by Karina Halle
But I have some strength left now.
As my side hits another rock, I reach out and grab it, using my legs to push off through the current until both arms are over the rock and I’m hugging it close to me, holding onto it for dear life as the current tries to rip me away.
“Help,” I try to yell but my voice is so weak, buried by the roaring waves and white water.
But I think I can hear something else above it. A muffled voice. A panicked voice.
Logan’s voice.
“Veronica!” he yells, and at that moment I realize how silly I’ve been to be mad at him for never calling me Ronnie. How dumb and trivial that was, how dumb and trivial everything was, my whole feud with him over Juliet. What was their business was their business, not mine. I’m going to die now and nothing else really mattered all this time.
“Veronica!” he yells again, closer now, and I manage to raise my head and see him scrambling over the rocks near the edge. I want to yell at him, to tell him to stay where he is, that he’ll be swept away too but I can’t. I can barely hold on.
He’s in the water now, the water rushing against his chest, but he’s strong and he’s solid and he’s immovable. His eyes are laced with a fear I’ve never seen before on him, that I’ve never seen on anyone. I feel like we’re both facing death head on.
“Hold on, just a few more seconds,” he says, his voice deep and commanding, yet shaking all the same.
He comes closer. Just feet away. He can almost grab me.
I start to slip. I have no strength left to grip.
“No!” he yells. “I’m not losing you, too! Hold on.”
I can’t.
I can’t.
I let go.
Just as he reaches out for me.
His hand wraps around my elbow, and with a roar of strength he pulls me toward him and out of the whirling pool and into the side stream.
“Hold onto me,” he says as his arm slips around my waist in a vice-like grip. My own arms are weak and shaking but he’s got me. He moves through the water, the stream rushing over my mouth at times until I’m spitting it out and then suddenly the water slackens. It’s at my chest, at my waist, at my thighs, and now Logan is dragging me onto the rocks on the side of the stream where it meets the beach.
He’s breathing hard, leaning over me. The rain falls into my eyes until I blink it away.
“Are you hurt?” he asks, running his hand over my head.
I close my eyes, not sure whether to say yes or no. I don’t know. I just want to breath, want to find my breath again, get that assurance that I’m alive.
There’s a rustling beside us and I’m aware of muffled, panicked voices.
“Someone’s running to get help.”
“Is she alive?”
“Anything broken?”
“Can the helicopters land in this wind?”
“That was a close call, that was such a close call.”
“I’m so sorry I yelled.”
I can’t pick out the voices, I know they all belong to the dozen people stuck here on this side. I know that none of them dared to cross after what happened to me.
“Give us a minute, please,” Logan says to them. I feel his hand on my forehead, touching it gently. “Veronica. Someone is going to get rescue. If the helicopters can make it, they’ll come get you out. They’ll take you the hospital.”
I shake my head softly. “No,” I croak. “I think I’m…I’m fine. Just bruised.”
“Regardless,” Logan says, “you need to be checked out. You could have a concussion.” He pauses, his fingers trailing down my cheek. “Dammit. Dammit, I thought I fucking lost you. I am so sorry.”
His voice sounds so broken, so unlike him, that I open my eyes and peer up at him.
“Don’t be sorry,” I tell him. “I’m the one who wanted to come on the hike. And I did it because I wanted to annoy you. Seems like it worked.”
He’s not smiling. “I shouldn’t have let you cross. I saw the water levels, I saw the current, I should have stopped you.”
“I would have gone anyway,” I tell him. “You like the stubborn girls.”
He frowns at me for a moment, his gaze intensifying. Then he nods, licking his lips. “I do. I do like the stubborn girls.”
I was joking. It was a bad joke. But now he’s answering me seriously.
“Anyway,” I say, unsure how to go on. I’m shaking over what happened, my body torn by the thrill of being alive and the fright of almost dying.
“Anyway,” Logan says. He lets out a soft breath of air. “If the rescue team can’t get us, we’ll be stuck here overnight. Believe it or not, it happens all the time.”
I swallow hard at the thought. I just want to go back to the hotel. Even a hospital bed wouldn’t be that bad. After all that just happened, the last place I want to be is here, overnight in the wet, soggy, and endlessly dangerous wilderness.
“If it comes to that, I’ll make us a shelter. If someone here was doing the whole trail, they might be able to lend us a tent. There’s a real sense of camaraderie here when this kind of thing happens. We’ll be okay. I’ve got food in my backpack. It’s a bit wet but it will dry out.” He pauses. “The worst is over. I’ll take care of you.”
I’m not sure that the worst is over. But the fact that he said he’ll take care of me, that’s warming my chest, easing the shivers that have been rocking through my body ever since he pulled me ashore.
Eventually I find the strength to sit up, then stand up. With Logan’s arm on me at all times, he leads me back over to the crowd. Everyone is super friendly and concerned and preparing for a night at the beach. The stream is still raging, even higher than it was earlier, which means that the rains won’t let up for a while and there’s no way we could cross it on our own until tomorrow.
The hikers on the other side of the water are almost all gone except for Nikki and Daniel. When they see me alive and on my own two feet, they literally jump up and down, hugging each other, before they turn and head back on the trail to go back to the hotel and tell everyone what happened.
