RiverTime

by Rae Renzi

  It ended badly. Faced with dressing her daughter in second-hand clothes, Casey’s mom lost her hold on reality. She stole the payroll of the drugstore where she worked as manager and spent it all on a designer gown for Casey.

  She got caught, of course. The police chief, an overnourished man with an undernourished ego, put on a big show. After notifying the press of his plan, he waited until Casey and the other Prom Queen nominees took the stage at the school auditorium in front of practically the whole town. Swaggering into the prom, he stole the spotlight by publicly accusing Casey’s mom and leading her away. Fueled by the need for excitement, and with a little help from bootlegged booze, the teen crowd grew vicious and heckled Casey in her ill-gotten finery. The local press, letting greed overcome compassion, jumped on the biggest scandal in years. They hounded Casey as she ran off the stage and didn’t let up until she stumbled out of the auditorium followed by the hoots and howls of her cohort. She and her mother made the front pages the next morning—Casey in tears, her mom in handcuffs. It wasn’t the kind of thing to forgive and forget.

  “I had a horrible experience with the press when I was younger. It made an impression. And that’s all I want to say about it. So, what are you?”

  Jack was thoughtful for a moment. “An architect.”

  Casey bounced up on one elbow. “No kidding? An architect?”

  Jack slid a hand into her hair. “Yes. An architect of dreams, of castles in the air. You are my fairy princess.” He rolled on top of her and nuzzled her neck. “And this fairytale has officially begun.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Fish.

  They had plenty of fish. Small, slightly bony and sometimes mud-flavored, but no doubt nourishing. It hadn’t taken much practice for Jack to hone his fishing skills. His enthusiasm had provided them with a perishable bounty. Since it had to be eaten fresh or not at all, Casey suggested they try preserving some of the surplus fish, so they decided to build a smoker. Jack thought they should dig a deep fire pit, lined with stones. They would make a support for the fish from some well-soaked sticks, toss on some green wood, and cover the whole thing with tree branches to keep most of the smoke in. They were amiably arguing the merits of various kinds of tree branches when Jack stopped midsentence and placed a finger over Casey’s mouth. “Listen.”

  Very faintly, Casey heard a low drumming sound.

  “Quick, into the cavern.”

  “What is it?” Casey asked, mildly alarmed.

  “A helicopter.”

  “A helicopter? But don’t we want them to see us?”

  He gazed back at her, a complex look on his face. “I’m not ready yet.”

  Casey glanced over her shoulder toward the sound. Her stomach dropped. The end. This was the beginning of the end. “Me either.”

  They ran to the back of the overhang, tossed a dull brown tarp over the blue tent, and dived inside, hoping that if the helicopter stayed up high, the overhang would prevent them from being seen.

  The thump-thump-thump of the helicopter got louder and louder until they could feel it vibrating through them. The sound remained stable, which meant the helicopter was hovering in one place.

  “The bathing pool,” Casey said.

  Jack, sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest, closed his eyes. “Yeah.” He sighed heavily.

  “Jack.”

  “I know. I know.” He started to crawl out of the tent when the sound of the helicopter suddenly receded.

  He looked at Casey. “No place to land.” He smiled, but it faded quickly. “They’ll be back. Probably in the morning.”

  Breaking camp was difficult. They had only been here a short time, yet every nook and cranny of the place held a memory.

  Midmorning, she walked alone up to the ledge where they’d had their wedding ceremony. It had been intense and sweet, their short-lived marriage. She wanted to fix the moment in her memory as a compass point.

  Had it only been three days ago? She drifted around the clearing, noting the kinds of wildflowers that had made up her bouquet, the soft drifts of grass spangled with dew. She walked up to the altar rock, which presided over the clearing, enduring, comforting, as marriage was meant to be. Casey felt its presence as an admonishment for giving up so easily.

  When she returned to camp, Jack was sitting on the ledge rock cross-legged looking out over the river. His face showed that he was in a different and less beautiful world.

  Casey sank onto the ledge beside him.

  He shifted to face her. “Do you still love me today?”

