“Journalism.”
“Journalism. You’re a writer?”
“Yes,” Joe said, sounding perturbed with her continued astonishment.
“What do you write? Have you written anything good?” she asked, choosing her words poorly. She wasn’t trying to insult him, but she was excited to think that she might have read something he’d written.
But Joe’s eyes narrowed, and his posture took on a proud attitude. “Everything I write is good. But if you’re asking if I’ve been published, the answer is yes. Several times in fact. However, if you are wondering if you might have read something of mine, I doubt it. My writing tends to get a little involved.”
“Meaning you don’t think I read anything heavier than first grade primers, right?” she asked, taking up his role as the insulted intellectual.
“So far you’ve done nothing to lead me to think otherwise.”
Leslie gasped in outrage and frantically searched her mind for a scathing rebuttal. But the truth was, she had been doing some pretty idiotic things since she’d met him. Since before she met him, actually. So how could she fight the truth?
Rather than make some inane remark which would only prove his point, she opted to change the subject entirely. Boldly looking him in the eye, giving him permission to think whatever he liked about her, she asked, “Are you ready to go?”
“Yes. But let’s rewrap your feet again first.”
When Joe bent to take her foot in his hands, she pulled away, saying, “I can do it.”
Joe shrugged indifferently and walked away.
Well, Joe Bonner certainly had been right about one thing, Leslie decided as she soaked his T-shirt in the icy water and reapplied the pieces to her aching feet. This definitely was going to be a long two weeks. What irked her was the fact that she couldn’t lay it all at Joe’s door. She had never acted so strangely in all her life. It was as if she were functioning on pure emotion. Illogical, irrational, indefinable emotion. She, Leslie Rothe, reacting emotionally. It was like drowning in a desert, very unnatural.
She was feeling sorry for her sister, Beth, for having spent most of her life in this state of ungovernable moodiness, when Joe’s activities caught her attention. He had placed their packs and the cooler behind a large boulder and was covering them with dirt and tree limbs and anything else he could find.
“Now what are you doing?” she asked.
“Hiding the food and hoping the animals won’t smell it before I come back for it tomorrow,” he said without stopping.
“What animals?”
Joe glanced in her direction but went on with his work. “Little forest creatures. Squirrels mostly.”
“Are there any bears around here that you know of?”
“Nah. They all moved down to the zoo in Denver,” he said facetiously. “But we still have some cute little kitties and some weird looking dogs up here.”
Coyotes and mountain lions. Why hadn’t she thought of them before? Bears, too, probably. Out of her element didn’t exactly describe the way she was feeling. She thought longingly of her nice, safe office. She knew she’d never watch another movie about an extraterrestrial’s first visit to earth without having a great deal of empathy for the alien.
“Is that why you want to get there before dark?” she asked, hoping he’d tell her the animals were never seen in the daylight hours.
“That and the fact that there are no streetlights up here. It gets harder to see where you’re going when the sun goes down.”
“Oh.”
Thinking it better to stay busy rather than dwell on the animals she sensed to be lurking behind nearly everything she looked at, she got to her feet with every intention of helping her companion bury his food. But she didn’t need to take that first step to know that she wouldn’t get far.
Panic and despair filled her once more. They lodged in her throat as she realized the impossibility of her walking anywhere. Just the pressure of standing on her feet was almost more than she could bear. She sat back down dejectedly and turned her attention to Joe.
She could well imagine what he’d say when he discovered she couldn’t walk the rest of the way, but what would he do? Stay and camp out with her until she could travel? Or leave her there for … what had he called it last night? Buzzard bait?
She was in the process of wishing she’d been nicer to him, when Joe walked over and held out a hand to help her up. She moved to take it, but at the last minute withdrew her hand.
“It’s no use. I can’t,” she said, defeated.
“You can’t what?”