It’s not long after they leave that a couple of rescue workers and a lifeguard from Ke’e appear on the other side, but with the water still raging, they can’t cross. There’s a lot of yelling back and forth over the stream as they tell us that we have to stay put. The helicopters are having trouble in the weather and none of the zodiacs can brave the surf. Unless the wind and rain ease up before nightfall, we have to prepare for a long night.
Luckily there are a few hikers who had come back along the rest of the eleven-mile trail and have a few supplies. There are no tents for Logan and I, but they do have a small tarp for us to rig up somewhere to keep out of the rain, as well as an apple, trail mix, and packet of beef jerky. Not exactly dinner but at least we won’t starve to death. Besides, I’m pretty sure if either of us felt adventurous after all that, we could probably hike into the bush and grab some wild mangoes or papaya. I make a note of asking Logan later if he can climb up some coconut palms.
“Keeping dry is the most important,” Logan says as he grabs my hand, wrapping his fingers around mine. His palm is warm, his grip strong. He holds my hand like he means to save me.
He leads me up a small path, away from the stream and the rest of the group. “Even though it’s warm and humid, the constant rain here can make you nearly hypothermic. You’re already cold from being in all that rainwater in the stream.”
“So are you,” I tell him quietly as we walk further into the jungle, my hand still in his.
“I have chest hair,” he says. “I’m insulated.”
He stops and gestures to an area where the cliff walls come into the path and a large, broad-leafed tree acts as an arch over it. “Here. There’s dirt there that’s somewhat dry. We can hang the tarp from the tree. With the overhang from the cliff, it’ll create a bit of shelter. I’ll start a fire, and we’ll be dry in no time.”
He turns to walk away. “Just stay here,
the path up there leads out of the valley, it’s wet and steep and dangerous.”
Like I’d go anywhere, I think as I sit down on the narrow patch of dry red dirt by the cliff wall. My hand feels bare without his, my skin tingling.
He disappears from sight and it’s only then that everything hits me. What happened, where we are, what’s next.
But it’s not even the ache in my muscles from the hike, the bruises that are popping up on my limbs from slamming into the rocks, the cold that’s starting to seep into my bones, despite the fact that the temperature is at least in the late 70’s.
It’s not even that I’m going to be stuck in the wilderness overnight, waiting for rescue.
It’s that for the next twenty hours or so, I’m going to be alone with Logan. Sleeping with him, even.
And there’s nothing scarier than that.
Because there’s a small, terrifying chance that I actually might like it.
I can only hope he doesn’t feel the same way.
10
When Logan comes back from the others, he’s carrying some matches, sticks, a few logs and a small white square.
“What’s that,” I ask, nodding at the square.
“Firestarter,” he says, placing it on the dirt in front of my feet. “Light this up and almost anything will burn. Found some relatively dry kindling as well. It won’t last all night but it will get us dried off. As long as the wind doesn’t pick up, the tarp will hold and keep us dry.”
I nod, biting my lip for a moment. “Have you ever been in a situation like this before? I mean, stranded in the wilderness kind of thing?”
“You think this is a regular occurrence for me?” he asks, cocking one brow as he eyes me.
I shrug. “Well you’re Australian, didn’t you hike into the outback and wrestle crocodiles on the regular? I’ve seen Crocodile Dundee you know.”
He watches me for a moment before getting all the kindling together. “You’re taking the piss, aren’t you?”
“When aren’t I?” I tease.
He places the white square in the center of the sticks and strikes a match. The second the match meets the square, it goes up in bright flames.
“Whoa. That stuff works,” I tell him.
He murmurs in agreement. “And to answer your question, yes I have been in situations like this before. In Australia. My brother is a tour guide out of Darwin. I may not be Croc Dundee—God forbid that bloody name is even mentioned in my country—but if anyone is like that, it’s him. He’s dragged me out on one too many adventures.”
“You have a brother?” This is the first I’d heard of this.
“Kit,” he says, adjusting the kindling so it will catch. “About five years younger. The same difference as you and Juliet.”
“He wasn’t at the wedding,” I note. Come to think of it, I don’t think any of his family was. It was just hard to notice since there were so many people there I didn’t know, thanks to the reach of my mother. Talk about wedding of the century.
“No,” he says. “He wanted to but finances were tough at that time for him and he wouldn’t let me pay his way. As for my parents, I only have my mum and she’s not doing so well. She’s suffering from a whole whack of autoimmune disorders and flying does a number on her.”
“Oh,” I say quietly. “I’m sorry. I had no idea…”
“That I even had a family?” he asks, glancing at me quickly before putting a few logs on the fire. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t. I reckon I know a hell of a lot more about you than you know of me.”
I want to argue that, even though I know it’s true. Still, I want to hear him talk. “Oh yeah? What could you know about me?”
He dusts off his hands and comes over, stooping under the blue tarp, the rain falling methodically on it. He settles down beside me, his long, strong legs to the side of the fire. His shoulder rubs against mine as he adjusts himself and my eyes are drawn to his neck, wondering what he would taste like. Probably mud.