  She recognized the feelings that had prompted his question—she felt it too. As the minutes of the day had sifted away, she felt herself slipping from the magic and protection of RiverTime, pulled away by the tentacles of the real world.

  “Today, tomorrow, it doesn’t matter. I love you.” She placed her hand on his cheek and met his gaze. “And Jack, I don’t think that’s going to change, in this world or any other.”

  He pulled her face close, rested his forehead against hers, took a deep breath.

  Casey ran her fingers through his hair, stroking it, memorizing the silky fineness of it, the feel of it sliding through her fingers. After today, would she ever feel it again? She moved her thumb across his beard and lightly stroked his lips, stopping at the corner of his mouth. Would she ever kiss him again?

  He nibbled on the soft pad of her thumb, then took her hand in his and, one by one, kissed each of her fingers. From her fingers, his kisses traveled up her arm, her shoulder, her neck. With each kiss, his breath came faster, his lips pressed harder. She leaned her head back, baring her neck to him, reveling in the swelling wave of heat rolling through her. He snaked hands into her hair and pulled her to the ground.

  His lips found hers and he lingered, searching out different ways to kiss, every angle, every touch, every possible way their lips could meet. With each kiss, his urgency mounted, sparking a deep hunger in her. She couldn’t get enough of him. She’d never be able to get enough.

  He threw a leg over her, pinning her down with a kiss while he ripped off her T-shirt. His roughened hands gently cupped her breasts as his face moved downward. The feathery touch of his beard on her skin sent a shiver through her. His mouth, hot and wet, found her nipples, suckled them, licked them. She arched into him, begging for more. He moaned and slid his hand downward, yanking off her shorts, then his own. His fingers trembled as they touched her, found her most sensitive spot, stroked her until she was drenched and desperate for him.

  When he entered her, it was with an urgency she’d never felt in him. He wasn’t just loving her—he was possessing her, claiming every fiber of her as his own. Their lovemaking turned fierce and wild, each of them swept away in a wave of roiling emotions, writhing, pummeling and consuming each other, as if the temper of their feelings would extend the duration of their time together, until, spent, they collapsed.

  “Can we talk about it?” Casey asked Jack while they sorted through the remaining foodstuffs. “There must be something…”

  He shook his head silently. This, more than anything, made her nervous. If he wouldn’t talk, their future was doomed.

  It wasn’t indifference that caused his silence. The quicksilver smile Casey loved didn’t make an appearance all morning. Not for the beauty of their surroundings, not even for her. She reminded herself that part of this was just Jack. The night was always a little darker around Jack, the shadows under his feet a little deeper. Perhaps it was this that made the light side of him shine all the brighter, like a candle in a dark room.

  She tried to be calm, to go about the business of preparing lunch, but her motions became jerky and disconnected, like her thoughts. Jack was grieving, she realized, and that thought scared her. It meant he’d lost hope. Her anxiety mounted as she put the food on Jack’s beautiful rock table, until, without warning, tears started running down her cheeks like a dam breaking.

  Jack turned, wiping his hands on a towel, and froze. He dropped the
towel and came to her, wrapped his arms around her and held her close. She sobbed into his chest, venting the sorrow that had incremented as the minutes had passed, as she came to realize, in spite of everything, she might have to give him up.

  Jack held on to her as if she alone could prevent his soul from escaping his body. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to let you go. You’re the only one, Casey. You’re my center. I need you.”

  “You have me, Jack,” Casey whispered. “You couldn’t have me any more completely.”

  He lifted her chin and looked deeply into her eyes. She saw something change in his, a shift in perspective, or an understanding reached, she wasn’t certain what, only that it was there.

  Jack put his hand behind her neck and pulled her into a long kiss.

  Afterward, he stroked her cheek and said, “Listen. It’s going to be crazy at first, but when—”

  Suddenly the air was filled with a familiar and unwelcome thrumming. Casey pulled away from Jack as a huge shadow lifted over the top of the canyon and settled above them.

  The helicopter.

