by Leslie Gould
“I like it up here,” Pete said after we’d been on the river for a few minutes.
“And I like it back here,” I shot back, picking up the pace. And I did—especially watching the muscles in his triceps flex over and over with each stroke.
When we neared our final stop, he told me to slow down and let the others go first. I dug my paddle into the current, pulling against it, spinning us around. The others were lollygagging along, chatting and laughing. The air had cooled, but I was still warm from the exercise.
“Want some water?” Pete held a bottle out to me and I took it, taking a long drink. When I handed it back to him, he finished it off.
“So what’s for supper?”
“It’s a surprise.” He put the empty bottle in his backpack and zipped it, grinning as he did. “Are you having a good time?”
I nodded. The peacefulness of the water, the natural beauty all around, and Pete’s company all soothed me. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt such harmony.
By the time we neared the dock, I was looking forward to dinner, though. And to sitting around a campfire, next to Pete.
“We’ll have to carry the kayaks up to the park,” he said as Mervin and Addie paddled up to the dock. “And then to the road later.”
Martin and Betsy maneuvered to the other side.
“Move all the way up,” Pete instructed.
I paddled our kayak behind Betsy’s. By the time I started to climb out, with the bag over my shoulder, Martin stood on the dock.
“Let me help.” He extended a hand.
“I’m fine.” I was okay going on an outing with him, but I wasn’t ready to actually trust him.
“Let me get out first,” Pete said to me.
Mervin stepped onto the dock and stumbled a little. Addie gave a little shriek. I started to step out of the kayak as Pete put his second foot on the dock. At the same time Mervin slipped and stumbled toward Martin. My plan was to sit back down in the kayak as quickly as I could, but Martin swung his arm wide and knocked me off-balance.
I did my best to land back in the seat, but my center was off, and I landed to the right, on the side of the kayak with a hard knock to my thigh and then a bounce into the river in a very unladylike tumble. I didn’t go under—in fact the life jacket buoyed me from midchest up—but the water was icy cold. To make matters worse, the bag slung over my shoulder floated for half a second and then filled with water.
Of course my fight-or-flight reaction kicked in, and because I couldn’t flee, my natural inclination was to lash out.
“You idiot,” I screeched at Martin.
I knew it had been an accident, but it didn’t feel as if it had been. I was back on the playground, shoved away from first base by Seth and landing with my leg twisted under me while M&M pointed and laughed along the sideline.
Martin hollered, “I’m so sorry! Are you all right?”
Pete scrambled toward me, grabbed the rope to the kayak, handed it to Martin, and then stepped in front of him.
“It really was an accident,” he mouthed to me. “He didn’t do it on purpose.”
I exhaled and bobbed around a little, taking in everyone on the dock. They all looked as if they were holding their breath, as if waiting for me to completely explode.
Pete started to take off his boot, as if he planned to jump in after me.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” As I spoke, I tried my hardest not to bark, but it probably sounded a little harsh, nonetheless.
He stopped—his leg bent at the knee, his hand on his bootlace—hopped once, and then landed on both feet. All of them appeared frozen on the dock, their row of faces staring down at me.
“I may freeze, though,” I said through my now chattering teeth, “if someone doesn’t give me a hand.”
Pete quickly stepped forward, grabbed my outstretched hands, and pulled with hardly any visible effort.
I stumbled onto the dock, water pouring off me. Everyone except Pete took a step backward. I turned the heavy bag upside down. A small river cascaded out, along with the sleeve of a dress. I reached inside. The plastic bags had come undone. All of our clothes were soaked.
Pete seemed to recover. “Take my pack,” he said to Betsy, “and get Cate up to the restroom. I have a towel in there, besides clothes. Get her dried off.” He turned to Addie. “You go with them—but get the matches. And then gather twigs and wood. Start a fire. We’ll be up with the kayaks in just a minute.”
I followed Betsy and Addie into the restroom, my shoes squeaking as I went. Betsy gave me a few funny looks and, after Addie took the matches out of the pack, expertly zipped in plastic, started to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” I stepped toward the biggest stall.
“You.”
I frowned.
“I didn’t think you’d lose it in front of Pete—but you did.”
I took a deep breath.
Betsy kept talking. “But not as badly as you would have otherwise. If Pete hadn’t been here, you would have jumped out of the river and sent both Martin and Mervin over the other side of the dock.” She started laughing again. “Now that would have been a sight.”
I held out my hand and spoke through my chattering teeth. “Give me the backpack. Go help Addie.”
“You don’t need my help?” She went from laughing to sounding hurt.
“No.” I grabbed the backpack and pulled.
She let go, sending me stumbling backward, bumping against the metal door.
“You know”—Betsy stood at the exit—“Pete’s really good for you. You’re a whole lot nicer when he’s around.”
I pretended as if I didn’t hear and stepped into the stall.
“Cate?”
“I’m freezing.” I fumbled with the zipper and mumbled, “Go away.” I wasn’t sure if she heard me or not, but a second later the door closed.
I was too cold to cry, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t overcome with hurt. Betsy’s words stung, almost as much as the icy water running down my legs. Maybe hanging out with M&M had made her mean.
