by Karen Harper
"The sun..." she whispered, suddenly opening her eyes and blinking into its brightness, her mind evidently wandering again. She looked slit-eyed at him before she seemed to almost swoon in his arms. Her pupils were huge. Could she have a concussion? That would explain her thinking she was pushed.
He gave her a tiny shake to keep her conscious, happy to change the subject from what would be, in a court of law, attempted murder. "Yes, summer Alaska sun. Our own northern light," he said.
Even so, he knew it would be shifting away soon, and it would be a cold night on the ledge. When would Christine or Spike or someone else realize they were gone? What would they think? Even if someone figured out they needed rescuing, no way could they be spotted by an airplane here or be helped if someone didn't tackle that damned dangerous river. Even if the sheriff came from Talkeetna or Spike and Christine summoned a search party from nearby little Bear Bones, the two of them were on their own.
"So, do you need any help?" came the melodious female voice.
Hearing the tap-tap of heeled boots on the pine floor, Christine turned from setting the table to see another of the guests, Vanessa Guerena, come in from the wooden deck overlooking the lake. She'd been out there, pacing like a caged cat, as if waiting for someone to arrive or something to happen.
From their first introduction, Christine had admired Vanessa's appearance--sleek figure, shiny, shoulder-length ebony hair, bronzed skin and flashing, dark eyes. In another world, they could have passed for Yup'ik cousins with the same height and build. Christine guessed the woman must be about her age, thirty-five or so. But Vanessa reeked self-confidence and charisma, the words Spike had used to describe her. He'd probably had to pick his jaw up off the ground when he first saw Vanessa.
But size, skin and hair was about where it ended for her and Vanessa's similarities. With her suede boots and her butterscotch-colored leather knee-length pants and jacket--in this warm weather, no less--she looked so dressed up next to Christine's running shoes, jeans and layered T-shirt top. For everyone else, including the obviously wealthy Bonners, denim was the name of the fashion game around here. Maybe Vanessa hadn't gotten the message about how to pack for the land of remote fly-in lodges and cabins in America's "last frontier."
Vanessa's pent-up energy and jumpiness made her stand out. The woman's Cuban heritage and temper, which Christine had noted when she'd seen her arguing with Jonas from a distance earlier, was a far cry from a Yup'ik personality. Yet Christine saw Vanessa had a good side, what the Yup'ik called catngu, the gift of friendliness and helpfulness. Had she been hanging around the back of the lodge just waiting to help out? Maybe she thought being prompt would impress the Bonners, when they hadn't even come downstairs yet. Or was she lurking around, maybe trying to keep an eye on her competition for Mitch's old job?
"I'm just fine, but thanks for the offer," she told Vanessa. "You just make yourself at home. Go ahead and enjoy some of these appetizers. I'm sure the others will be here soon, and you don't have to wait for them."
"Thanks," she said, shoving her hands in the pockets of her jacket. "So, have you seen Mitch?"
"Not for a while."
"Lisa?"
"Briefly."
"Were they together? Oh, sorry, too used to interrogating potential witnesses, I guess," Vanessa said with a little shrug and smile.
Christine nodded and went back out in the kitchen for more food. She glanced out the window down the path toward the lake landing. No Mitch, when she was expecting--wanting--him back.
She carried the last plate of appetizers to the table. Now Vanessa was pacing inside, pretending to look out the big bubble window. When she saw Christine was back, she said, "I didn't want to miss anything, but I've got to get my exercise in, since my appetite's gone as wild as the woods up here."
When Christine put the last plate of food down, the woman came over and pounced on it. "I hope I burn off these calories with everything Mitch has planned," she said, pouring herself a glass of Chardonnay to accompany her full plate. "Jonas said he's ready for more of your delicious deep-forest fare, too."
Christine was willing to bet both of them--Lisa Vaughn, too--had been just plain hungry for Mitch's old position since he left the law firm. But, yes, where in all creation was Mitch? And, as Vanessa had asked, where was Lisa?
All Lisa wanted to do was sleep, to get lost in the arms of warm, lazy sleep. She must be on the beach because a canvas cabana covered her head and wrapped around her. She loved the sun but knew too much of it on her skin could be dangerous, even deadly. Dangerous...deadly...just get warm. So sore and exhausted...Just stay warm and go to sleep...sleep...
