy Val used to know in high school, who happens to be Hayden’s father, shows up out of nowhere, and he comes up with the bright idea that we should all spend the night here in this godforsaken place. So here we are, in the middle of Hell’s Campfire, swatting mosquitoes
and freezing our butts off. And I’m beginning to think David Gowan had the right idea after all. I can’t believe I just told you all that,” she said, then promptly burst into tears.

In the next second, she was in Henry’s strong arms, her face buried in the stiff cotton of his shirt. “I’m sorry,” she said, pulling back, although not entirely out of his reach. “I’m getting your nice shirt all wet.” She rubbed at the now damp fabric, stretched taut against the impressive muscles of Henry’s chest. Somebody’s been overdoing the workouts, she thought, thinking he was about to burst his buttons.

“No problem,” Henry said, his voice somewhat huskier than before.

“You must think I’m crazy.”

“Just a little.”

“I honestly don’t know how I get myself into these situations.”

“Doesn’t sound like you had a whole lot of control over any of it.”

“You’re being very generous.”

He looked toward the ground, pausing several seconds before he spoke. “You don’t have to stay here, you know.”

“Unfortunately, yes, I do.” Jennifer hated the whine she heard in her voice as she felt fresh tears beginning to form. “All the hotels in the area are filled up.”

“I have a place,” Henry offered. “It’s not much, but it has the benefit of being nearby. It even has a guest room. No funny stuff, you have my word as a park ranger.”

“Oh. No, no, I couldn’t. I mean, that’s very kind of you, and everything. I appreciate the offer. I really do. But I … I just … I couldn’t.” Jennifer took another step back, her hands falling limply to her sides.

“I understand.” Henry quickly reached into the pocket
of his crisp black pants and pulled out a small notepad and a ballpoint pen. “Look. I’m gonna give you my phone number,” he said, scribbling it down and tearing off the page, “and you can call me if you change your mind. It’s a special phone they give us that operates by satellite, so you won’t have any trouble reaching me, and you can call anytime. Doesn’t matter how late it is. Don’t worry about waking me up. You understand? If you can’t sleep or you just want to talk some more or … anything at all. You call me. Okay?”

Jennifer slipped the piece of paper into the back pocket of her jeans. “Okay.”

“You’re sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“You gonna stay fine, if I go?” It was almost as if he was seeking her permission to leave, now that it was clear she wasn’t going with him.

“Don’t worry,” a voice said, a slender figure with a shock of orange spiky hair emerging from behind one of the portable toilets and slinking toward them. “Toto will take good care of her.”

Shit, Jennifer thought as James stepped under the spotlight of an overhanging light. “How long have you been hiding behind there?”

“I wasn’t hiding. I was simply waiting for my cue.” James extended his hand toward Henry. “Officer Krupke, I presume?”

Henry declined James’s hand, his face registering his confusion. “I’m sorry?”

“My God. Don’t tell me you’ve actually never seen
West Side Story
? Please say it isn’t so.”

“And you are?” Impatience with the interloper edged concern for Jennifer from Henry’s voice.

“James Milford, also apparently known as Toto. Stereotypical
gay friend of Melissa Atkins, aka the Wicked Witch of the West, and Valerie Rowe, also known as the Wife of Evan.
Still Wife
, we like to call her.” He glanced pointedly at Jennifer. “The aforementioned Gruesome Threesome. And I see you’ve already met Jennifer, known affectionately in some quarters as the …”

“Okay, I think that’s quite enough nicknames for one night,” Melissa interrupted forcefully, breaking into the center of the group.

“My God,” Jennifer wailed. “Are you all out there?”

“Believe it or not, we saw you leave and got concerned when you didn’t come back. Silly us.”

“Look, I’m sorry if you were offended by what I said,” Jennifer began.

“But just to be clear, not sorry you said it?” James asked.

“I was upset. Surely you can understand that.”

“Why? Being gay doesn’t mean I’m especially sensitive.”

“He actually isn’t sensitive at all,” Melissa said.

“Thank you,” said James.

“In fact, he’s quite obtuse.”

“Oh, you’re just saying that.”

“Is this supposed to be funny?” Henry’s patience was clearly at an end. “I mean, what the hell is this?”

“It’s okay,” Jennifer said. “It’s my fault. I deserve it.”

“It’s not your fault,” Henry argued.

“Yes, it is. It’s all her fault,” James insisted. “Anyway, I have to pee. So, if you’ll excuse me …” He disappeared into the nearest porta-potty.

“This night just keeps getting better and better,” Melissa said.

“I think I’m going to bed now,” Jennifer said.

“I think that’s a great idea.” Melissa turned toward Henry.
“Thank you for all your trouble. I’m sure we can handle things from here.”

“Thank you, Henry,” Jennifer said before he could protest.

“You’ll call me if you need me?”

Jennifer patted the side pocket of her jeans. “I have your number,” she said.

A
RE YOU KIDDING ME? She called you the Wicked Witch of the West?” Val was torn between being offended for her friend and laughing out loud.

“She tried to explain she was only referencing my proclivity for black, but I told her I wasn’t buying it.”

“She actually said she was ‘referencing your proclivity for black’?” Val asked, astonished. “Those were her words?”

“No, of course not. Those are
my
words. I was paraphrasing. But I think you’re missing the point here.”

“And she really called James ‘Toto’?”

“I thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head. You should have seen him. You should have
heard
him.
The dog?
he kept saying.
She thinks I’m the damn dog? Everyone with half a brain can see I’m Dorothy, for God’s sake
. Then he started clicking
his heels together and chanting,
There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home
. It was more than worth the price of admission.”