But I had to acknowledge there was truth to what she said. In the past I would have lashed out at Martin. And she was right, I would have said more today if Pete hadn’t stopped me. The reality of that stung almost as much as the icy water.
I pulled the towel and clothes out of Pete’s bag. Below them was a cold pack of food, which I didn’t bother to look inside. At this point I didn’t care what we were having for dinner.
There was a long-underwear shirt, a pair of sweatpants, a pair of socks, and men’s sandals. I smelled the clothes, wary of Pete’s vagabond ways, but all of it was freshly washed.
I was going to look like a fool, but I didn’t care. I stripped out of my wet things, dried off, and pulled on his clothes. I wrung out mine, over and over, getting every last drop of water out of them and then rolled them all inside the towel.
When I stepped outside the restroom, I said a little prayer, asking God to help me be nice. I was cold, tired, hurt, and hungry, plus I was feeling out of sorts wearing sweatpants and a man’s long-underwear shirt. At least I still had my Kapp covering my head.
I followed the smoke to the fire pit closest to the river. The boys had hauled the kayaks up and arranged them around the camping area. My river-logged bag with all our wet clothes had been left close to the fire. I wrung out the clothes and then put them back in, adding the rolled-up towel to the bag.
There weren’t any other groups around—probably because it was growing cold.
“Get close to the fire,” Pete said, taking the backpack from me.
I obeyed.
“I really didn’t mean to do that,” Martin said. He was scraping a stick with his knife, his sunglasses still on, his head down.
“I know.” My teeth chattered.
“No hard feelings?” He turned toward me.
“None.” I clamped my teeth shut, not wanting to waste any more energy on talking.
Pete took the cold pack f
rom his bag and pulled out hot dogs and squished buns. “Give me the stick,” he said to Martin, who obliged. He pushed a hot dog onto it and handed it to me. “Eating will help warm you.”
By the time my hot dog was cooked, Betsy’s and Addie’s were also nearly finished, and the boys had started on theirs. Pete had everyone stop what they were doing while he led us in a silent prayer.
M&M had brought catsup, mustard, and relish, and although sauerkraut would have been nice, it was still the best hot dog I’d ever eaten. I started cooking a second one as soon as I finished eating the first, and took a handful of the broken chips Martin offered me as I held the stick over the fire.
Pete sat down next to me after I finished with my supper, and then inched a little closer until our legs touched. I shivered at the contact but didn’t scoot away. In a split second, probably in response to sensing how cold I still was, he wrapped his arm around me and drew me even closer. I leaned against him, my heart thumping, wondering if he could really care for me, especially after the way I’d just acted.
Even though I wasn’t certain, a warmth began to grow inside of me. I couldn’t help but hope, after all my resolve to be happy single, that I’d been wrong about the direction my life would take.
Betsy and Addie sat next to each other, with M&M on either side. None of them reacted to Pete and me. They must have decided he was merely trying to keep me warm.
“That was good advice to bring extra clothes.” Martin nodded toward me as he went on to question Pete. “Are you always so prepared?”
“Jah, I try.” He squeezed my shoulder.
“Ach, that seems to be your way,” Martin said.
I must have looked puzzled because Martin continued, now focused on me.
“You know, he’s pragmatic. Thinking ahead. Considering his future.” Martin pushed his sunglasses higher on his nose, even though it was dusk, and Mervin nodded in agreement.
I began to blush. Was Pete courting me for my father’s money after all? I inched away from him, pulling his hand from my shoulder.
“What do you mean, Martin?” I stammered.
“Nothing.” He quickly turned his attention to Pete. “Tell us about a time when you didn’t think ahead. When you weren’t prepared.”
Pete answered immediately. “I didn’t plan very well when I left home.”
“Do tell,” Betsy said, leaning forward.
As I listened, I still pondered what Martin had been talking about.
“I let some circumstances get the best of me.” Pete made eye contact with me, but I averted my gaze, my eyes landing on the orange flames of the fire.
“How’s that?” Martin stirred the coals, and the smoke went this way and that and then chose me.
I held my breath as I waved the pungent smoke away and anticipated him talking about a lost love. I couldn’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t want to marry him, unless she learned he was after her father’s money.
But he didn’t elaborate. “I had some problems, with my brother in particular. He’d always been a bit of a sneak, but he took it to a new level.”
“We have a brother we had problems with,” Mervin said. “But he was more of a bully.”
My head shot up.
“Jah. He was always picking on us, something fierce.” Martin took his sunglasses off. “We were such nice boys too.” He was dead serious—or else more of a deadpan comedian than I ever would have guessed. “Although he’s better now that he’s married.”
“Maybe my brother got better after he married. . . .”
Suddenly I was more interested in Pete’s story than M&M’s revisionist account. I inched back toward him but not close enough that we touched again.
He continued, “You could say I was a bit of a surprise to my folks. My Mamm thought my brother would be her last, and she spoiled him. Then along I came, six years later, and she was worn out by then. The last thing my next older brother wanted was someone to replace his position, and the last thing my mother wanted was another baby—especially another boy.”
