"Just stay crouched down in the raft. No one will even notice. They'll dry faster in the sun than if you continue to sit in them," Jake says as he continues to navigate the raft with an oar in his hand.
I do need to get out of these denim shorts and they would dry faster if they lie on top one of the raft seats, exposed to the sun. The bottom of the raft is dry, so I kneel down, trying to be discreet as I undo my top button and slide down my zipper. I peel the shorts down to my knees when Jake offers to give me a hand.
I slide onto my backside while Jake kneels down to pull them off. Being wet, the denim does not slide off easily. It was more of a spectacle than I had expected. Jake is kneeling over me with my wet shorts in one hand as he is supporting himself with his other hand. My feet end up in the air and I am now lying in my lace underwear and T-shirt.
When I pull myself to an upright position in the raft, I make eye contact with a family we have pulled adjacent to in the river. The mother in the next raft is covering her child's eyes and nudging her husband to look away from me. Jake did not see we had drifted alongside their raft as he was busying himself with my wet shorts. I shield my face with both of my hands, embarrassed by the scene I have caused on the river and I slouch down to the bottom of the raft. Jake chuckles at my mortification. Instead of grabbing an oar and quickly rowing us away, he falls on top of me and overwhelms me with loud kisses.
I can't help but giggle and playfully slap his chest.
"Jake, you are bad, so very bad. That poor mother over there is completely appalled and then you go and make it worse."
Jake has a sheepish grin on his face. "Well, I just thought I'd give them something to look at before they paddled frantically down the river away from us.”
Jake looks around. "The husband was just jealous I get you in my boat.”
I shake my head, smile, and hold out my hand. "Hand the shorts over so I can lay them on one of these inflated seats in the back of the raft."
Jake makes a tsk-ing noise and wags his finger. He keeps the shorts out of my reach. "It'll cost you first.”
He taps his finger on his cheek, gesturing me to kiss him for the return of my shorts. I roll my eyes before reaching to kiss his lips.
"Satisfied now?"
"I'm getting there."
I just caught a glimpse of what this twelve-mile river excursion is going to entail within the crevices of the mountainous passageway. Jake is going to become bored and tease me relentlessly. The water isn't flowing rapidly, so it isn't going to be a quick fishing trip.
I snatch my wet shorts from his grasp to lay them out to dry. As I turn away from him, my laced behind is in his view. He playfully slaps it.
"Jake!" My voice echoes off the water.
"It's different here. It’s not like at the cabin. There are people here, guys fishing. It's not like fishing is a fast-paced sport. Everyone will notice."
He inches his way closer and slides his hands around my waist.
Jake smirks, "I couldn't help myself. It was up in plain sight.”
He leans down to kiss me as his fingers make their way down around the backside of my waist, past my lace, then sliding to my cheeks. I teasingly slap his hand as our raft floats toward a man on the banks of the river, adjusting his fishing line.
"You’re not going to catch anything today, are you?" I ask.
"Well, I got a bigger raft than what we needed, but it still doesn't give you a lot of place to run and hide, so I'm sure I'll catch you pretty easily," he says, completely amused by himself.
"That's not what I'm talking about."
"I know. I'm just giving you a hard time.”
Jake opens his tackle box to assemble the fishing poles.
"You just look so cute floating down the river in your T-shirt and panties."
I tilt my head to one side. "Jake, are there even fish in this river?”
"Liz, you disappoint me. I wouldn't trick you like that." He winks at me.
"Okay, then, cast me a line. I assume you brought an extra pole for me."
"Of course I did. I can't wait to see you lasso out a line and wrestle in a rainbow or a cutthroat trout.”
Jake prepares a fishing pole as I sink myself down into the raft, finding a comfortable position. I sit, crisscrossed, at the bottom of the raft as I watch Jake hook and toss out my line. I reach for the pole as he hands it off to me while he prepares his line.
"You know I'm going to catch the biggest fish on this river today,” I say.
Jake leans over to kiss me.
"You are only going to bring me more luck, you know," I add.
He leans down again and takes my breath away as his lips pierce mine. His hands do not return to his line, but instead, he cups my face into his hands and kisses me deeper. One hand finds one of my breasts to cup.
I pull away from him to point over his shoulder.
"Jake, we are going to run into those boulders on the right if we don't paddle back to the center of the river.”
Jake grabs an oar to steer the raft back on course. He finally ties his own line and casts it out into the water. I prop my feet up against the side and lean my head against an inflated seat.
"Jake, I'm not a rafting expert, but I'm pretty sure if you sit right next to me, we will off balance this oversized raft and capsize it. I don't want to get back into the freezing cold water if I don't have to."
“It will be fine,” he says as he gives a dismissive wave before settling himself next to me. “The tackle box will balance the front and the heavy lunch basket will steady things in the back. We’re not on a rapid river; it’ll be fine.”
