Wicked River

by Jenny Milchman

  “Mark’s and Brett’s pasts, you mean?” Aunt Nat asked.

  They were talking about the two hot groomsmen, but other than that, Mia couldn’t make sense of a single word. Still, she did know that a conversation this tense didn’t belong on your wedding day, and her skin began to prickle. Her mom and dad used to sound like this. Before they stopped talking to each other at all.

  She should leave, go in search of her mom, but Mia couldn’t bring herself to turn away from the tree. Far across the lawn arose a sudden plume of laughter, glasses clinking, the buzz of a party really getting started. The dull, old-timey musicians had left, and now a DJ was playing something by some hip band.

  “Okay, I get it,” Aunt Nat said after a pause. “They’re your friends, you’re protective of them. But can you at least tell me why you got so ticked off?”

  Mia frowned. She knew something must’ve happened before she came down from the hotel—her mom had been all rustled and upset as she took her place at the head of the aisle, plus Uncle Doug’s groomsmen had almost been late, still adjusting their ties when they appeared—but Mia herself hadn’t been there to see whatever it was. She was always missing out on stuff other people were right in the middle of.

  “Do you?” Uncle Doug said.

  “What?” Aunt Nat responded.

  “Get it,” Uncle Doug said.

  “What?” Aunt Nat asked again.

  “Come on, Nat,” Uncle Doug said, and though his voice sounded gentle, something in it warned Mia that what he was about to say wouldn’t be. “We both know that friends haven’t exactly been your strong suit in life.”

  There was a silence. Something in Mia’s chest plopped with hurt for her aunt.

  She began to back away. Fast, almost falling in her loaner shoes. She shouldn’t have been here in the first place. The kissing had been private, not for anybody else’s eyes, but this was secret in a different way altogether. No wonder her parents were getting divorced. If this was what marriage was like, then Mia would skip it completely, even if the rose petal part had been nice.

  But then Aunt Nat answered, cool and strong. “Don’t turn this around on me, Doug. I have a right to ask. Who were those men?”

  Mia practically let out a cheer.

  Uncle Doug snorted. “You mean Lefty and his partner?”

  “Doug!” Aunt Nat said, protesting and laughing at the same time. “Way to make fun of the handicapped guy. He had a limp. That isn’t what made him shady.”

  Feeling better somehow, Mia began to drift in the direction of the band. Maybe she’d get another glass of champagne, drink the whole thing this time. The taste had become less gross on her tongue, like chilled honey and lemon.

  But then Uncle Doug spoke again. “Shady,” he repeated. “Look, Mark and Brett are big boys. They can handle things on their own.” A second or two ticked by. “I’ll tell you more about it. Just not today, okay?” A pause and he added, “Today is for us.”

  Mia saw her aunt and uncle’s bodies merge behind the leafy boughs before she finally turned away for real, racing off across the lawn.

  • • •

  The wedding had begun to wind down—outdoor dinner eaten, dances danced, and speeches made—before Mia realized she’d barely gotten to see her mother all night. She’d caught glimpses of her flitting form, ducking here, pausing there. Everything had been such a bustle, her mom seeing to a zillion tasks and demands, but as the guests began to head over to the pool or the bar, Mia decided she’d better return to their shared room.

  She passed a waiter clearing empty plates and glasses from a long plank table. Another waiter dipped a taper into a tub strewn with flowers, igniting a flame for the lingering partygoers still milling around. Twinkling candles had been scattered all over, even though it wasn’t full dark yet. Night was descending in that slow, lazy way it did in summer, as if it might decide never to arrive.

  A path wound through the grounds, forming a shortcut to the steps at the front of the hotel. Mia jogged left to take it, her heels sinking into soft dirt. Mountains rose like hooded shoulders, making Mia feel claustrophobic, like they could close in around her at any second. She missed the towering skyscrapers back home in New York, fixed in place by foundations and cement.

