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 regretted 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 sheused 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.
5
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
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 regretted 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 sheused 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.
5
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
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