“Well, let’s see,” he says, admiring the fire the way I’m sure Early Man did, proud that he has provided and ensured our survival. “I know that you hate being wrong.”
“That’s not true. I just hate it when you’re right.”
His face turns to me, the glow of the fire lighting up his profile. “So you admit I’m usually right.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Right,” he says slowly, a small smile teasing his lips. “I know that you’re a terrible singer.”
“A new discovery,” I concede, trying not to cringe over my rendition of “Kashmir.”
“I know that you’re not left-handed, but you put your fork in your left hand when you eat.”
He noticed that? “A minor quirk,” I explain. “Doesn’t mean you know me.”
“I know you would rather think the best of someone than the worst, and I know no matter how many times they disappoint you, it doesn’t make you jaded in the least.”
His eyes stay locked on mine, a thread of intimacy between us. How could he know that about me? I’d never thought of Logan as someone who watched me that closely. Sometimes it looked like he did, that intensity in his gaze, as if he was studying you, observing, taking you all in. Not quite like a lab subject, more as a mystery to be solved. But even so, I assumed his thoughts were always on anything else other than me.
He goes on. “And I know that you’re damn good at your job. That’s one of the reasons I hired you.”
I frown, puzzled. “How would you know? Had I ever cooked for you before I came here?”
He nods. “Yes. You didn’t know it. I went into your restaurant last time I was in Chicago. It was around noon. I saw you back there in the kitchen, and I saw you work on it. Spinach fettucine with shitake mushrooms and parm. Best I’d ever had.”
I’m amazed. Floored, even.
“What…was Juliet with you?”
He shakes his head. “Just me.”
“You came alone? Why?”
He stares into the fire, running his hand over his strong jawline, his beard sounding rough against his fingers. Above us the rain drips on the tarp, in the distance is the ever-present roar of the stream and the angry surf. The world doesn’t seem to pause, but everything between us does.
“I wanted to prove everyone wrong,” he eventually says.
“I don’t…I don’t understand.”
He eyes me, his gaze resting momentarily on my lips. “Your sister. Your mother. Even your own father. None of them have any idea of what you do, what you’re capable of. They just talk. They don’t see. And I thought otherwise. So I went and checked it out for myself. And I was right.”
I can’t even believe it. My brain racks back, wishing I could have remembered that day.
“Do you remember Christmas?” he asks.
I nod.
You stood up for me.
“That was just an example…of their ignorance. Everyone is always so blinded by your sister.”
“Was blinded,” I correct him, my voice barely a whisper. I’m not sure we should even be talking about her in anyway other than complimentary.
“No,” he says. “Still is. Present tense. When your sister died…she died as the person everyone loved. I know that she was what you were always measured against, and I knew after she died, that it wouldn’t stop for you. If anything, it would be worse, because she’d forever be unflawed. And you…you’re full of flaws.”
I blink a few times. My heart is thumping louder, like it’s trying to break out of my ribs. “Thanks.” As if I needed a reminder of how imperfect I was. “You were blinded too, then.”
“Yeah,” he says softly. “I was.” He sighs, then props his elbows up on his knees. “You know that’s a compliment, right?”
“What is? That I’m terribly flawed?”
“Yeah.”
I roll my eyes. “I shouldn’t be surprised that you don’t know what a compliment is.”
“Yeah? But it is one. Because you wear your
flaws, proudly. You are who you are. You aren’t ashamed of it. You tell the world that you’re real and you’re trying. Why else would you be here?”
“Because I had no choice,” I mutter. “We both know it. My mother made you hire me.”
“You mother has never been able to make me do anything,” he says, his voice gruff. “She’s the most flawed of us all, and you know that. It’s what makes her weaker than you’ll ever be. Because you have strength in every dark crevice, you’ve had to fight and you have the scars. That’s why you scare her, that’s why you scared both of them.”
“Both of them?”
He breathes out loudly through his nose. “You never realized that Juliet was afraid of you, did you?”
I balk at that. Literally flinch. “What the hell are you talking about?”
He twists to face me, his dark eyes glimmering from the fire. “You marched to the beat of your own drum. Juliet never got to do that. Her destiny was controlled from the moment she was born. Why do you think she married me? It was her only chance to rebel. To escape.”
I swallow hard. All these truths coming out at once are a little hard to take, and what he’s saying is exactly in line with what my mother was saying over the phone this morning. “I thought it was because you two were in love.”
He doesn’t say anything to that. Instead, he gets to his feet and walks out from underneath the tarp. “I’ll be right back,” he says. “I should get some more wood before it gets dark.”
And then he’s gone.
Fuck.
The idea that Juliet was afraid of me, when all this time I was afraid of measuring up to her has a hard time sinking in. I’m not even sure I believe it. Juliet was perfect. I’d never heard anyone say a bad thing about her, never saw her look or act less than anything beautiful. If she was suffering underneath it all because of the expectations my mother put on her, she never, ever showed it. If anything, those expectations were then handed down to me because my mother told the whole entire world how much she loved Juliet. Hell, she told her how much she loved her. I heard it, all the time, and I remembered it because it never sounded the same when it was directed to me.