unnatural.” Her smile disappeared. Her eyes lowered, she bent toward him slightly to slip the panties down past her hips, then stepped out of them, naked.
Carey was gripped with self-loathing. He did not belong here, listening to this nonsense and watching this woman strip. He stood up abruptly, then moved to the couch. He saw her smile return and the lids of her eyes go down like the eyes of a purring cat. “You’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen in my life,” he said. “You’re funny, clever, and very persuasive. If I were ever going to cheat on my wife, this would have been the time.” He snatched the pile of clothes off the cushion of the couch and tossed them to her. “Now get dressed and go home.”
He walked to the dining room and began to carry dishes out to the kitchen and set them on the counter. On his third trip into the dining room, he heard some rustling sounds, then the front door closing. He closed his eyes, took five deep breaths, poured another glass of champagne, and drank it down. Then he went to the living room and looked: yes, she had left his key on the end table.
28
Jane found a shelf above the trail that was sheltered by big rocks on the north and west, where the cold mountain wind was coming from. “This is a good place,” she said. “Does it look homey to you?”
Pete stopped and looked up at it doubtfully. “I could keep going for a while,” he offered.
“We’ve come at least eight or nine miles in the dark,” she said. “We might run out of steam in the middle of an ice field or on a mountaintop, and then be worth nothing by the time we find another safe spot. That’s how you get hurt.”
“Sold,” he said. “Should I build a fire?”
“The rocks will protect us well enough from the wind.” She reached into his pack and handed him his knife. “Go collect boughs from the fir trees down there. Not branches, just the soft parts near the tips. I’ll get us unpacked.”
Pete carefully made his way down onto the trail, then disappeared into the trees. In a moment she heard the whispery sound of pine boughs tossed onto a pile.
She had wanted Pete to be gone while she used her flashlight and a forked stick to search the cracks and crannies along the rock shelf. It was the sort of place where a rattlesnake would curl up to get out of the cold, then sun itself in the daytime. When she was satisfied that they would be alone, she searched the packs for the items they would need and laid them out.
Pete labored up the little path carrying a pile of boughs the size of a hay bale, dropped them on the rock, and saw her sitting cross-legged in front of a group of small packages. “What’s that?”
“Canned beef, biscuits, dried fruit, and nuts,” she said. “The bad news is that it’s dinner. The good news is that if we eat it, we don’t have to carry it.”
“You should have been in marketing.” He sat down across from her and imitated her as she opened cans with her Swiss Army knife. He took a bite of meat and a bite of biscuit. “It’s kind of frightening. That stuff they’ve been saying about fresh air and exercise all these years could be true. This actually tastes good.”
When they had finished, Jane stood up, sealed the empty cans and packages into a plastic bag, and put it in her knapsack. “More bad news: the garbage truck isn’t due until a road is built—figure a thousand years or so. We have to pack the trash out with us.” She looked at the pile of pine boughs. “Time to go to bed. Watch carefully.”
She spread the boughs like a mat on the rocky shelf, then laid one of the waterproof ponchos on top of it and set the other one aside. “Unless it rains, most of the cold and damp comes from below.”
Jane took off her jacket and boots and propped the boots under the rock shelf. “Your boots need to dry out while you sleep or you’ll get blisters. You put them in a place where you can reach them and rain can’t. You wear as little as possible while you’re in your sleeping bag, and an insulated jacket makes a great pillow.” She pulled her watch cap on. “This helps. You lose most of your heat through your head, so it’ll keep you warm.”
She fiddled with the zippers of the sleeping bags for a moment, then zipped the two bags together and slipped inside. “You sleep on that side, where you’re farther out of the wind. Your blood is probably still thin from living in the desert.”
Pete sat at the foot of the sleeping bags and looked up at her while he arranged his boots and jacket and put on his hat.
She could feel him staring at her in the darkness, trying to read her mind. She sighed, then said in the kindest voice she could summon, “No, I haven’t.”
“Haven’t what?”
“Changed my mind about … anything. All I want is your body heat. This is the way to sleep if you want to be warm without a fire.”
“Sure,” he said. “I’ve heard that somewhere.”
He carefully slipped in beside her, holding himself in a straight, rigid position so far from her that a cold breeze blew under the taut surface of the sleeping bag and chilled her toes. She laughed. “I’ll tell you what. If this is too weird, we’ll each go it on our own. I don’t think we’ll freeze tonight.”
“No, no,” he said. “It just takes a certain mental … what’s the word? Insensitivity.” He nodded sagely. “I can manage that.”
“Good,” she said. After a long silence she said, “But if I wake up with a hand on my ass, I’m going to pinch it. The one who says ‘ouch’ had better be me.”
It worked. She heard him shifting on the bed of boughs and then felt the sleeping bag regain some of its slack and warm her back. She closed her eyes and listened to the wind blowing past above her head and the sounds of trees moving back and forth, whispering like the sea. In a moment she was asleep.
She was not cold anymore. She felt the hot, mild breeze where her skin was exposed to the air, then sank lazily beneath the surface. The warm water supported her, made her feel as though she were flying. She slowly, effortlessly glided above the bottom of the pool, the light resistance of the black water running along her body like a warm touch.
She looked up at the silvery underside of the surface, saw the bright moon wavering above it, and let herself rise up to meet it.
She came to the surface and took in the first dry, sweet breath, then let her muscles relax and floated. She was in suspension now, drifting passively, waiting. She reveled in the knowledge that he was sure to be here, and fretted, teasing herself with the lie that he would not.
She heard the water sloshing somewhere behind her head and looked up at the moon, her body going tense with anticipation and longing. When his big arm slipped around her waist, she let out a gasp that was certitude and joy and laughter at the same time. She let him pull her close. She could feel his chest against her back, his lips softly kissing the back of her neck. She leaned her head back on his shoulder. He was strong and gentle, and warmer than the water. She could feel his hands moving, never leaving her body, instead touching her lovingly everywhere from her scalp to the tips of her toes, the hands returning, lingering on each of the places she would never have let him touch.
He slowly turned her around and she looked into his eyes. There was no question in them, no uncertainty that would force her to speak. They did not have to talk, because they had been through this before, and he had somehow sensed this time that her answer had changed. She had just misspoken, forgotten on that other night that this was all right. The first kiss was slow, their lips drawn together and barely meeting at first, then staying together. She let it go on as long as she could bear it, feeling so safe, being cradled in his arms and cherished.
She slipped the straps of her bathing suit off her shoulders, then took his hand and made him peel it down and off. Pete’s bathing suit came off too, or maybe it was already off. They embraced again in the warm, dark water, and this time it was so much better, with the water tickling the exposed skin to remind her it was bare. She felt so free that she was surprised at how constricted and uncomfortable she must have been before. She and Pete floated weightlessly, and something about the motion of the water seemed to make them drift together.
She let herself savor the moment, the world so dark and quiet around her, but her feelings so bright and hot
