River Rapture

by Vella Munn

  The line on Mr. Bishop’s phone rang, breaking Michon’s concentration. As he responded to the call Michon attempted to distract herself by looking around the room, but the conversation held her attention. Apparently Mr. Bishop was trying to convince the caller not to drop some class, but instead go to the teacher and ask for some private help. The student obviously had reservations about the teacher’s willingness to help, but finally agreed when Mr. Bishop offered to approach the teacher first.

  “Kids!” Mr. Bishop snorted as he hung up. “He’s holding onto a D by the skin of his teeth and he knows it. But he expects me to hold his hand for him.”

  “Maybe he feels you’re the only one who cares,” Michon offered. “Maybe he’s testing you.”

  “How?”

  “I’m not sure.” She shrugged. “I was just thinking that teenagers look more like adults than children, but inside they’re not as self-confident as they’d like people to think. When they wind up in a situation where they don’t feel in control they like knowing someone’s in their corner.”

  Mr. Bishop nodded. “You sound like you understand kids.”

  “I hope so.” Michon smiled. “When I was trying to find your office, I felt as if there was a generation gap between myself and the kids I saw, but it’s just that they look different from the way they did when I was their age. Today’s teens have the same emotions kids have always had. If adults can remember that, there doesn’t have to be a generation gap.”

  Mr. Bishop was studying her more closely than Michon wanted, but she was incapable of saying anything more. She’d bared her soul. Either he’d understand or he wouldn’t.

  The middle-aged teacher started slowly nodding his head. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “People who see that make the best teachers. Maybe you should have been one. I think you’d get a lot out of it. The truth is, that’s how I chose the students I wanted on the expedition. I wasn’t interested in someone simply because they were big and strong and wanted an excuse to get out of class for a week. I chose those who I felt could benefit personally from the experience.” He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head before continuing. “It’s funny, isn’t it? We’ve made our lives so comfortable that there aren’t any basic challenges left unless we go out of our way to seek them. I like that attitude in an individual. Besides, if you’re a friend of Chas’s that’s already a strong point in your favor.”

  Michon waited, barely breathing, feeling like a girl wanting to be asked out on her first date. He understood! Now, would he give her the answer that meant more than she believed it could?

  Mr. Bishop got to his feet, leaned across his desk, and stuck out his hand. “Welcome aboard, Miss Lycan. I think we’re going to work out. Besides, you’re going to make my wife awfully grateful. May I call you Michon? Please call me Harry. I hate Harold.”

  Michon laughed. “I hate being called Miss Lycan. When should I get in touch with you about what I need to do?”

  “That’s Chas’s department. You wouldn’t happen to be his girl friend, would you?”

  Michon shook her head. “No,” she said simply.

  “Pity. That’s one of the world’s good men.”

  Michon was still thinking about what Harry Bishop had said as she dropped by a fast-food stand to treat herself with a soft drink following the meeting at the school. So he considered Chas a good man. That’s what her instincts about Chas had said.

  Michon sat at a small table outside the stand, sipping her cool drink, letting everything sink in. She stared at her hands, noting the slight tremor to them. What was she thinking of? A canoe trip down the John Day River! What insanity had prompted her to talk to Harry? You’re scared to death, aren’t you old girl? she admitted. Paul is going to laugh you into the next county when he finds out, if he doesn’t send the men in the white coats and butterfly nets after you. And your mother will probably have a heart attack. All she wants is for you to get married like normal women. Why can’t you do that little thing for her?

  Michon already knew the answer to that. She wasn’t married because she hadn’t found the man she wanted to link her life with. A handsome face, healthy pocketbook, even someone capable of stilling her body’s restless urges, wasn’t enough.

  Her man, the man she was looking for had to have more. What? A spark. He had to understand why she was going crazy working at Chantilla, even when she didn’t know herself. He had to know why the sight of a full moon hanging clear and free above the night city filled her heart to the point where speech was impossible. He had to realize that there were nights when she didn’t want the television on, but would rather spend the evening hours in a darkened room listening to the stereo.

  If Michon ever married it would be to a man who was willing to build a birdhouse and spend money on feed for the winged residents, who realized that Worthless was worth everything to her because he was so free with his love.

  And the man she was looking for would know without being told that her greatest joy would come on the day she held their baby in her arms for the first time.

  That man wasn’t Paul.

  Michon was even more certain of that when she called Paul later that day to tell him what she’d been doing.

  “You’re crazy! You are certifiably crazy! What possessed you to do that? Look, I’m coming right over.”

  “Don’t!” she warned him, alarmed. Considering the mood she was in, the last thing she needed was a face-to-face confrontation with Paul. “My mind is made up. I’ve already told my boss. He’s giving me a two-week vacation.”

  “Wait a minute!” Paul exclaimed. “Now I get it. It’s me you want to get away from, isn’t it?”

  “No.” Michon almost laughed. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

  “Well, what do you expect me to think? I know you weren’t very happy with me the other day. I don’t think very much of your way of trying to get back at me.”

