by Kim Baldwin
*
Megan lay on her back on a smooth rock the size and shape of a sports car, her eyes closed, while a short distance away, her five friends and the two guides prepared to get underway.
Seven kayaks and one large raft were lined up along the shore of the Odakonya at a place where the river was wide and shallow and flat, meandering through a long valley of muskeg and low, scrubby spruce trees. The pilot had landed in the middle of the river, the fat front tires of the plane bouncing them along on a wide gravel sandbar.
The weather could not have been more perfect for the start of their adventure: seventy-four degrees with a light breeze. In every direction, the awesome spectacle of snowy peaks starkly outlined against the deep blue cloudless sky behind.
They were all in high spirits and anxious to get underway. Everyone but Megan, who had puked her coffee and toast into her airsickness bag in the Twin Otter on the way over. The turbulence in the little plane had exacerbated a stomach already in upheaval over memories of the past.
“Are you feeling any better?”
She hadn’t heard anyone approach. She was glad it was Sally and not Chaz. “Yes, a bit. Are we all ready to go?”
“Pretty much, but we’re not on a schedule. If you’d like to spend more time here so your stomach can settle…”
“No, I’m all right.” She sat up slowly. “I don’t want to hold everyone up.” The raft was loaded, all the gear tied in, and everyone was putting on their spray skirts and PFDs. Chaz was looking right at her from the water’s edge, forty feet away.
“Will you help me with my spray skirt?” she asked Sally as she pushed off the rock and headed toward the group.
“Sure.” Sally followed her to her boat and got her situated, and soon they were on the river.
They settled into a lazy pace, rarely paddling, enjoying the view and letting the gentle current sweep them along. Megan kept to the rear, about as far away as she could be from Chaz.
It wasn’t long before they got their first glimpse of some of the wildlife they’d been promised. A bald eagle, following the course of the Odakonya, soared low over their kayaks, looking for fish, allowing them all a close-up view of his magnificent white head and tail.
Megan and most of the other clients had been talking in low voices until then, remarking on the scenery and telling stories of past vacations, but the eagle stunned them into silence. Then they could hear that the air was alive with subtle but constant bird songs—juncos and myrtle warblers, gray-cheeked thrushes and tree sparrows.
Megan spotted a couple of Arctic ground squirrels playing tag on the bank, a muskrat swimming next to the shoreline, and several hawks, flying so high she had no hope of identifying them. She drifted very near a male rock ptarmigan, starkly contrasted in its winter plumage against the brown grass alongshore. They stay white to distract predators from the nest, she’d read. The females turn brown. She was excited to be able to identify so many animals that she’d never seen before. It was an eminently satisfying use of her considerable research.
A bit farther on, Chaz, in the lead, slowed her kayak until all the others were grouped up and able to see her. Then she pointed her paddle blade at one of the nearest mountains—its base rose from the tundra a half mile away.
Megan couldn’t decipher for the longest time what she was pointing at. She had excellent eyesight, but she didn’t see them until one of the Dall rams took off on a run up the steep slope. Then she could see them all, a scattering of white sheep among the gray and tan granite rock behind. Specks at this distance. How the hell did she see them?
They stopped for sandwiches and chips at a spot on the river where a wide gravel bar offered a perfect parking spot for the kayaks and a chance to stretch their legs. Most sat atop their decks, but Pat and Linda sat side by side, leaning up against their boats.
“What’s that?” Elise asked, pointing to a flash of movement in the clear emerald water.
Elise had, Megan noticed, managed to park her kayak right next to Chaz’s, and had been flirting openly with the guide all through lunch. She asked Chaz what every single bird and plant and animal and tree in sight was. And damn if that woman couldn’t answer every single question, too. Their exchanges were really starting to get under her skin.
“Those are grayling,” Chaz answered, with the same patience she had every one of Elise’s incessant queries. “Hopefully we’ll have some for dinner one night.”
“I love a woman who can cook,” Elise said.
I’m going to go nuts if I have to listen to this for two weeks. How is it that in all the times we’ve gone cruising together, I never realized that Elise is quite so painfully, dreadfully obvious.