Someone shook her, held her. A lifeguard? Was a lifeguard here because a big wave had hit her?
A man with a deep, raspy voice said, "Lisa, I said you have to keep moving your arms and legs. Wiggle your fingers and toes."
She dragged her heavy eyelids open. Mitch. Mitch on the beach with her. No, there were tall stone walls, and she could hear the roaring surf. But this wasn't Florida. "I guess we're not in Kansas anymore," Dorothy said to Toto after the tornado had picked her up and spun her silly. Lisa tried to do what Mitch said, what the good witch told Dorothy to do to get home. She tried to click the heels of her sparkly shoes together and make a wish but she had no shoes, and her feet were so cold....
Someone shook her again. Mitch. Mitch was here.
"Lisa, listen to me. I wish we were back at the lodge but we're not." He shook her shoulders and squeezed her tighter to him. "You fell in the river. You are hypothermic and you have to get warm. Drink more of this and move your arms and legs."
It took great effort, but she obeyed. Sore, so sore. But she swallowed a warm, fizzy drink. Champagne? No bottles or glasses were allowed on the beach.
Then she really remembered. Back at the lodge, outside on the lake landing path, she'd been waiting for Mitch. Looking at the roiling water and almost seeing Mother and Jani there, Mother's face staring up at her through the river foam. And then--
She jolted alert in his arms. Someone had pushed her in! Hadn't they? No way she had fallen or jumped just because she was thinking about Mother and Jani. Surely Mitch had not pushed her, then rescued her, so he could be a hero, so he could win her back. No, wishful thinking, wishing upon a star. There's no place like home, there's no place like home. Home was where your loved ones were. But her loved ones had been swallowed by all that raging white water.
A second jolt shot through her, cosmic compared to anything else except the initial impact of that freezing water. She was in Mitch's arms, in some sort of bed, and they were both naked.
She tried to sit up. He pulled her back down. Where were they? What had they done? No, no, Mitch was right. She fell in the river, and he must have come after her, saved her. But she fell because she was pushed. But by whom and why?
She went rigid against him. "I'm better, warmer. You can let me go." She didn't sound like herself. Her lips were swollen and bruised. She was almost mumbling, stuttering.
"I'd like to believe that, but you were close to comatose. You've only been out of the river for about two hours."
"I--th-thank you. You came in a b-boat?"
"I chased you in the kayak that we were going to take across the lake."
"Oh." She tried to process that. Yes, they'd agreed to have a talk, but now this.
"M-Mitch, someone pushed me in the river. I fell down the bank and rolled, but someone pushed me first."
"You said that."
"Don't you believe me?" It came out as Don't you leave me.
"When we get back, we'll look into it. I did see the stuff Christine packed for us strewn down the bank toward the river. Why didn't you go down to the lake landing to wait for me? Didn't you see or hear anyone?"
"Hear them, with the roar of the river? I--I was just looking at the salmon in the water. My mind is working all right now. I'm better," she said, shifting away again. She wanted to remember what had happened, but not feel t
he hopeless panic, the fear of riding the river. Was her memory messed up like her mind?
And Mitch--he felt more solid than she recalled, so good, warm and strong with rock-hard muscles like the ledge under her. Had Alaska done that to him? Yes, he'd looked more bulked up when she'd seen him yesterday after an entire year apart. If it wasn't a crazy idea, she'd almost think his new life had made him taller, too.
"I'll see if your clothes are dry, and we'll get the wet suit on you for warmth, too," he said. "The little cookstove may warm your hands, but don't be in too much of a rush to get up. The shock of it--you'll come back slowly and may have some scrambled thoughts."
That's for sure, she told herself, but demanded, "You don't believe I was pushed in?"
"It's good you're getting angry at me. That will get your blood and temp up--and besides, that's more like picking up where we left off, isn't it?"
"That's all past now. I can't thank you enough for risking the river to come after me. Can't I just get d-dressed, curl up and sleep for a while? I'm so exhausted. It's a trauma for both of us."