“I can’t walk. I’ll never make it to your cabin, and I can’t blame you for wanting to leave me here, but I think I should warn you that if you do, I’m going to haunt you until the day you die.” She finished her impassioned speech on a note of conviction, hoping that she’d impressed him with her supernatural powers.
“Dammit, lady, will you give me a break? I’ve known all along you couldn’t walk on those damn blisters, and it never once occurred to me to leave you here alone. I don’t know why you’re so bent on being suspicious of me, but I don’t think I deserve it. Or are you suspicious of all men? When you’re down in the city and a man holds a door open for you, do you automatically mace him in the face so he won’t take your purse?”
“Of course not,” she said, feeling guilty—and emotional. How was it that she constantly said things that upset him? “It’s just that—”
“Just what? Tell me what I’ve done,” he said, his tone irate, his words rapid and clear.
“Well, it’s just that things have been difficult since we met, and I know you don’t like me very well and …”
“Who said I don’t like you? Did I say I don’t like you? As I recall, you are the one who said you don’t like me. In fact, you gave me a list of reasons why. But I didn’t say I don’t like you.”
“You mean you do?”
“I didn’t say that either,” he said, coming up short. He put his hands on his hips and shifted his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know what to think of you. You’re the strangest woman I’ve ever met.”
How could Leslie argue with that? She thought she could point out that he, too, was a little strange. But he probably was like that all the time, which would make his behavior normal. Hers was not normal. She was not usually so flighty. Therefore, she deduced, she was easily the stranger of the two of them.
“You’re right,” she said after a moment of silence. “And I apologize.”
“Why?” he asked, suspicious. “Are you still afraid I’ll leave you here to die?”
“No. Because I was wrong. Considering the state I’ve been in, I think you’ve handled this situation fairly well.” she said, speaking in an honest Leslielike manner.
“High praise indeed,” he muttered. He studied her for several long seconds and then finally nodded. “Okay. So, let’s go.”
“But …”
He held up a hand to stop her objection, then put out both hands to assist her up. “Come on, stand up.” His voice was lower and softer without his angry tone.
Something very compelling in his eyes asked her to trust him. Their fingers met—hers tentative and unsure, his firm and strong. He gave her a brief, confident smile and pulled her to her feet.
“Okay, good. Now try and stand up on that rock for a second. When I turn around, you climb up on my back,” he said.
“Oh, no,” she said emphatically as a clear picture formed in her mind. She’d rather have faced the bears in that moment, than have to climb onto his back—his broad, bare sinewy back—and let him carry her for miles while she held on to all that warm, golden skin. The thought mortified her.
“Oh, yes. It’s the only way, Leslie.” Joe was acting very cavalier about the whole thing. While the simple sound of her name on his lips sent sudden chills up Leslie’s spine.
“What about a litter or something?”
“I don’t thi
nk dragging you is going to be any easier than carrying you, and we’d waste the daylight making it. I don’t see that we have any other choice here.”
Leslie looked around as if she were hoping to find a wheelchair or, better yet, a taxi. Forlorn, she turned back to Joe, resigned to her fate. Where were fairy godmothers when you really needed them, she wondered in her desperation.
“Come on, cheer up. I’ll bet you haven’t had a piggyback ride since you were a little girl,” Joe said, laughing at her discomfort.
“There’s a good reason for that. I’m a lot bigger now. You’ll end up with bilateral hernias.”
“Come on. Come on,” he said, growing impatient. “If I give you more time, you’ll have a whole list of reasons not to do this. Now, get up there.”
He helped Leslie onto the flat edge of a nearby rock, which made her nearly a foot taller than he. Then he turned, drawing her arms around his neck as he went. “Okay, now wrap those nice long legs of yours around my waist so I’ll have something to hold on to.” When she had no choice but to comply, he hiked her up onto his back and gave her a prefatory swat on her bottom saying, “And don’t drag your tail, or you’ll slow us down.”