  Shouts and calls arose from the pool area and floodlit tennis courts, too distant to provide much comfort. Mia had been unprepared for how spooky it would feel out here alone in the blue half-light of evening. The moon hadn’t yet risen, and there were no stars. Mia went to fish out her cell phone, then remembered she didn’t have it on her. She felt like she’d been suddenly paralyzed or struck blind. What was she supposed to do with her hands and eyes without a phone? She sped up, grasses nipping at her bare legs. Some kind of nocturnal bird took flight with a great rush of wings.

  Mia hurried on. The parking lot lay between her and the hotel, and the sight of the cars was somehow reassuring, so man-made and of this world. Nature by itself was intimidating. Not for the first time, Mia wondered why Aunt Nat and Uncle Doug had chosen to get married in the country versus someplace romantic like a castle in Europe or on a beach. She stepped out of the field, grateful for the feel of asphalt beneath her feet.

  Mia ran past the first row of cars, swatting at a bug that landed on her neck. Her hand came away bloody, and she looked down at it with distaste. She’d have to wait to find a sink at the hotel; she couldn’t very well wipe off her hand on her fancy dress. Luckily, the building was visible now, casting its shadow across the hunched vehicles. She rounded a corner and came upon two people standing on either side of a car.

  “Hey there.”

  Mia stopped in place, facing Uncle Doug’s friends, the ones who’d been in the wedding. They were both so hot, they made the cute waiter look ugly.

  “Hi,” Mia said shyly. Just the one word caused her cheeks to fire. No lines about cowboys coming out of her now. “What’s up?” she added stupidly.

  The first friend—she was pretty sure his name was Mark—gave a hard tug on a rope, making muscles ripple beneath his rolled-up sleeves.

  Mia only registered then that there must be a reason they were here at the car. She felt like she was drugged—the lingering effects of the champagne maybe—as she lifted her head and spotted a long boat on the roof. It was a beautiful contraption, made out of some kind of highly polished wood. Mia had never seen anything like it. Of course, it wasn’t like she went around boating all the time.

  Both guys followed her gaze. Then the one named Mark explained, “Got to make sure tomorrow gets off to a good start.”

  His words brought back a bite of memory. Not only had Aunt Nat decided to get married way up here, she was also heading into the woods for her honeymoon. Again, Hawaii or Paris would’ve been way better choices as far as Mia was concerned. No matter where Aunt Nat went, though, it still meant that Mia would be stuck all alone in the city for the next week, her friends’ schedules booked up with camps and sports and get-a-head-start-on-school programs. Mia’s parents were no use in the company department these days. Aunt Nat was all she had.

  The hot guys were looking at her, their eyes glinting in the night.

  Mia studied the top of the car again, trying to come up with something to say. “Nice boat.” Was that a canoe? Or a kayak?

  The second guy looked at Mark. Brett? Derek? He had a hot guy’s name.

  “Wedding present,” he explained.

  Mark chuckled, giving Brett-slash-Derek a playful slug on the arm. “Groomsmen,” he added. “It ain’t all about the bachelor party and chicks with whipped cream.”

  Mia felt her face flare again. Not because of what Mark had said, but because he was staring right at her. Mia dropped her eyes, but she could tell that Mark kept right on looking. She lifted her gaze, and he smiled. Mia smiled hesitantly back.

  “Hey,” he said again, walking around the car in her direction. H
e stopped within a foot or so of her, close enough that she could sniff faint sweat on his body, along with an overlay of clean deodorant. He smelled like a man. “Pretty dress.”

  “Thanks.” Her face must be a mask of red by now. She could feel it, like paint. Thank God she’d gotten her braces taken off.

  Mark held her eyes with his. “I’m not so sure it’s a good idea for you to be out here all by yourself.” He took a look around the shadowed lot and gave a mock shiver.

  That made her nerves loosen their grip. “I think I can handle it,” she retorted.

  Mark looked down at her again. Droopy eyes that said he was thinking way more than he ever would say, skin so smooth it gleamed. Just a bristle of hair on his chin, but still, a man’s growth, not a boy’s. He was more gorgeous than any actor. Mia cursed her comatose phone for like the thousandth time that night. She was missing the selfie that would’ve redeemed her whole summer, made every girl in school jealous next year.