“We do eat well,” Chaz agreed. “Menus are a high priority.”
So you’re deflecting her flirtations, for the most part anyway. Aren’t you interested? I know you’re one of us. Aren’t you?
“Man, I can tell I’m going to be sore tomorrow,” Justine said, getting creakily to her feet. She arched her back with a groan, then rolled her shoulders to loosen them up. “I should definitely get more exercise.”
“No lie. This sure reminds me about some stomach and back muscles I don’t use very much,” Yancey added.
And shoulders. And arms. Megan didn’t want to admit aloud that she was feeling it, too. She’d thought she was in pretty good shape, but decided tennis and golf must use different muscle groups. And you’ve been working so much, you really haven’t played that much the last year or so.
“I think I’m beginning to see why you invited me along,” Elise said.
“Oh, yeah! I get first dibs tonight!” Pat raised her hand.
“Me second!” Linda chimed in.
“Not fair! You two do this all the time. You don’t need her like we do,” Yancey said.
“Let me state right up front that I’m not doing all of you every night,” Elise said.
“Maybe we should draw straws or pick numbers or something,” Justine suggested.
“Can someone clue me in on what’s going on?” Sally asked.
“Before she became a graphic artist, our dear, sweet, charming Elise went to massage therapy school,” Pat said.
“Sucking up will do you no good. I’m still only doing two or three of you a day, max.” Elise turned to look at Chaz. “You can get in on this, you know,” she said invitingly. “You and Sally,” she amended.
“I’m in,” Sally said immediately.
Megan watched Chaz, waiting for a response. Don’t do it. Picturing Elise with her hands on Chaz was not an image she liked very much at all.
Chaz neither accepted nor declined. She merely stood and stretched—slowly, languidly, a contented smile on her face. Looking every bit, Megan thought, like a pampered cat getting up from a nap, like they hadn’t already been paddling three hours on the river. Like this was no exertion at all for her.
Chaz looked up at the sky as if judging the position of the sun and announced, “Everybody ready? There’s a great campsite about another three hours downriver.”
You’re nice to watch, Megan admitted. Much too damn nice to watch.
After another hour or so, the river began to split into channels, some wide, some narrow—fingers separated by swampy tussocks of earth or wide, pale gray gravel bars. The group all followed Chaz like ducklings behind their mother, with Sally bringing up the rear in the raft, and eventually all the fingers of the river seemed to join up again.
Megan was halfway up the line of kayaks by then, quite a bit closer to the front than before. Not enough to have to make conversation with Chaz, but close enough to get a first-rate view of the guide. She didn’t look much like Rita at the moment. Rita never looked this good from the back.
In the warmth of the afternoon sun, Chaz had peeled off her outer shirt and was wearing only a tank top under her PFD, allowing all those behind her a splendid view of her well-developed and wonderfully tanned shoulders and arms as she paddled her smooth, effortless strokes. Poetry
in motion. So that’s what that phrase means.
Several of them had been jockeying for position since the shirt had come off, none of them too overtly, of course. Megan had moved up, and so had Justine. And Elise seemed determined to keep the spot behind Chaz that she’d held most of the day.
The river led them very near a low, wide mountain with a big splotch of green limestone on the side. They saw more sheep there, close enough this time that with binoculars they could pick out the big curved horns on the rams. Chaz had encouraged them to keep their binoculars always close at hand. It was easy in this wide, gentle current to put down their paddles for a moment now and then. They began automatically reaching for theirs when she reached for hers, following her eyes, never disappointed.
The hours passed quickly, they were all so absorbed in the awesome views, in every direction, ever changing with each stroke of their paddles. Not a landscape to be rushed through. Mountains, mountains, mountains, and wide plains of tundra meadows dotted with dark pools of placid water and interlaced with a dazzling mosaic of lichens and mosses and wildflowers.
She was guessing, having only colors to go on and not the details of blossoms and shapes of leaves, but Megan thought the wide swaths of pinkish-purple flowers she was seeing must be fireweed—the guidebook said it was ubiquitous in Alaska.
