It took them four hours to travel the distance. Neither said a word. Mace knew what was at stake and he knew Maggie was no dummy. They paddled for their very lives. At last they rounded the headland. Mace could see down the channel.
He yelled up to Maggie, “Switch sides. Paddle on the starboard side. I’m going to turn the canoe.”
She shook her head. “No,” she called over her shoulder. “Not yet. We won’t make the channel. We’ll wash up there, on the rocks.” She held her paddle out of the water for just a moment and pointed. Mace followed the line of her extended arm, squinting, trying to see what she was talking about. “Look,” she shouted, “at the base of the headland, there’s a whirlpool or something. The waves are washing everything right there. If we get sucked into that, we won’t get out.”
Fuck, she’s right. How much farther do we need to go?
“Mace, we have to stay on this heading another couple hundred yards and then we can turn.” She met his eyes for just an instant. “Trust me, you have to trust me. I have a better angle than you do.”
Mace trusted Maggie with his life. Without hesitation, he yelled back, “All right, I’ll rely on you. Tell me when to turn. I’ll keep us on course.”
Maggie dug her paddle in deep and Mace kept them headed into the wind, battling against both the wind and waves that seemed maliciously intent upon flipping them over. At last Maggie called out, “Turn.” She switched her paddle to the starboard side and they turned and ran with the wind, surfing the waves easy as pie, skirting the headland, flying down the channel, into calm, clear water at last.
Mace rested his paddle across his knees, the muscles in his arms twitching. Maggie kept them moving forward, dipping her paddle into the water in a slow, steady beat. She grounded them onto a quiet sandy beach without any trouble. The first to climb out, Maggie stepped into the shallows and pulled the nose of the canoe up out of the water.
“I’m sorry, Maggie. I didn’t see that whirlpool. I would have gotten us caught in it. That would have been a disaster.”
“No big deal, disaster averted.” She took his paddle and offered him a hand. Together they pulled the canoe out of the water and up the bank, securing it between two boulders. Maggie tossed her life vest into the canoe and unzipped the pack around her waist. “Hand me a water bottle, please.” Mace tossed her one of the plastic bottles. He saw her shake two headache pills into her palm.
“How bad is it?”
“When I start to slur my words, you’ll know I’m in trouble.”
“How many do you have left?”
Maggie counted the remaining pills through the plastic bag. “Enough, if we can make it to the portage by four o’clock tomorrow. After that, you’re on your own. What time is it?”
“One.”
“You think we can go any further today?”
Mace shook his head. “We might make it another few miles, but it would take us hours to get across that open water, and it would be dark before we reach the portage. I think we’re better off staying here one more night.”
Maggie looked around. “Well, at least there’s a fire grate and a stack of dry wood, which means this is a designated campsite with a latrine.” She grinned at him. “Could be worse, Mace.” She went off into the woods to scout the location of the latrine.
Mace stretched his aching back and shook out his arms. He kept himself in good shape, running and biking and lifting a few times a week, but he wasn’t accustomed to sitting for hours at a stretch, fighting wind and waves. Maggie must be feeling much the same in addition to her headache.
Well, no time like the present to set up the tarp. He studied the gray sky. The clouds hung low, but they weren’t threatening, not yet. Of course, that can change in an instant. He began to unload the canoe.
A movement along one of the trails caught his eye. It was Maggie backing toward him, her movements slow and cautious. She stopped and stood still as a statue, staring at something. Whatever it was must be just out of sight from where he stood. He made a move to approach her, but she motioned him to stay put. At last she turned and trotted in his direction.
“What was it?”
“A cougar.”
Mace’s back suddenly didn’t bother him anymore. “You’re joking.”
“Nope. A cougar.”
“Then we should pack up and find another campsite,” Mace said.
Maggie slid her arm around his waist. She laughed out loud. “I know this will sound crazy, but I’m not afraid of a cougar. It didn’t look hungry, it didn’t come after me, and it seemed more afraid of me than I was of it. It’s okay, Mace, we can stay here. The cat isn’t going to hurt us.”