  “It’s not you I’m worried about,” Mark said, and his voice became genuinely caring. “It’s whatever else is out here.” Another look traded with his friend. “Can I walk you back to the inn?”

  It wasn’t like the hotel was far away, but still, Mia felt her whole body begin to tingle. Alone time with the legit hot guy. She cocked her head up at him, taking a step forward. Mark shot one more look over his shoulder, then settled a hand lightly on her waist, igniting a strip of flame. Mia wasn’t sure she’d be able to walk. She didn’t know if he could sense the effect he was having, but Mark steered her gently out of the parking lot, headed in the direction of the building.

  The other guy called, “Tell Doug good night from me,” before rising on the soles of his shoes and leaning over the car.

  Chapter Four

  Natalie stood on tiptoes, T-shirt riding up and exposing her stomach to the predawn chill. She was trying to make sure their new canoe was lashed on securely, but if it didn’t warm up soon, she was going to have to stop and dig her fleece out of her pack.

  Their wedding gift from Mark and Brett was a study in polished woods, lying like a glossy brown beetle on the roof of the car. Natalie went higher on her toes, reaching to stroke the canoe’s smooth finish. In just a few hours, this vessel would become of the utmost importance: Natalie and Doug’s primary mode of transport as they paddled through the most untouched stretch of wilderness the Adirondacks had to offer.

  Doug and his mother came walking down from the inn, Doug holding on to his mom as if she were a brimming glass, about to spill. Gail Larson wasn’t exactly the maternal type—in fact, Doug seemed more inclined to protect her than the reverse—but still, Natalie watched their progression with a pang of jealousy.

  Her mother-in-law came to a stop just before the parking lot. “I think I’ll say my goodbyes to you now,” she said. “It’s a bit early for me. I’d like to get some more rest.”

  Natalie stepped forward for an embrace, Gail hugging back weakly.

  “Sure you can make it okay on your own, Mom?” Doug asked.

  Gail was already turning to go, picking her way across the grasses growing at the edge of the lot. She lifted her hand in a small wave.

  Doug came over, did a couple of things with the ties around the canoe and the roof rack on which it lay, and suddenly the boat didn’t budge so much as an inch. Doug turned and wrapped his arms around Natalie’s waist. “Ready to go?”

  She settled into his embrace, grateful for the transfer of warmth from her husband. Her husband. Doug’s ability to see a problem and fix it, the way he had of setting a course and steering things, gave Natalie the feeling that she had finally come home. She grinned, nodding assent. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” The words came out darker than she had intended. Natalie suppressed a flicker of apprehension, focusing on the sensation of her husband’s firm, unwavering hold.

  Mark and Brett had volunteered to bring Natalie and Doug to their put-in spot on the lake. This was to be a somewhat elaborate endeavor, requiring two cars. After dropping them off, Mark and Brett would drive separately to the spot where Natalie and Doug were going to emerge from the woods just over a week from now. They would leave Doug’s car there before driving together in Brett’s back to the city.

  Doug’s groomsmen had really stepped up, Natalie reflected, despite whatever weirdness had gone on before the wedding. They’d just barely made it into the processional on time, but any lingering resentment on Natalie’s part was eased when Claudia told her that Mark had escorted Mia back to her room last night after the girl had gotten turned around on the sprawling grounds, returning her red-faced and giggling.

  It had turned out to be a wonderful celebration in the end.

  Doug loosened his arms, letting Natalie out of his grasp, and walked around to the rear of the car. It was Mark and Brett’s turn to emerge from the inn, yawning and sleep-drugged, scrubbing at their faces as they lugged along suitcases and garment bags.

  They’d all partied pretty hard last night, and Mark and Brett looked as tired as Natalie felt. Given the place she and Doug were headed, such a state seemed not only unwise, but potentially dangerous. They needed their wits sharpened, to be on the lookout for things. What kind of trip had they planned for their honeymoon? Natalie wondered suddenly. A period of time that was supposed to be spent relaxing and simply enjoying each other, but would instead require navigating dense reaches of forest, grappling with equipment, and providing for themselves.