"Sure has been, and not just this river ride. But no, you can't just go to sleep yet. I'm not the doctor in my family, but I know a hypothermic victim shouldn't do that--too dangerous for a while. I think it's like having a concussion. My clothes were soaked, too, and you needed core body heat badly, so if you're wondering why we're both undressed in here--"
"I knew that. See, I'm compos mentis again." She had to fight very hard to form thoughts and words. It was like groping for something in the dark. "Thank you, but I'm all r-right now. And if you're thinking I did really fall in, or just trip--or if you're thinking what you know about my mother, it isn't that. Someone pushed me, and I can think of at least two people with motives, maybe more. I wasn't halluc...hallucinating...."
Her voice trailed off as her thoughts swirled again. Or had she been? Had she actually been pushed in, or had that river lured her, seduced her because, after all was said and done, little Lisa had actually wanted to be with Mommy and Jani? Was little Lisa still terrified that she had sent them right over the edge?
Even though she hadn't seen her psychiatrist, Dr. Sloan, for years, she heard his voice. "You have to get over the idea you should have died with them or that you caused their fall. I know you blame yourself for not realizing your mother was so sick, but you were just a child. It wasn't your fault. None of it was your fault."
Mitch's voice broke into the memory. "Lisa, can you hear me? Your eyelids fluttered, and you looked as if you were going to pass out again."
"Only to sleep. I need to sleep."
"Me, too, but no. We're miles overland from the lodge and help--from any civilization--so we're going to have to hike out of here. Just rest here a few more minutes. I'll get dressed first, if my stuff's dry. But keep your eyes open and keep talking."
"I--I don't have shoes to hike. The river took them."
"I know. I'll make you some from our extra PFD, tape pieces of it around your feet."
"Wow, a guy who understands how girls love shoes."
He actually chuckled as he moved out of their warm little cocoon. She caught a glimpse of skin and curly, black chest hair. The cold air slammed in on her, and she fumbled to pull the canvas cover closed. But his laugh had warmed her. That and the fact he told her to keep her eyes open while he crawled out naked on the ledge to get dressed. But she didn't want to give him the idea she cared about him that way, so she pulled the canvas bag closer around her and turned away.
Just business--and survival--between them now. She had to be strong to help get them out of here and so that he could give a good report on her to the Bonners. At the very least they would think she was a klutz for falling in the river. Would they all think she was crazy if she claimed someone had pushed her? Maybe she should tell Mitch she had just imagined it, not tell people what had really happened. Then she could investigate who could have pushed her, set someone up for a confession--or, God forbid, another attempt to eliminate her. But who would be that desperate to get rid of her?
But then another thought drifted in. Maybe the person didn't think she'd really fall in the river, just wanted to warn her or shake her up. But why? Maybe it wasn't just Jonas or Vanessa who had motive, means and opportunity to shove her down a clearing toward the river.
On Spike Jackson's plane, flying in from Anchorage to the lodge yesterday, she remembered a strange exchange between him and the Bonners. "So this is some kind of a marathon or endurance test for your candidates?" Spike had asked Graham. Strapped in next to Lisa, Vanessa had strained forward to hear what Graham said over the loud hum of the plane's single engine.
"Sure, a test of sorts, both with the activities Mitch has on tap for us and some others we have planned," Graham had said. "We'll have some group endeavors, some individual efforts."
Jonas had joked from the single jump seat in the back, next to the pile of luggage, "Like pitting us against an Alaskan bear or wolf in a deep-woods arena?"
"Nonsense," Ellie Bonner had piped up. From her place next to Spike in the copilot's seat, she'd twisted around to face the rest of them. "This is not some face-your-worst-fears, Survivor-like game show. Graham and I want you to enjoy yourselves and focus on what are essentially bonding, not competitive experiences."
"Just so long as she didn't say 'bondage,'" Jonas had whispered from the backseat so only Vanessa and Lisa could hear.
But could the Bonners have planned some sort of face-your-worst-fear survival test, and hers just got out of hand? Several years ago, after she came to know and trust both of them, she'd confided in them about her childhood tragedy and trauma over dinner at their home.