This time Val did laugh. “You’re really being very good sports about all this. I owe you both, big-time.”

“Please, you don’t owe us a thing. I think this might be the best trip we’ve ever taken.”

Val glanced around the claustrophobic, heavy canvas walls of the tent she and Melissa were sharing, picturing the high-ceilinged, Wedgwood-blue baroque interior of the suite they were missing out on at the Plaza. My kingdom for a down-filled mattress, she thought, trying to get comfortable inside the sleeping bag the campground had provided for each of them, wondering how she’d ever enjoyed crawling inside a thin layer of flannel and feeling the uneven contours of the earth underneath her back. “Do you think they ever wash these things?” she wondered out loud, sniffing at the brown lining, catching a brief reminder of Gary’s scent, and wondering if Melissa could smell it, too.

“Don’t ask me,” Melissa said. “You’re the camper in the group. I thought you’d be in your element.”

“Times have changed, I guess.”

“They always do. Anyway, it’s not all that awful.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“Yes, I am. But you have to play the hand you’re given.”

“What if I want to trade in a few of my cards?”

“Then you’ll have to go play with somebody else. I’m too tired for extended metaphors. Anyway,” Melissa said, groaning as she turned over in her sleeping bag, “I’m going to close my eyes now and dream about what goodies tomorrow has in store for us.”

“Oh, God. I shudder to think.”

“Don’t shudder. Sleep.”

“Melissa?”

“Hmm?”

“Where’d you ever find black pajamas?”

Melissa answered with her signature chuckle, a sound that Val had always considered the audible equivalent of a corkscrew, and said nothing. Seconds later, her gentle snoring filled the tent.

“Good night,” Val whispered, watching her words dissolve in the cool mountain air and closing her eyes, although she doubted she’d get any sleep tonight. There was too much on her mind. First, of course, was Brianne and that stupid boy—correction,
man
—Tyler. Thank God her daughter was safe and Hayden’s cell phone hadn’t been able to connect to the outside world. Then there was Jennifer and that consistently smug little expression on her smug little face, not to mention those stupid legs that went on forever. Women like Jennifer had always made her feel clumsy and inferior, bringing back painful memories of the awkwardness she’d felt throughout her high school years. And speaking of high school, who could forget Gary and their unexpected, not to mention unexpectedly wonderful, romp in the sack, or sleeping bag, as the case may be? An involuntary groan escaped her lips as she pictured the two of them rolling around the tent’s cramped interior. She bit down on her bottom lip to keep from groaning again, still feeling him inside her. Dear God, what had she been thinking? Had she lost her mind entirely? Why now, of all times? In this, of all places? Under these, of all circumstances?

Other men had come on to her in the immediate aftermath of Evan’s desertion, and she’d had no trouble turning down any of them. In truth, she hadn’t even been vaguely tempted, so shattered was she by Evan’s decision to leave her. So why succumb
now—hell, she hadn’t succumbed, she’d
instigated
—just when Evan had started dropping some none-too-subtle hints that he wanted to come back?

Was that what
she
wanted? she wondered, the surprising thought causing her eyes to open wide. Was a lifetime of lies and self-doubt really preferable to a lifetime of loneliness and regret? And were those her only options?

And while on the subject of errant husbands, where exactly was David Gowan and would they ever find out what happened to him?

So there was definitely a lot to think about, Val decided, flipping over onto her back and surrendering to the certainty that this was going to be one very long night indeed.

In the next instant, she was fast asleep.

“ARE YOU KIDDING me?” Brianne asked, trying not to laugh at the theatrically pained expression contorting James’s already exaggerated features. “She called you Toto?”

“The
dog
,” he said, pulling a gray sweatshirt over his orange hair. “The fucking dog.”

“Can’t she see you’re so much more Dorothy?” Brianne asked.

“Exactly. Bless you, my child. At least
somebody
understands me.”

“Oh, God. You are
such
a cliché,” Brianne said, as she’d said many times before. She reached over to give him a big hug.

“Right back at you.” James lifted the sleeping bag above his head. “Just look at this stupid thing. What’s one supposed to do with it exactly?”

“One is supposed to climb inside it.”

“Oh, please. God only knows how many people have been in it already.”

“Funny, I’ve heard people say the same thing about you.”

James gasped, his fingers fluttering about his face in mock outrage. “You filthy girl. I’m going to report you to your mother.”

Brianne giggled at her own naughtiness. Despite her sour demeanor and loudly proclaimed abhorrence for how this extended weekend was playing out, she was actually starting to enjoy herself. Maybe because she knew it was about to come to an end. She checked her watch. Almost ten o’clock. Just two more hours. And then
The Great Escape
, she thought dramatically. “I have to go to the bathroom,” she announced, deciding it was time for another trip to the john.

“Again?”

“I have a small bladder.”

“Since when?”

“Since I was a baby. Hasn’t my mother told you about how, when I was little, I had to go to the bathroom, like every ten minutes, and how I couldn’t be bothered, so I’d just pee in my pants?”

“Charming.”

Brianne continued, unabashed. “Apparently I peed in my pants until I was seven years old. My mother decided there was no point in making us both crazy by turning it into a big deal—she said she figured I’d be potty-trained by the time I was ready to walk down the aisle—so she’d just send me off to school with a bag full of clothes to change into.”

“So tolerant and understanding. No wonder you hate her.”