  It was too late for such thoughts, although a small shudder took hold of her. Here in the mountains, the sun hadn’t yet penetrated the sky, and the morning remained tin-colored, chilly for July. Back home in the city, the heat would already be mounting its assault on the day.

  “Everyone feeling good?” Mark shouted as he trudged across the lot, Brett following at a dawdle. “A hangover is what every backcountry trip should start out on.”

  “Let’s get this show on the road,” Doug called out, clearly impatient. He held up his phone. “You have the location in your GPS? Our phones won’t work up there.”

  “They barely work here either. We’ve been kicking it old-school for three days,” Mark called back. “That’s why I stopped at a gas station and bought this.” He held out a wedge of paper, whose neat accordion folds would do nothing, Natalie knew, to assist her in making their way. She and maps spoke a different language.

  When they had begun to plan this trip, Doug had asked Natalie if she was sure she would be up for it. She’d never been a big outdoorsperson, although Doug had taken her rafting and they’d camped out a few times. Still, Doug had voiced concern that Natalie couldn’t survive a whole week without creature comforts. Had it been pride—a need to prove herself to her then-future husband—that had gotten Natalie into this mess?

  Not a mess, she chided. In fact, it was the ultimate in romance: two people on their own in nature at the start of their lives together. Living life pared back to basics. Think about it, Doug had said when he first proposed the idea. Skinny-dipping. Sleeping beneath the stars. I don’t want some waiter coming up and taking our drink orders, he’d concluded. I just want you.

  We can always order the daiquiris back home, Natalie had joked, although no self-respecting New York City bar had blended a daiquiri in a decade, and Natalie had actually been looking forward to the lack of affectation that would come with a good, old-fashioned stay at a tropical resort.

  But Doug had said, “That’s the future Mrs. Larson,” in a tone of such approval—he might as well have said, That’s my girl—that Natalie was helpless before it. Even as she also looked down at herself with distaste, observing her tendency to acquiesce, go along with whatever Doug wanted.

  It’s not just that you don’t have time for us anymore, Eva and Val had once told her. It’s like you don’t even wish you did. No wonder Natalie had had to dig up bridesmaids from the buried time capsule that was college. Meeting Doug, the prosp
ect of their marriage, had woven a cocoon around the two of them, protective, but also isolating and alone.

  As soon as Natalie had approved the honeymoon, Doug got right to work, purchasing gear and hiring a guide to plan out their route. And now they were ready to embark, too late for second thoughts or regret.

  Natalie shivered, her arms sandpapery with gooseflesh. A momentary signal blip allowed her phone to ding an alert, and she grabbed for the device. Before climbing out of bed this morning, Doug still asleep beside her, Natalie had uploaded a stream of photos from last night—or tried to. They must’ve finally appeared. She glanced down at the screen, hoping for a comment from the ashes of her friendships with Val and Eva.

  Not even a like.

  A few months ago, Natalie had begun a position in medical HR, recommended to the head of the department by her sister, who was a nurse in the same healthcare system. She hadn’t grown close with anyone at her new job yet, and none of her coworkers had been able to make the trip up for the wedding, although one had texted sorry I missed such a fun night beneath a selfie of Natalie and her bridesmaids on the dance floor.

  Natalie suspected those college friendships were going to dwindle away again, even though they’d all promised, sloppily, drunkenly to keep in better touch.

  Would it be just her and Doug from now on? On the river, and in life?

  Another alert sounded. Mia, probably benefiting from the same lift in signal, had texted u were the most beautiful bride along with six exclamation points. Natalie felt a warming flash of love. Natalie had been more than a sister to Claudia, a trial daughter almost, and in much the same way, Mia felt like more than a niece to Natalie.

  She noticed Doug staring at her, a smile on his face that looked loving, excited, and nervous, all at once. He mouthed a let’s go, and Natalie shoved her phone into her pocket as she hurried over to the car.

  She paused.

  She could at least get her fleece out of her pack. She might’ve acceded all thoughts and preferences of her own when it came to this honeymoon, but she didn’t have to be cold, damn it.