“Maggie, you do read the paper, right? There are mountain lion attacks in California.”
She laughed. “Yeah, but I’ve never been attacked. I’ve run into mountain lions a number of times out on the trail when I’m hiking. I’m not afraid, Mace. I’m way more afraid of running into a creepy guy. Besides, we disturbed him. He must have fed recently and he was getting a drink when we showed up. Didn’t you see the paw print in the sand?”
“What paw print?”
“C’mon.” Maggie turned and headed back to the beach. “I’ll show you.” She pointed out the huge paw print in the sand. “See?”
“Jesus, that’s a big fucking cat.”
Laughing, Maggie poked him in the arm. “Yeah, I know. He’s gorgeous.”
Mace crossed his arms. “I know guys who are scared of a raccoon, and you’re standing here telling me that you don’t mind sleeping, without a tent, in the same area where a mountain lion hunts.”
Maggie shrugged. “Hey, I’m afraid of raccoons. They look all cute and cuddly with that bandit eye patch, but a wild raccoon can be nasty. I think I’d rather take my chances with a cougar. Oh, and by the way…” she pointed to the left, “there’s a beaver lodge right over there on the other side of that big rock, so we might want to pay attention to where we fill up our water bottles.”
Mace couldn’t help it. He laughed. “Who are you, Nature Girl?”
“No,” Maggie said with a grin. “I’m just observant.”
“Are you the same person who was worried about the color of her napkin?”
This time she punched him in the arm. “Now that’s something to worry about when you’re dealing with freaks like Robert and Patty.”
“They are freaks, aren’t they?”
“Total freaks.” She hesitated for a moment. “You think they’re all right, Mace?”
“Honestly? I think they’re fine. Like I said, their canoe can handle this kind of weather and they have all the food, so yeah, they’re fine.”
“Do you think they’re looking for us?”
He shrugged. “I have no idea and it doesn’t matter. We can’t wait around for those two fools to save us. We have to save ourselves and if we learn that they’re still stuck out here, we’ll send the authorities back to look for them. That’s about all we can do. You know what course Robert originally planned, right?”
She nodded.
“Tell the rangers what you know and the rest is up to Robert and Patty. I suspect they’re fine, much better off than we are.” He heard Maggie sigh. “Do you need to lie down?” he asked her, his voice gentle.
“Yeah, I do.”
Mace found a good site for the tarp near the fire grate. He tied up all four corners and once again cut some of the smaller pine branches to make a sleeping platform. Maggie padded the branches with extra clothing and spread out the sleeping bag. She wadded up an old sweatshirt and stuffed it beneath her head, then turned onto her side and fell asleep.
Mace gathered kindling and prepared to build a fire. He intended to keep it burning all night. Maggie might not be afraid of mountain lions, but he was afraid for her. No way was he letting her out of his sight after sunset. There would be no latrine trips in the dark without him standing guard. When he had everything prepared to his satisfaction, he strode back to the shelter. Maggie lay
still as a stone, dead to the world, and he wondered just how bad her headache was. He brushed the back of his hand over her cheek. Her skin felt cold to his touch, so he removed his fleece jacket and knelt down to spread it over her.
Sitting back on his heels, Mace studied her face. There was not a single person he knew, man or woman, who could handle a potentially life-threatening situation the way she had. Even his brother, Jeff, would be yelling and tearing his hair, running around in a panic, looking for someone to blame instead of figuring out how to survive. Maggie wasn’t like that. She isn’t like anyone I’ve ever met.
It would be bad if they couldn’t get out tomorrow. They were running on empty as it was. Three days was hard enough, but four days without food, forced to fight the wind and the waves, might be too much. He knew how strong he was, but even he couldn’t do this alone. Conditions were rough and one person couldn’t handle the Grumman, not here, not in this water. Worse, they hadn’t seen a single other craft, not a sign of life, or at least not a sign of human life, anywhere. Apparently other people had the brains to stay out of the Boundary Waters in bad weather. Either that or everyone else was stranded too, but they probably had food and tents and some sort of water purification system.