I lie next to Jake, pole in hand, floating down the calm river, waiting for a fish to bite.
“Jake, I don't mean to stick my nose where it doesn't belong, but do you mind if I ask why you don't have a need for money? I know it's not my place. It's just that most people carry around tens and twenties while you, on the other hand, always have a handful of hundreds. It’s almost as if you have no need to worry, about money, that is.”
“Of all things, money is the one thing I don’t have to worry about. It's not how anyone would really want to come into money. It’s not enough to set me up for a lifetime and I am trying to be frugal with it. After my dad died, my mom became more and more reckless. My grandpap urged my mom to increase her life insurance. He must have known she was going down a dangerous road in her life. He had taken on looking after me in many ways. Between the death of my dad and the death of my mom, that left my grandpap as the benefactor. He then made investments that would tie me over. He built the cabin and paid off the house in San Diego.”
“What house in San Diego?” I ask, prying.
“The house I grew up in. Doug's sister lives there now. She is managing everything in lieu of rent. I don’t have the heart to sell it out from under her since she is a single mom, now raising two older teenagers. As far as I'm concerned, it’s hers. She's like a sister to me, so I wouldn't have it any other way. Besides, if I get an itch to go surfing, I just stay in the pool house.”
“Is that the reason why your truck has California plates?”
“Yeah, I still maintain residency there. It will make things easier when I go back.” He said it again: “When I go back.” It’s a sure thing, but when?
“I didn't realize everything my grandpap had taken care of until he died last year and left everything to me. If I could rewind things, I would rather be in San Diego, living around the corner from my dad. But that idea is long gone, so here I am now.” Jake explains it as if he has a shallow existence and the grown up toys in the world could not fill his lonely world.
“The property was given to my grandma as a peace offering from her family. She left Calgary to attend school in the States. She fell hard for my grandpap while at Berkeley. When she married a Navy Seal who went to Vietnam, her family disowned her. They regretted that decision many years later. She was given this property to have a reason to visit.”
“My g
randpap loved it the second he stepped foot on the property. He called it his escape ‘beyond the border.’ My dad felt the same, but my mom hated it. She loved sunny California and never wanted to leave. Most of the time, we would fly into Calgary; we rarely drove the entire distance. I'm like my dad and grandpap, in that I get bored with the same temperate climate. It's nice to experience all four seasons. Besides, it only drops about ten degrees cooler in the winter than what you are used to in Utah.”
My eyes widen as I sit upright in the raft. "Are you trying to prepare me for the coming of winter?"
Jake rubs my knee. "Well, if you can bear the elements, I did get you your own snowmobile. You can ride it home if you’d like," Jake says dryly.
Jake reaches over and wraps each of his arms around my thighs as he forces his voice into a serious tone. "Liz, I don't have any plans. I don’t make plans anymore. I don't have any major commitments right now. I'm just figuring things out as I go. If there is something you want to do or if there is something you need, then make a plan and we can do it.”
I lean in and gently kiss him. “This. Doing this is my plan.”
A smile blossoms on his face as he returns a kiss to me. This time, I do not care about who sees us being intimate in the raft. I don't care about the fishermen hoisting out their anglers or recreational rafters. All I care about is that I am here with Jake and he is talking to me. He is confiding in me. He loves that I am with him. I know that much and it is enough for me. My eyes and my kiss reassure him that he is enough for me in return.
There are rough patches of white water near protruding rocks in the river we need to steer away from using oars. While on the river, I feel like nestling in the bottom of the raft to take a nap. Especially since I didn't sleep well the night before as I stayed awake, waiting for an appearance from a night terror.
I not certain if sleeping with Jake helps. It seems to help, but I'm no expert. I have no experience with night terrors. I sleep better when I am with Jake, perhaps because he is sleeping better. What if there comes a time when I am not enough?
Jake has caught three fish when I squeal with excitement, reeling in my first fish. Jake grabs hold of the fish once he is close enough to get a grip on the scales and releases the hook from its mouth.
"You caught the biggest fish, Liz!"
“You are just saying that to make me feel good so I'll go fishing with you again."
"No, I'm being totally honest with you. This is the biggest one I'm plopping into the cooler.”
I peek into the cooler and say, "They all look the same to me.”
I crinkle my nose. "I'm not going to descale and debone those. I am usually a good sport, but not when it comes to gutting a fish. I'd rather cook them whole and pick the bones as I eat.”
"So you are telling me you have rules when it comes to fish?" Jake scoffs.
I playfully slap him on the shoulder, "I'd rather catch and release. Not catch, kill, descale, debone, and fillet it butterfly-style in a frying pan."