No. No, she scolded herself. She had to fight being paranoid, had to fight to show everyone she deserved the senior partner position and that she didn't want Mitch anymore. Maybe bringing her to face Mitch was really her endurance test, and now, here she was, alone with him and dependent on him. Surely the Bonners--or Mitch--could not have planned or wanted that.
Her head snapped down, then jerked up. She'd almost nodded off, but he hadn't seen. He was her rescuer, the one who knew the wilds, so for now she would try hard to do what Mitch said. She chatted, even chattered, tried to answer his questions about how she felt. She was bruised and battered all over but grateful no bones were broken. She was absolutely aching for sleep. But she had to cooperate so he could get them back to civilization, back to safety at the lodge. But, since--if--someone had pushed her, was it really civilized or safe there?
4
M
itch knew they had to get off the ledge. He had planned to spend the night here, but if he made Lisa get up and walk, she'd have to stay awake. He was also exhausted and feared he'd fall asleep. The worst scenario was that he'd have to hike out for help alone, but no way could he leave her near the river that could have killed her. Besides, when he explored, edging along a narrow curve of cliff face, he was excited to discover a cleft in the gorge rocks, one he could even glimpse sky through. On one side of the cleft was a ledge where they could make their way out. From flying over the area with Spike, he knew that beyond these rocks lay not only muskeg, a shallow bog, but dry tundra. And he knew that, because of the contour of the land near the lodge, it would take them days to hike directly back to the west.
So if they could get beyond this gorge, they would go east, then ford the river below the falls where it was divided into braided streams that were much more shallow. The salmon had easier going there, and they would, too. On the other side of the Wild River was a dirt access road, which might have some traffic from fishermen or hunters who could give them a ride back home. But he wouldn't tell Lisa all that right now. Finally, he was making decisions for her as he had for so many others.
But, unfortunately, like a few other clients Mitch had defended, he questioned if she was a trustworthy witness of what had actually happened to her. He just couldn't accept Lisa's claim she'd been pushed into the river. Who at the lodge would be tha
t desperate and dangerous? Opportunity for that must have been pure chance, and what would be a motive? Surely not just this competition among colleagues the Bonners had set up.
If Lisa had hit her head in a tumble down the slope near the lodge, she could have just thought she was pushed--or be lying about it so she didn't look careless or reckless to him and the Bonners. No, she wouldn't be that devious to gain sympathy, even if she'd always been ambitious.
Granted, she had been haunted by the drowning deaths of her mother and baby sister for years. He was sure, though she'd denied it, she'd been suicidal years ago, survivor's guilt and all that. But to think of her jumping in of her own accord was as crazy as the idea she'd been pushed.
Whatever had happened to get her in the Wild River, they had to risk the ledge over the chasm to get away from it right now. Even if rescuers rafted or kayaked down the river after them, their attempting to land on the ledge where they were hemmed in could be deadly, or they might shoot right on by toward the falls.
"Lisa!" He hurried back to her. She sat slumped on the ledge with her back to the rock face. Upset she'd fallen asleep even sitting up, he shook her shoulders. "I see a way we can walk out. I think we should go now, since we've lost the sun on the ledge. And if the river rises even more, we'd get more than wet here. I'm going to fill our empty cans with water and get things together. Can you get dressed by yourself?"
"Yes. Yes, of course," she insisted, sounding and looking annoyed right back at him. "I'm just f--"
"Don't you dare say you're fine!"
"And don't try to read my mind! I'm just feeling a bit funny but more alert--that's what I was going to say."
"Sorry I jumped to conclusions."
"Since you only saved my life today, you're forgiven--for that," she grumbled.
That warmed him, not only because her spirited response sounded more like her but that she was grateful. She'd thanked him already, but he'd felt so guilty for so long about throwing a fire bomb into her life and then leaving Florida, that maybe, just maybe, what he'd done here could begin to make up for it. Not that he wanted her back--for sure not that--but it might make him feel less of a heel. On the other hand, he thought, hardening his heart when he realized he wanted to hold her, if she'd really loved him in the first place, she'd have understood and maybe even come with him to Alaska, taken a leave of absence, or visited the lodge on her own--at least given it a shot. He sure wasn't the only one to blame for their breakup.