  “That isn’t it at all,” she tried, suddenly exhausted. What did it matter? Why should she try to explain things to a man who had no idea what was going on inside her? “Paul, I’m terribly restless these days. I feel as if I’m trying to crawl out of my skin. I need a change of scene, that’s all.”

  “That’s a poor excuse, if you want my opinion. Have you really thought about what you’re doing? You have no business going down a river in a canoe. Do you have any idea how insane that sounds? You’re going to kill yourself or at least break one of those fingernails you’re so proud of.”

  “To hell with my fingernails!” Michon snapped, surprised at the words coming from her mouth. “There have to be more important things in life than long fingernails.”

  “Like what?”

  Like finding out why I’m so dissatisfied with my life, Michon thought, but she didn’t tell Paul that. It would only start another endless circle of talk leading nowhere. Paul simply couldn’t understand that she could be filled with a nameless restlessness, and Michon no longer cared enough to try to spell it out for him. Besides, what was inside her was feelings, not words. “Paul, I have to hang up now,” she said, realizing how final her words were. “Worthless needs his dinner.”

  Paul spat out something unkind about her dog and slammed down the receiver. Michon felt no tears as she turned away from the phone.

  In fact Paul barely crossed her mind from then until the time, three days later, when she was back at the high school to meet with Harry Bishop and Chas to organize the trip. Her fleeting thought of Paul came as she was walking through the now silent corridors leading to Harry’s office. Paul hadn’t asked whether her interest in the John Day River had been sparked by some man. Michon had to answer that question for herself.

  As she stood with her hand on the door leading to Harry’s office, she knew. Or, at least, she suspected. Yes, Chas Carson had something, maybe a lot, to do with what she was doing. She wouldn’t be shaking right now if he’d gotten in touch with her since their one day together. She’d feel comfortable, kn
ow they were heading in the same direction. But he hadn’t called. Did that mean that the surge of emotion she felt in his presence was one-sided? Were his thoughts, his reactions wrapped up in the comment he’d made about once thinking he had everything he wanted? If he was referring to a woman—which she believed he was—did that mean that his heart still belonged to her?

  Michon threw back the hair she’d gone back to styling herself and shrugged the slender shoulders under her soft blue sweater. There was more, much more to Chas than hypnotic eyes. She hardly knew him well enough know what was going on inside him.

  And yet his kiss had filled her with the desire to know more.

  Chas was already in Harry’s office. The two men were on their knees on the floor surrounded by random piles of life preservers. Chas looked up, dark eyes registering a wary acceptance of her presence. “I didn’t believe Harry,” he said as she closed the door behind her. “I thought he was putting me on. But then I realized he wouldn’t know you from Adam unless you’d gotten in touch with him. I had no idea I’d done such a good sales job on the John Day.”

  “You disapprove?” Michon asked. She was learning that leaving her face free of powder and blusher allowed her emotions to register with more intensity. She wasn’t sure she was ready to give him that close a look at her thoughts. It felt so good to see him again! Did her expression register that?

  Chas shrugged under the skintight T-shirt bearing the words CARSON CANOES. “Who am I to approve or disapprove? Your arrangement is with Harry and the school.”

  Michon cringed slightly under the terse sentences but managed to shrug off her thoughts. “You know, when you think about it, this is really all your fault. If you hadn’t told me about canoeing I’d still be dying of boredom at a nine-to-five job.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” Chas was studying the fastenings on the life vest he held. “I’m not taking responsibility for this insanity of yours. I don’t understand, but this isn’t the time to talk about it. Well, did you come here to talk or work?”

  “Work,” Michon said spiritedly and then faltered. What did they expect her to do? She wouldn’t be able to tell a good life vest from one ready for the dump. None of them looked comfortable. “Where did those come from?” she asked in a blatant attempt at stalling.

  Harry explained that these belonged to the students, but not all of the vests were going to be allowed on the trip. “They have to be Coast Guard approved,” he added. “The school’s nervous enough about liability without our adding to their headaches. Come on, Chas. We can do this later. What we need to decide with Michon here is how we’re going to juggle equal numbers of boys and girls on a glorified slumber party. The last thing we need is some girl coming home to tell Mom and Dad that they’re going to become grandparents. That would have me out pounding the streets looking for another job in short order.”

  Michon grimaced. She hadn’t given that much thought to the boy-girl aspects of the expedition. True, she’d been wondering how she was going to make sure the girls got enough sleep and attended to the business side of a canoeing expedition, but it was obvious that she hadn’t been around teenagers enough lately. “Do you really think that’s going to be much of a problem?” she asked.

  Harry laughed. “Surely you’re not so old that you don’t remember what it’s like to be in high school. Hormones are going full speed ahead during the teen years. Answer this for me. If you were going to be spending a week out in the wilderness with ten young men, what would be on your mind?”

  Michon ran her hands over her face. “Don’t tell me. I finally got it figured out.”

  “I’m relieved to hear it,” Chas broke in. “Are you sure you can handle that?”

  Michon bristled. What had happened to the gentle man she’d had a quiet conversation with the other day? “You really don’t want me along on this trip, do you?” she challenged. “What is it? Don’t you think I can cut it?”