Leslie had never felt so completely unraveled. Where was her simple, logical life? Where was her calm, unemotional disposition? Wrapping herself around Joe’s big, hard body made her feel like she’d entered a fifth dimension. His long, dark hair brushed against her cheek and tickled fantasies not in her usual repertoire. Even the not so clean and overworked smell of him was somehow erotic and made her muscles jumpy. She had to remind herself that this wasn’t normal behavior, that she needed to be embarrassed and feel like an utter fool. Still all she could think about was running her hands over his smooth, warm skin.
“Talk to me,” Joe said after a while, his words rushing out on a labored breath.
“What about?”
“Anything. You. What you do. It’ll make the time go faster if I’m distracted.”
“Oh. Well, I’m a research analyst. I work a lot with computers. I gather facts and data on a specific subject and develop an hypothesis about it. It’s like putting a puzzle together. I take a whole bunch of little pieces of information and put them together to make a clear, overall picture.”
“That’s amazing,” Joe said.
“It is. And it’s a lot of fun too. I enjoy it very much.”
“No, I meant it’s amazing that you do that. I guess I just hadn’t pictured you doing something so detailed and involved.”
Peering over his shoulder, Leslie cast him a sidelong glance and held her breath as her pride bristled. Suddenly, riding on this man’s back and listening to him gasp and groan didn’t seem so bad. “Just exactly what did you have me pictured as?” she asked in a too-sweet voice.
“I don’t know. I guess, at first, I thought you were a model or something because of what you were wearing. I thought maybe you’d been on a shoot up here and had gotten lost. But once you explained about the dress, I didn’t think anymore about it.”
“So why are you so amazed that I’m a research analyst?”
“I’m not amazed exactly. Just surprised.”
“That’s basically the same thing,” she said.
Joe turned his head and tried to look at her. Then he laughed. “I am so tempted to tell you to get off my back,” he said with a chuckle in his voice. “But instead, I’ll just ask if you’re trying to pick another fight with me?”
“Maybe.”
“All right, then. I’m about as amazed that you’re a research analyst as you were when you found out I went to college. How’s that?”
Leslie fell momentarily silent. “That makes us even then. I’m sorry.”
“Let’s rest a second,” he said. Carefully he released and lowered her feet to the ground behind him. Her knees felt like wet spaghetti, but Joe was there to help her sit down. When he finally got around to tending to himself, twisting and stretching his aching back muscles, he didn’t seem to notice that he had Leslie’s rapt attention.
Her own body began to tingle and squirm as she watched him. Her mind conjured up an image of thick, powerful arms encircling her, of a back bending forward and curving around to protect her. A sigh escaped her, and the vision vanished, leaving Leslie to wonder where it had come from.
When Joe suddenly turned back to her with a grin on his face and a bemused sparkle in his eyes, her heart flipped over and began to pump frantically. Seeing pleasure on his face did the strangest things to her.
“You know, for a couple of real smart people, we’ve sure as hell made a mess of things,” he said with great amusement.
“We certainly have,” she agreed, in a much more serious tone.
Five
JOE AND LESLIE reached the end of their journey in relative amicability. They hardly spoke. Joe seemed to be concentrating heavily on taking one forward step after another, while Leslie fought to keep her “tail” from dragging. She couldn’t remember ever being so weary.
The aching stiffness in her arms, back, and legs made the pain in her feet almost forgettable. She could well imagine how Joe felt and allowed gratitude to slip into her heart.
He turned off the main logging road and began to ascend a slow upgrade. Leslie heard him groan, not in exhaustion this time but in relief.
“Are we close?” she asked, anxious to have this part of her ordeal come to an end.
“Mm,” was his affirmative response.
She guessed it to be early evening. It was still light out, but the shadows of the trees were very long and the sun was no longer heating them. She felt not the slightest compunction to offer Joe his shirt back, though, because she knew he didn’t need it.