It was such an immense and endless landscape of wilderness that it began to unsettle her. She was the center of the universe at WNC; the newsroom revolved around her, and she was in total control of everything. Her words moved mountains. But out here…all bets were off. You can’t control this place. Get lost out here and you’re in some damn serious trouble. It was frightening, but exhilarating too. Like she was living on the edge of danger instead of just reporting about it.
She hadn’t seen any sign at all that another human being had ever been this way before. But Chaz was here, she remembered. She took the caribou picture on this river. For the first time it occurred to her. Who was with you when you took that? Who did you share that with? Sally?
There were more trees than she’d imagined she’d see this far north—forests of spruce and thickets of dwarf birch and alder and willow. They were coming up on one now, an area of dense conifers with an undergrowth of spongy green moss, and Chaz was pulling off, beaching her kayak.
“We’re stopping here!” she called as she waved them over.
It was a delightful spot, Megan had to admit, with the soft sphagnum to cushion their sleeping bags. Through the trees, a short distance away, she could see a small lake shimmering in the sun.
Once they had shed their life jackets and spray skirts, Chaz laid out the camp: the area for the tents, where the food prep and cooking would be done, and the designated bathroom area—over a small rise for privacy and away from the water.
“We have two-person tents,” Sally said, taking four identical navy blue tent bags out of a large compactor garbage bag and lining them up near the area where they would spend the night. “Since you’re all friends, we’re assuming you can decide how you want to divvy up the sleeping arrangements.”
“Linda and I will take one.” Pat plucked bag number one.
“Megan? How ‘bout it?” Justine asked, glancing her way as she reached for number two.
“Sure, that sounds great.”
“That leaves me with the masseuse.” Yancey ruffled the spiky dark hair on Elise’s head as she passed by her to pick up the third bag. “You all didn’t think very smart on that choice, my friends.”
Elise smiled at the compliment, but her eyes hadn’t left Chaz since they’d beached the boats. “Well, we can always change the sleeping arrangements at any time, if someone wants a little variety, can’t we?”
Here we go again. Though it was increasingly obvious that Chaz was not exactly jumping at the chance to take Elise up on her blatant, nonstop flirtations. More and more, Megan began to wonder why. She was fairly certain Chaz was gay. I swear I caught you checking me out for a second during that rolling lesson. So, what is it, then? Are you involved with somebody, or just not interested in Elise?
*
Nearly simultaneous shrieks from the tent area 200 feet away brought Chaz to her feet and instantly alert, but the familiar laughter that followed quickly reassured her that it was merely Sally’s traditional opening night prank of assorted artificial spiders, hidden in the tent folds and among the poles and stakes. She relaxed back down on the rock she’d been sitting on and resumed preparations for their dinner. Shortly thereafter, she spotted Linda and Pat approaching.
“Oh, come on, honey.” Pat’s voice rang with amusement. “You know there are no tarantulas in Alaska. Chaz even warned us this would happen.”
“So I forgot. And you better stop teasing me about it if you want any nookie tonight.” Linda tried to sound annoyed, but Chaz could see she was pretending.
Nookie in the next tent. Not that it hadn’t happened before on trips; she and Sally sometimes had a hard time stifling their laughter over what they overheard a few feet away. Growing up in a commune, Chaz had thought she’d heard it all when it came to sounds made during sex. But apparently “doing it” in the wilds of Alaska brought out the beast in some people. They’d had clients growl, and snort, and howl, and one guy even yodeled a little. But they’d never overheard two women making love. Thinking about it sent an unexpected ripple of arousal through her.
“I think it’s hysterical that you have no qualms at all about jumping out of an airplane or going into a war zone, but a tiny spider gets you all unnerved. I didn’t think you were afraid of anything.” Pat sat down near Chaz and leaned back against a large boulder. When she reached up and took Linda’s hand, Linda allowed herself to be drawn down into the cradle of Pat’s arms.
