She grinned. “Not this time.” She leaned back, braced up on straight arms, and watched. Rick couldn’t take his eyes off her. After his socks were on, she threw the shirt to him. Then his shorts, and finally his trousers. While he fastened the belt, Bert slipped into her faded, blue chambray shirt. Leaving it open, she rolled the sleeves up her forearms. Then she buttoned the front.
Show’s over, Rick thought.
A sudden rush of panic squeezed him.
Bert frowned. “What’s wrong?”
He shook his head.
“What is it?”
“Just butterflies.”
“You look like you got kicked in the nuts.”
Feel that way, he thought. “I’m fine,” he said.
Bert got up. She put her arms around him. “What kind of butterflies?”
“Mallards.”
“Mallards are ducks.”
“I’ll be all right.”
“It’s about camping?”
Rick nodded.
“I thought you just didn’t want to go without the comforts. It’s more than that.”
“I had some trouble the last time.”
Bert stroked the hair on the back of his head.
“I was fourteen. I was packing with my father out of Mineral Springs. We were in deep. Nobody else was around. I stumbled going across some rocks and stepped into a crevice. It was so dumb. I should’ve looked where I was going. Anyway, I sustained fractures of my left tibia and fibula. Dad left me alone to go for help. It was three days before I got air-lifted out. Not such a big deal, I guess, but I was fourteen and it was a pretty desolate area like some kind of Dah nightmare landscape, and I felt ... vulnerable. There were coyotes around. I’d see them slinking over the rocks near the camp and I figured I was probably on the menu. Hell, I was scared shitless the whole time. The end.”
Bert held him tightly.
“No major deal in the scheme of things,” Rick said. “But enough to dampen my enthusiasm for roughing it.”
“You must’ve been terrified,” Bert said.
“It was a long time ago.”
“I shouldn’t have pushed you into this. I mean, I knew you weren’t eager to go, but I never suspected ...”
He patted her rump. “We’d better get a move on.”
“Maybe we should change our plans.”
“Call it off?” Rick asked.
“Sure. It’s okay with me.”
Go for it, Rick thought. This is just what you’ve been waiting to hear.
“What about the call of the wild?” he asked.
“I’ll answer it some other time.”
“Without me?”
He felt her shrug.
“I’ll go. You know what they say about falling off a horse. And about lightning striking the same place twice.”
“Are you sure?” Bert asked.
“Absolutely.”
She squeezed him. “I’ll make you a promise. If you break a leg this time out, I’ll stay with you. We’ll stick it out together until somebody comes along, and send
It was the last thing Rick wanted to hear. “A deal,” he said.
Gillian O’Neill stared at the ringing telephone. She didn’t want to pick it up.
This time, she thought, I won’t.
If I don’t pick it up, they’ll be all right.
But as she watched, the handset rose into the air.
No!
She had a pair of scissors in her hand. She rushed forward, ready to cut the cord, but she wasn’t in time. A voice boomed out of the phone as if from a loudspeaker: “Guess what happened to your parents!”
The mouthpiece sprayed blood. The red shower splashed Gillian’s face, blinding her. She shrieked, lurched backward, tripped and began a long fall, and jerked awake.
Gasping, she rolled onto her back.
The bell rang again.
Not the telephone; the front door.
Trembling, Gillian used the top sheet like a towel to wipe her sweaty face. Then she scurried off her bed. At the closet, she grabbed her robe. She put it on as she rushed from the room. It clung to her skin. She got the belt tied on her way down the hall.
“I’m coming,” she called when she reached the living room.
“Okey-doke.” It was the voice of Odie Taylor.
She slowed down. Just Odie. Good.
She opened the door.
Odie smiled nervously. His head bobbed and swayed, as usual, like the heads of the toy dogs Gillian sometimes saw in the rear windows of cars. As usual, he didn’t look her in the eyes. His gaze stayed level with her neck.
“Wake you?” he asked her neck.
“I’m glad of it. I was having a bad dream.”
“Gee, I’m sorry.” He hitched up his sagging jeans. “You been gone.”
“I took a little vacation. Want a Pepsi?”
“Thank you.”
He stayed on the balcony outside the door while Gillian hurried into the kitchen and took a can of soda from the refrigerator. She knew better than to ask Odie in. The only time she had invited him into the apartment, he had gone wild-eyed and started stuttering, scared as a trapped animal until he was outside again.
She handed the can to him.
“Thank you very much,” he said. He held it and stared at her neck. His head weaved and nodded.
“Is there a problem? My rent late?”
“Heyuh.” It was Odie’s way of laughing. “You’re trying to joke me, Miss O’Neill.” Odie seemed as nervous about calling her Gillian as he was about entering her apartment. “You don’t pay no rent, you own the place.”
“Oh, that’s right. I forgot.”
“You didn’t forget, you’re trying to joke me.”
“Is there a problem, or ...”
“Gee.” He bit down on his lower lip.
“What is it?”
“I’m gonna have to go on back home. Pa took a spill off the barn roof.”
“God, I’m sorry.”
“Well, he ain’t dead or nothing but he got busted up some. Me and Grace, we’re gonna have to go on back home. I’m sure sorry.”
“Will you be coming back?”