His fists clenched in anger, Mace rose to his feet and walked away from Maggie to cool off. He was furious with Robert and Patty for endangering them, for putting Maggie at risk. She knew…that was the weird thing. She’d had a bad feeling about this trip from the beginning and he’d dismissed her concerns. Like any normal person, he assumed Robert had planned the trip well, especially as obsessed with detail as the guy seemed.
Robert hadn’t really planned the trip at all. He’d saddled them with a piece of shit for a canoe even though a decent canoe was available. The food and supplies weren’t divided equitably—Robert and Patty had kept most of the essential equipment in their craft. Worst of all, they’d left them to struggle along behind without a second thought, without even a glance back to see how they were doing. And Robert probably blamed them…
Remember Maggie’s toe? I haven’t checked that toe since yesterday. What if she’s septic? What if she’s got an infection?
He rushed back to the shelter and ripped the sleeping bag off Maggie.
“What?” She sat up, startled.
“Your toe, I need to look at your toe.”
“Right this second?”
“Yes, right now.” He reached for her bare foot, studying the nail on the big toe. It had turned black, but there was no swelling, no sign of infection. The skin surrounding the nail was a normal color.
Thank god.
Maggie looked up into his face. “It’s fine, Mace. I’d tell you if it wasn’t.” She grinned. “Not that you could do anything if I did get an infection. You’d have to heat up my Swiss army knife and amputate, just like the surgeons did during the Civil War.”
“Don’t joke about this, Maggie. Out here in the woods, you could get septic from an injury like this. Christ, look at us, we’re filthy.”
“I can fix that.”
“Fix what?”
“Fix filthy. I have some eco-friendly camp shampoo and soap in my pack. I also have a quick-dry towel. We can take a bath in the shallows, if you like. It’s not as cold today.”
“Must be the headache talking. I think you’re slurring your words. You actually suggested we get in the water.”
“Really, Mace, it might feel good.” She grinned up at him. “It might make us feel human to get clean. I hate being this grungy. Whenever I’m on a camping trip I take a bath and wash my hair. I don’t care if the water is ice cold. Being clean just makes you feel better, especially in a bad situation. Besides, if we happen to be rescued, I don’t want the rangers holding their noses. It’s kind of like wearing decent underwear in case you’re in an accident and the paramedics have to cut it off.”
Mace laughed. “All right, I’m game if you’re up for it. You’re sure the headache won’t get worse?”
“You want the truth?”
“Of course.”
“My headache is going to get worse whether I take a bath or not. Everything is sparkly, which means a whopper is coming on, probably in another few hours.” She must have seen the worry in his face because she added, “Mace, even if I lie here without moving a muscle, it’s going to get worse. There’s nothing either of us can do, aside from using the pain pills.”
“You could take a preventative, you know, not that we have any with us.”
“No, I can’t. I have a heart murmur and my physician won’t prescribe anything other than pain pills.”
A heart murmur?
“I see that doctor light shining from your eyes. Don’t sweat it, Mace; it’s not life-threatening.”
“But do you use a prophylaxis when you…?”
“Mace,” Maggie interrupted, “you’re not my doctor, you’re my…” She looked away from him.
He reached beneath her chin and turned her face back toward his. “I’m your what?”
She swallowed hard. He could see her throat working. “You’re everything I don’t believe in anymore.”
Mace sat down next to her. “What don’t you believe in, Maggie?”
She hesitated and he thought she might not answer him. “A good man,” she said at last. “Someone I can depend on.”
Mace was silent. He scooted closer and reached for her hand. The two of them sat together, leaning against each other beneath the tarp. The only sound Mace heard was the echo of their quiet breathing within the shelter. In that moment, he knew without a doubt that he would marry Maggie Anderson.