  The air was alive with stinging bits of sand and dirt, whipped into a frenzy by the helicopter’s blades. Jack covered his face with his arm and walked backward into the shelter of the cavern, pulling Casey with him. When they reached the back, he faced her, but he didn’t touch her.

  A panicked look crossed his face. “I should have told you…I thought we had time.”

  “Told me what?” Casey cried above the noise of the chopper.

  A loud shrill sounded above them, followed by a thump. A figure dangled in the air below the chopper, twirling in the turbulence.

  “Do you trust me?” Jack asked urgently, raising his voice to be heard above the racket.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Then listen to me. I need to protect you, and this is the only way. Don’t tell them your name. Don’t tell anyone—anyone—your name. Understand?”

  Casey nodded, thoroughly confused and alarmed by his insistence.

  Jack glanced at the helicopter. The rescuer was now on the ground, unhitching the line.

  “Let me do the talking. Do you have your return airline ticket with you?”

  “Yes, in my backpack. But it won’t be good anymore.”

  “It’ll be good. Las Vegas, right?”

  Casey nodded again.

  The noise suddenly abated as the helicopter suddenly wheeled away.

  Jack spoke intently. “Once you’re at the airport, just act like a normal passenger. Go check in, get on the plane, go home. Don’t tell anyone who you are, or what you’ve been through. Don’t tell anyone about us. Okay?”

  Casey frowned at him, not at all sure she liked this.

  Jack’s eyes softened. “Casey, I know this is all too strange, and it’s going to get stranger. But I hope—”

  “’Afternoon!” A stocky man in khakis strode toward them, clattering with equipment. “Sergeant Ben Cahill. I’m here to get you folks home.” He paused a moment, looking closely at Jack. “Oh, hey, you’re—”

  “Yes, I am.” Before her very eyes, Jack changed. A welcoming smile transformed his face as he shook the man’s hand. “Thought you’d never get here.”

  Ben Cahill glanced at Casey and grinned. “Yeah, I can see the wait was rough.”

  “This is…Mary,” Jack told Ben.

  Mary? Casey raised her eyebrows at Jack.

  “Ma’am.” Ben nodded at Casey. “I guess we should get a move on. That chopper will be back in a couple of minutes, so if you have some gear you want to get together, now’s the time. There’s only room for a bag each. We’ll send someone back for the rest.”

  Jack said hurriedly. “Just one thing I’ll need your help with, Ben. Mary here wasn’t a part of my crew. In fact—” he glanced apologetically at Casey, “—she doesn’t actually know who I am.”

  Ben’s eyebrows jumped. “You’re shittin’ me…I mean, sorry, ma’am, but…”

  Casey frowned. “What do you mean I don’t know who you are—who are you?”

  Jack looked at Ben and shrugged, “See?”

  Ben studied Casey, then Jack. “Well, the beard, I guess. Still…”

  “She’s a scientist,” Jack said, as if that explained it all.

  “Now wait just a minute,” Casey started, but Jack gave her a look. She closed her mouth.

  “She actually saved my life,” Jack continued. “I was knocked out. She pulled me out of the river when she saw me float by. Thing is, the publicity would ruin her life—scientists frown on that kind of thing. So…”

  “So it would be poor repayment for her if word got out.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Say no more. The pilot’s a buddy of mine. We’ll take care of it.”

  “I won’t forget it,” Jack told him. “I promise you that.”

  “It’s my pleasure,” Ben said with quizzical smile at Casey.

  “Jack, who are you?” she asked.

  He didn’t answer.

  Being hauled up to a hovering helicopter on a twisting, turning, very thin cable was an experience Casey hoped never to repeat. Ben went up first, to show them how it was done. Then Casey ascended, gritting her teeth the whole way, followed by Jack. Ben pulled them into the aircraft, pointed to their respective seats and helped Casey with her safety belt. Jack sat opposite her and buckled up while Ben scrambled into the cockpit next to the pilot.

  She was too far away from Jack to talk to him, and he wouldn’t meet her eyes. He just sat, motionless, remote. A dozen questions wheeled around in her head, like a noisy flock of birds seeking a place to roost.