He stirred the fire more and then, as if it were a joke, said, “I don’t think she ever quite forgave me. Plus to add to the mix, I have a stubborn streak wider than”—he paused and glanced at me—“the Susquehanna. I keep trying to put a positive spin on it and convince Cate I’m persistent, not stubborn. But the truth is, there have been times in my life when I’ve been downright difficult, through and through.”
At the moment, it was hard for me to believe he was all that stubborn. I was pretty sure he was doing a humble-pie routine. Maybe persistent was the better word choice after all.
I leaned forward, a little surprised at the empathy I felt toward him, especially because I couldn’t quite shake my fear that his intentions to court me might not be as straightforward as he claimed.
He continued. “When I left I just didn’t think things fully through. Although”—he looked straight at me—“it looks as if it was all for the best.” He smiled. “Anyway, back to the story, I was mad one night and gone the next. I’d felt like a failure before in my life but never as bad as then. I did stop to talk to the bishop on the way out of town, and I left a note for my folks . . .”
“What exactly did your brother do?” Betsy was sitting on the edge of the log now, leaning toward Pete. I was glad she asked. Better her than me.
“Ah, well.” Pete seemed a little embarrassed, which M&M must have picked up on. Perhaps he’d already told them.
“That’s quite the outfit,” Mervin said to me, his voice loud and familiar.
The sudden change of subject caught me off guard.
Martin snickered, his glasses still on in the waning light, and said, “You’ve never looked so smashing, Cate.”
I felt the old defensiveness build, but then, determined not to give in to it, I put one hand at the back of my head, as I’d seen women do in old illustrations, and batted my eyes as I flopped my other wrist and the sleeve of the long underwear, which had fallen over the back of my hand. “Why, thank you, young man.”
Both Martin and Mervin laughed. My face grew warm, and not from the fire. I wasn’t sure if they thought my attempt at humor was funny—or ridiculous.
The smoke shifted toward me again. I turned to Pete and asked what time it was.
He glanced at his watch. “Eight fifteen. We should get going.”
I stood and stepped away from the smoke, over the log and toward our kayak, glancing back at M&M over my shoulder as I did—still wondering at their laughter. Goofy grins had spread across both their faces as Mervin and Martin both made thumbs-up signs and then pointed to Pete, whose back was still toward me.
Flustered, I stepped quickly into the shadows under the trees and then froze, my eyes still on the twins.
Surely I was misunderstanding what was going on.
“Our plan is working,” Martin whispered. “She’s really buying it.”
I held my breath, not sure I’d heard correctly.
“Jah,” Mervin added. “She’s practically in love with you already.”
The fire crackled behind them. My heart lurched as the smoke changed course again and filled my lungs, stealing my breath with its pungency.
I gasped for air as I stumbled back against a tree, stepping on a twig that cracked loudly as I did.
Martin, Mervin, and Pete all turned toward me, momentarily paralyzed. I did my best to act as if I hadn’t seen or heard a thing, averting my gaze until Pete’s movement caught my eye.
He calmly dumped a bottle of water on the fire. It sizzled and then sputtered. He stood, picked up a stick, and began raking it across the embers, pushing them around the pit.
In a split second, as if coming back to life, Martin and Mervin jumped to their feet and began scurrying around, collecting our garbage while Pete continued to put out the fire. Betsy and Addie stood off to the side, seemingly oblivious to what had just transpired.
I didn’t budge until Pete announced it was time for all of us to head up to t
he parking lot. Forcing myself to move, I scooped up my still-wet bag and then helped him lift our kayak, upside down, holding it with our arms above our heads. On the way I concentrated on the trail in the dim light as the coldness inside of me spread with each step.
Pete’s voice echoed inside the craft, sounding a little hesitant. “Want to go to the singing tomorrow?”
So that was how he was going to handle the situation—as if nothing had happened. “Planning ahead?” I answered, my hurt voice bouncing between us. “That’s what you’re good at, jah?”
CHAPTER
9
Regardless of the fact that I’d read many different times that getting a chill doesn’t cause a cold, I had one the next day. And I was thankful for it.
Maybe it wasn’t from the chill of falling in the water. Maybe it was from the chill of watching M&M reveal what was behind Pete’s interest. Maybe it was from the feeling inside me, one that hurt far more than the worst loneliness I’d ever felt. Whatever the reason, I was too ill to go to church or to the singing that night. Because Dat assumed I was still courting Pete, he let Betsy go without me while I curled up in bed, listening to the rain against my window and trying to concentrate on a book—something I couldn’t, for the life of me, seem to manage.
For the first time since I taught myself to read, my mind continued to wander to other things, mainly the image of M&M giving Pete their identical thumbs-up alongside their stupid grins.
I pretended to be asleep when Betsy finally came to bed, and I didn’t go to work the next day. In the afternoon, Betsy traipsed up to our room with a card from Pete that he’d given her when she’d returned his freshly laundered clothes. There was a river scene on the front of the card.
“Isn’t that sweet?” Betsy said as she handed it to me.
I took it but didn’t open it.
“I know you’re faking it,” she said, sitting on the end of my bed.
I assured her that, even though I’d done such things in the past, I wasn’t this time.