Chapter Ten
Maggie couldn’t sleep. The right side of her head throbbed so badly she smashed her face against the cold, hard ground, hoping somehow her head would go numb. Every hour, Mace helped her to sit up and made her drink. She knew dehydration would make her headache worse, but it took every ounce of willpower she had not to retch. Even plain water made her nauseated.
In the middle of the night, Mace sat up and, without a word, shifted her position until her head lay in his lap. He began to massage her temples. At first, the pain grew so intense she wanted to scream, but eventually it lessened and she was able to doze for brief periods. She wished she could tell him to get some rest himself, that she’d be all right, but this migraine was exactly what she’d expected, a whopper. Just a whisper hurt like hell.
She tried to distract herself by planning menus, imagining all the delicious foods she would make when she and Mace got out of this stinking fresh air. When that didn’t work, her mind wandered to the bath they’d taken together in the cold water…how Mace had kept her warm and made her come at least a dozen times. An orgasm is supposed to help a migraine, he’d said. Despite everything, Maggie felt the tiniest tug at both corners of her mouth. Well, it didn’t make it any worse, that’s for sure.
You know you love him. You want to be with him. You should tell him.
I can’t tell him now. I can’t even open my eyes. If we get out of here in one piece, I’ll tell him.
And what if you don’t get out of here? Will you leave the words unsaid? Go to a watery grave regretting the fact that you didn’t tell him how you feel?
Don’t be so melodramatic. If anyone can get me back to safety, it’s Mace. He promised, remember? He’s the most competent, the most trustworthy man I’ve ever known. We’ll make it back.
The motion of Mace’s fingers on her temples stopped abruptly. Even in her migraine-induced delirium, she felt his body tighten, and he held himself abnormally still. She cracked her eyes open. Not five feet from them, its massive profile visible in the light cast by the fire, stood an enormous moose. Despite her pounding head, Maggie lay transfixed by the sight.
“Don’t move a muscle.” Mace’s whisper was barely audible; Maggie was surprised she even heard him.
For a creature that large, the moose was surprisingly quiet. He shuffled through their makeshift campsite, snuffling at their belongings an
d at last, sticking his muzzle against the tarp and giving a huge snort. Maggie had to bite her lip to keep from giggling. She knew moose could be bad tempered, but this one didn’t seem particularly threatening, just curious. After a few moments, it left their campsite, trotting off into the forest. As it disappeared from view, they heard the distant howl of a wolf, followed by the voice of another wolf and then a third.
In the silence that followed, Mace blew out a long breath. “What the fuck is this,” he hissed, “Wild Kingdom?”
“Exactly.” Maggie began to giggle, which made her head hurt worse, but she couldn’t stop.
“Quit laughing. A bear will probably show up next. I spotted a pile of fresh bear shit over by the beaver lodge.”
Holding her head with both hands, Maggie laughed harder. “I can’t help it. That moose snorted at us. And here I thought we smelled better.”
Mace chuckled. “I smell clean and fresh. You smell like sex. But then, you always smell very slightly of pheromones. It’s one of the many things I find appealing about you. Here.” He pried open the plastic bag. “It’s been four hours, take two more.” He propped Maggie up so she could swallow her pain pills.
“I hope I don’t smell like musquick,” Maggie muttered as she lay back down. “Did you think that moose was going to stomp on us?”
“What’s musquick?”
“That sticky mud we stepped in today, in the shallows. It’s like quicksand only not deadly, except to shoes.”
Mace laughed. “Oh, I thought you were delirious and you were talking about the baking stuff, Bisquick.” He stroked her cheek. “Go to sleep, Maggie. Let the pain pills do their job. And yes, I was a little concerned about the moose. They’re not the placid animals people think they are. They can be pretty territorial.”
Maggie yawned and curled up on her side, trying to find a comfortable spot. “He snuffled like a horse.”
Barrett, Julia Rachel - Pushing Her Boundaries (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 13