“So what else is Sally going to pull on us, hmm?” Linda asked, as she settled comfortably between Pat’s legs and reclined back against her lover’s chest. Pat ran her hands slowly through Linda’s curly brown hair, and Linda closed her eyes and groaned in approval.
“She’d kill me if I told you all her tricks,” Chaz responded with a smile, as she made up a rub of fresh tarragon, thyme, and garlic for the night’s main course.
“Anything we can do to help with dinner?” Linda offered.
“Got it covered, thanks. So how do you like everything so far?”
“Amazing place you’ve got here,” Linda said. “Breathtaking.”
“I’ll second that. We’re already planning to come back. Do you live in Alaska?” Pat asked.
“Yes. Outside Fairbanks,” Chaz answered.
Elise joined them, taking a seat on a rock next to Chaz. “And what do you do in Fairbanks?”
“Teach,” Chaz said.
“A teacher? Ah, beautiful and brainy,” Elise remarked.
“You know, you really are incorrigible.” Chaz couldn’t help but be a bit flattered by the attention, even if she would never in a million years consider a liaison with Elise. The woman certainly was attractive, though.
“That’s what they tell me.” Elise reached over to steal a dried cranberry from a small bowl at Chaz’s feet. “So, what’s on the menu for tonight, mademoiselle chef?”
“Grilled pork tenderloin with an herb rub, served with a cranberry rice pilaf and Caesar salad,” Chaz replied. “And for dessert, chocolate cake with bourbon chocolate sauce.”
Pat whistled approvingly.
“This sure isn’t roughing it.” Elise stole another cranberry. “I kind of expected hot dogs or something.”
“The menu is courtesy of my son, Nathan,” Sally told them as she ambled up, the others not far behind. “He’s a sous chef at the moment, but hoping to get his own restaurant soon.”
“I’m so glad not to have to be the one cooking for a change that I’d be happy with absolutely anything,” Yancey said, setting up a small portable camp chair.
“I could eat cardboard with this view,” Justine agreed. “The light is so wonderful here. It seems altogether different than in Chicago.
”
Linda smiled. “I noticed that, too. It’s got this soft glow to it. Kind of…ethereal.”
“Very romantic, I think,” Pat said, nuzzling Linda’s neck.
“You two find everything romantic,” Megan groaned. “It’s the angle of the sun, that’s all.”
“Come on, Megan. You don’t find this to be the most romantic setting on earth? Are you blind?” Linda looked disbelieving. “Surely you haven’t been cooped up in that office so long that you’re not appreciating all this?”
“It’s great, it’s great,” Megan hastily agreed. “I’m only saying that when you’re newly in lust, like you two, everywhere is paradise.”
“Love, Megan,” Pat corrected her with only a gentle hint of reproach. “Newly in love, though I’ll readily admit that my whole world and everything in it got brighter when I met Linda.”
Pat hugged Linda tightly to her as she spoke. At the look of such pure bliss and devotion that passed between them, Chaz felt a momentary pang of envy over the glimpse of what she might be missing. She glanced at Megan. You sound like such a cynic about love. Why is that? And why does it seem to matter to me?
She kept trying to tell herself that she was imagining things. But by the time they finished cleaning up the supper dishes, Chaz was convinced that Megan had something against her personally. It was like last night’s dinner back at the lodge. Around absolutely everyone else, she was fine. Relaxed. Talkative. But the moment I get within earshot she goes all quiet. And she seems to go out of her way to avoid sitting close to me or interacting with me in any way.
She tried to tell herself it shouldn’t matter as long as Megan was enjoying herself, which she evidently was. But her pep talks to herself weren’t helping. Megan’s behavior was starting to really drive her crazy. Got to find some way to get her to warm up to me.
The clients turned in early, beat from the day’s exertions. Elise gave massages to Pat and Linda in their tent after much pleading and begging, but all was quiet about the campsite by nine thirty. Feeling restless, Chaz climbed a nearby hill and sat with a cup of decaf, watching the landscape turn pink in the alpenglow effect of the midnight sun. She thought Sally had also retired for the night, but her partner guide appeared with a mug of her own and reclined comfortably beside her.