  “That’s part of it,” Chas replied, seemingly undisturbed by her sharp words. “Then, let’s just say I’m not as convinced of your motives as Harry is. Why would a city girl like yourself want to live with spiders in your sleeping bag, bugs trying to climb into the canoe, and the possibility of a bear taking off with our food supply?”

  “Do you think a spider or bug is going to send me screaming through the woods? I don’t happen to fit in with that outdated stereotype,” Michon said as she found herself a place to perch on Harry’s desk. She swung her legs lazily. “Even we city women face a spider or two in our lifetimes.” She didn’t mention that the thought of a bear gave her a lot more pause than an insect did. “I happen to be the only woman in my college biology class to volunteer to feed the two boa constrictors.”

  “Congratulations,” Chas said shortly, but Michon thought she detected a note of respect in his voice.

  In an effort to change the topic to something that wouldn’t set off sparks Michon asked Harry for information about the teenagers who would be making up the expedition. Harry explained that the twenty students were equally divided between boys and girls. “Most of them plan to be physical education majors, so they’re in top shape physically. Unfortunately they’re also of the opinion that they know everything. It seems to go with the territory. Getting them to listen can be a real job.” He smiled. “Kids think they have the world by the tail. It takes a few years as members of the school of hard knocks before they learn that they don’t know as much as they think they do.”

  Michon nodded in understanding. “That sounds familiar,” she laughed. “When I was eighteen I thought I knew so much more than my folks that I must have been impossible to live with. I was going to get married as soon as I got out of high school. After all, I was all grown-up and itching to play the adult game.” She shook her head at the memory. “Thank heavens I woke up before it was too late.”

  “Why?” Chas asked, his earlier challenging tone gone. “Did you decide you were too young?”

  “That was part of it,” she admitted, meeting his eyes. “The other was admitting that I was in love with love. The boy in question had a car, a job. What more did a man need? I was terribly impressed. But that wasn’t the real thing. Having someone to squire me about town wasn’t enough. I had no idea how he would hold up over the long haul.”

  “Do you know what real love is now?”

  Michon wasn’t sure she was ready for the turn the conversation had taken, but she realized he wanted an honest answer. She wanted to give it to him. “No. Oh, I have a better idea what I need in a man, because I know more about myself. But I haven’t found that man yet.”

  “That’s a pity,” Harry broke in. “Let an old man give you some advice, Michon. Love isn’t ecstasy twenty-four hours a day. That kind of an existence is pretty unrealistic, to say nothing of distracting a person from the day-to-day realities of life. But if you find someone you can communicate with without needing words, someone you want to be with even when that person has a cold and is in a nasty mood, that’s love. Love, the lasting kind, is respecting a person for what he or she is and knowing that respect is being returned. It’s wanting to still make love when he’s bald and you’re wearing bifocals.”

  “That’s beautiful,” Michon acknowledged before turning the conversation back to the students. And yet, even as Harry described several self-confident jocks and a couple of girls bent on proving that they were as competent as any man on earth, Michon couldn’t help but compare Paul with the teacher’s description. Had she and Paul ever been able to communicate about anything important? Did he respect her, or was she simply the window dressing he needed during this stage of his life?

  The answer didn’t really matter. Paul was no longer part of what she was doing, would be doing. She was moving on. To what? She didn’t have the answer to that, but it didn’t bother her. The search was enough for now.

  An hour later Harry had answered all her questions about the students, and Chas had given her a basic list of the supplies she would be expected to br
ing with her. At her admission that she owned neither waterproof boots nor a rain poncho, Chas offered to lend her some he had at his place. He seemed to have mellowed a little in the past hour. At least he no longer acted as if she had no business being in the room. “I’ll try to remember to bring them to you in the next day or so,” he said.

  “Maybe I could come by your place and pick them up,” Michon offered. “I don’t want you to have to make unnecessary trips. You’ve got enough to do.”

  “If you want,” Chas said, and gave her the address of his house in Shady Cove, a small town situated in the hills near the Rogue River. “It’ll give you the opportunity to see a true bachelor’s cabin.”

  “With spiders?”

  “Of course,” he shot back. “Probably a wolf pack prowling around the door. I’ll try to beat them off.”

  As Michon got ready to leave she found she was smiling both inside and out. It wasn’t just because, despite their several clashes, she’d spent an hour with Chas. She was going to see him in his natural habitat, not as a lanky country man trying to fit his legs under a tiny table in a deli. “Do you have electricity up there in the mountains?” she asked under cover of her lashes as Chas opened the door for her.

  “Sometimes,” he drawled. “But when the winter storms come, the lights go out and we’re at the mercy of the elements. Snow up to the windows. Wood supply running low. Food pantry empty. No pizza delivery service. Have to wait for the forest service to dig us out.”

  “I can’t imagine you ever having to turn to anyone for help,” she said softly, the darkened, empty hall turning her thoughts deep.

  “We all need help sometimes,” he said, his shoulder brushing hers.

  “But you live alone. That’s what you want, isn’t it? You sound like a very independent man to me.”

  “Independent? Maybe I am. It’s the only kind of life I’ve ever known. I thought once—I thought I wasn’t going to be alone any more. But it didn’t turn out that way.”