  Jack was famous. Ben had recognized him—had, in fact, been dumfounded she hadn’t. Ben’s attitude made it clear Jack wasn’t criminally famous. That was good. So, whatever he was famous for might be uncomfortable, but it wasn’t likely to be shameful.

  Who was he? Was his kind of fame something she could live with, like the fame of a bestselling author, who was in the public spotlight mainly as a name, but whose fame was circumscribed and had little effect on those around them? Or was it one of those more hysterical kinds of fame, the kind that fed media frenzy, invaded every aspect of a person’s life, leaving no room for the person to breathe, or grow, or live. Her stomach heaved at the thought.

  He’d said he needed her, that he couldn’t let her go…but what did that mean? He’d also said it would be crazy at first. What did that mean? Did he have a plan?

  Act normal, he’d said, as if that were remotely possible. Get on the plane and go home. But what then?

  Ben reached back and handed a headset to Jack, who put it on and said something to Ben.

  Casey could see their lips moving as they talked, but she could hear nothing other than the deafening sound of the helicopter. Ben jotted something down, then showed it to the pilot, who nodded, then fiddled with knobs and things on the control panel. Casey’s stomach hit her shoes a second later when the helicopter tilted, then swung around dizzyingly and shot forward and away. She strained to look out the window.

  Her last view of the river, the river that had traumatized her and terrified her, and then had brought her Jack, was a silver thread winding down the canyon and disappearing into the haze.

  An hour later, or maybe two, the rhythm in the cockpit changed, with both men becoming suddenly busy. A few minutes later Ben turned around and made hand signs to them. He held up one finger, pointed to Jack, then two fingers, and pointed to Casey. Jack nodded in agreement.

  Casey assumed this meant they would drop off Jack first, then her. That meant they were going to two different places. Well, in her rapidly evolving scenario of her immediate future, this wasn’t a problem. He’d join her later. Somewhere.

  Jack finally lifted his eyes to hers. He smiled, but the smile didn’t erase the sadness.

  A few minutes later Casey’s stomach migrated upward as the helicopter sank to the ground. Ben hustled out of the cockpit, and slid open the door, then politely turn
ed to face out, waiting for Jack to collect himself.

  Jack unbuckled his safety belt, then knelt in front of Casey and put his mouth close to her ear. “I’ll find you. However long it takes.”

  He stood and clapped a hand on Ben’s shoulder. Ben shook his hand with a grin and stepped back to let him pass. Casey leaned forward to peer through the open door, trying to keep Jack in sight. He jumped down. Before Ben slid the door closed, she caught a glimpse of dozens of cars and people advancing across the tarmac toward Jack. The door closed and he was gone.

  Chapter Twenty

  Culture shock. Casey stood inside the McCarran Airport in Las Vegas, jarred by the spectacle that confronted her. After two weeks in the wilderness, any form of civilization would have required an adjustment, but Las Vegas was like entering civilization and going out the other side.

  Rows of clanging slot machines erupted with bells and whistles, the noise competing with loudspeakers she hoped weren’t broadcasting anything important. Brightly garbed and giddy vacationers rubbed elbows with somberly clad businessmen, and gambling junkies moved from one machine to another with an air of desperate gaiety. It gave her the heebie-jeebies.

  After a few minutes of habituation, Casey pulled herself together and found her way to the airline ticket counter. As Jack had said, her ticket was honored, no questions asked.

  Clutching her ticket, she slung her backpack over her shoulder and started the long walk to her gate. At the security checkpoint, she pulled off her shoes, leaving little piles of sand behind, which caused the guard to give her a disapproving frown. She sniffed hungrily at the aroma of food wafting out of the restaurants on the concourse. She never imagined a hamburger could smell so good.

  She scanned the crowd—however illogical—for a sign of Jack. Would he meet her at the gate? He had to, she realized. She’d never told him where she lived. Her eyes drifted over the throngs of people, but the overhead televisions clamored for her attention. One flashed the banner ***Breaking News*** at the bottom of an eerie scene.