The front of the shirt was the only thing that separated their bodies, and it was soaked with his perspiration. Her hands could feel and would sometimes slip on the clammy warmth of his skin. Even the air she breathed, so close to his neck and the side of his face, was humid and scented with the evidence of his exertion. The shirt was the last thing he needed.
Funny man, Joe Bonner. So cold and aloof one minute—like he was earlier that morning—and so willing to help, so kind and gentle and friendly the next. She never quite knew what he was thinking or what he’d do next. But all along she was aware that there was something very special and thrilling about being close to this particular human being.
She was too tired to be excited sexually, and the uncommon feeling went much deeper than that anyway. It was more like a bonding, an exclusive link between them. It was something neither of them had asked for or particularly wanted, but it was there nevertheless. It was like the connection between two people who had taken on an insurmountable obstacle together and won, or had fought and suffered together and lived to tell about it. Of course, in this instance, it seemed to Leslie that she had done most of the suffering and Joe had done most of the fighting, but overall, she’d come to know that she could trust him.
That was it. The bond. She trusted Joe Bonner, and he accepted that faith. With this peculiar revelation, Leslie realized that she’d never truly trusted another person outside her family before. How odd. And why hadn’t she? Her life hadn’t been a succession of traumatic disappointments. And why now? Why Joe Bonner of all people?
A panicky feeling crept into her consciousness and filled her mind with question marks. And questions without answers made her very nervous. Suddenly all she wanted to do was put some distance between herself and Joe Bonner.
“Maybe I could walk from here.”
“Maybe you might have to, but let’s see how far I can get you. Your feet are in such bad shape,” he said, reestablishing a firmer hold around her thighs, his breathing deep and ragged.
She looked up, and over his shoulder she saw it. It was a small wooden structure with three windows and a door on the near side and a stone chimney visible on the end closest to them. It didn’t look much bigger than her own living room and kitchen put together. It was nothing to shout about, but th
at’s exactly what she did, as if it were a castle.
“We made it, Mr. Bonner. Look. That’s it, isn’t it? Oh, Lord, I’ve never been so happy to see a place before,” she said exuberantly.
“Leslie! Be still,” he said, staggering under her excitement. When he was under control again, he asked, “And when are you going to start calling me Joe?”
“I don’t know. When you feel like a Joe to me, I guess,” she said guilelessly, some of the old honest and logical Leslie asserting itself.
“Oh. That’s interesting. And what’s the difference between a Joe and a Mr. Bonner?”
“One’s a stranger, and the other isn’t.”
Joe stopped ten feet from the front of the house and craned his neck to look at her. When he could see that she wasn’t joking, he sighed deeply, took the remaining few steps to his front door, and lowered Leslie onto the small front porch. Then he turned to her with a frown of disbelief on his face and asked, “After all we’ve been through in the last twenty-four hours, I’m still a stranger to you?”
“Technically, yes,” she said, taken aback and on the defensive again by his display of irritation. “I think you’ve been very nice to put up with me. But I know nothing about you except your name and profession and that you went to college somewhere.”
Joe was quiet at first. His lively green eyes searched steadily for something in the expression on her face or in her eyes or around her mouth, because they covered all those places. Finally, almost in disgust, he nodded and said, “Mr. Bonner suits me just fine, lady.” He turned on his heel and started to walk away.
Obviously she had hurt his feelings, and she was instantly sorry for that. She hadn’t meant to. Her mother was right, she had no tact. She lacked a sensitivity to other people’s feelings. She also had a lack of interest in the world around her—or she had until the day before. She wondered when she had become so self-absorbed or if she’d always been that way, a victim of some sort of mutation in her emotional makeup.
She wanted to call out to Joe, to apologize or tell him she had only been joking. But she didn’t want to lie to him either. She threw up her hands in helplessness. Somehow she’d have to find a way to mend this new breach between them. She actually wanted to this time. She felt an odd craving to be able to call Mr. Bonner, Joe.
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