"Okay, we'll grill them over the fire pit outside tonight."
“Good, because I also cannot stand the smell of fish, any fish, being cooked indoors. The lingering smell drives me crazy.”
Jake doesn't hook my line; instead, it is carefully collapsed and put away. Jake keeps his line out. I shake my shorts to find they are as dry as they are going to get. I struggle putting them back on while still in the raft. Jake laughs at me. I give up and remain in my white lace panties.
As I lie lazily in the raft, fully exposed to the sun, I look down and notice my upper thighs are pink. I lift up the elastic waist to find there is a distinct line. I grimace. This is going to hurt tomorrow. Jake grabs the sunblock and rubs down my thighs and arms. He gently runs lotion over my nose. My freckles must be multiplying in the sun. I return the offer of applying lotion on him, even though he is tanning perfectly under the rays of the sun. I start with his face, and then navigate my fingers to his neck. I ask him to remove his shirt so I do not get lotion on the cotton or miss a spot.
I apply sunscreen to the back of his neck and down his spine, hooking around his waist, then to his shoulder blades. I massage the lotion on his biceps and forearms. I study his tattoo and as I rub lotion. The stories this tattoo could tell if only it spoke. Jake is not uneasy with me seeing it or touching it anymore. I lean to kiss his left shoulder, the one marked with his past. The gruesome terrors he has seen that cannot be pushed out of his mind; the smoke, the debris, the smell of blood burning and the wretched smell of charred bodies. I know he wakes every morning and has to relearn how to move forward again.
Jake takes hold of my chin. He leans down to kiss me. My fingers clasp around his neck and I melt into his strong embrace. This time, my hands reach down to his elastic waistband and he is not slapping them away. We crouch down low into the raft so no one can see the things we do to one another.
Jake covers my mouth with a kiss so my moans do not echo through the canyon. He knows I scream at his touch. I stay tucked under him, quivering as he tickles me. My toes curl on the raft where they once hung over. There are sensuous movements with his hands.
During this quiet time along the river, I see Jake completely tranquil. This experience cannot be simulated anywhere else. The setting is picturesque and time escapes us on the river. This is where true, long lasting impressions are made and our relationship deepens. Everyone in this world needs that; and we are finding it with each other.
There are lessons in life that hurt, some that make you bleed, and other lessons help you succeed. Maybe the fishing is only mediocre today, but we still laugh, joke, enjoy one another, and talk. It's one of those days when it doesn't matter how many fish we catch because time with Jake is priceless. I do not want to trade the memory I am making for anything. This memory will exist with me for the rest of my life. I have to hold onto and cherish this because I don't know if I'll be here next summer, doing this with Jake.
The river doesn't come to an end; rather, there is a ramp where you have to steer over to get out of the water. As I look downriver, water is running rapidly into white water. All rafts are exiting where the water is calm. As we step out of the raft, the piercing cold water is beyond my knees. I'm glad I didn't put the denim shorts back on, only to soak them with the cold river water again.
The man attending the raft watches me as I pull my now dried denim shorts back on and button the top button.
Jake swats his shoulder, "HEY!"
I grab the empty lunch basket and deposit our trash in the large public dumpster before placing it with the rest of the gear in the back of the truck. The western horizon flares as we drive back to the cabin. The night is fully upon us when Jake backs the truck into the garage.
Chapter 35: Liz
The front door of the cabin springs open as three little girls run straight to Jake.
The oldest announces, “It came, Uncle Jake! It came! The delivery guy in the big brown van dropped it on our doorstep yesterday. My dad said we had to wait until we got here for you to open it. Open it! Open it! Open it!”
The girl presents the box in her arms to Jake as if it was Christmas morning. Jake pulls his keys from his back pocket to tear through the packaging tape, revealing its contents. They all know what it is, but they haven’t laid their eyes upon it. They are all vibrant as Jake opens each flap slowly to get their anticipation to heighten as if he were Santa pulling something out of his big red sack.
All three squeal in unison, “The kite! It’s here! It’s here! It’s finally here!”
I walk over to get a closer look to see what all the excitement is.
Ashley, the oldest, holds it up. “This isn’t just any kite you make at school. It’s not a flimsy one you get in your Easter basket.”
Jake reads the assembly instructions before he gently takes the kite from the girl’s grasp.
“It’s the kind you have to put together very carefully and it’s huge! I can’t wait! I can’t wait!” She bounces up and d
own, clapping her hands.
Doug enters the cabin, carrying a diaper bag over his shoulder and a toddler dressed in pink. The youngest girl, Hailey, upsets a packed canvas bag she is carrying, filled with crayons, markers, and coloring books on the coffee table. The middle girl, Emily, empties from her tote bag a dozen picture books onto the floor near the fireplace.
“Hey, man, I told them they had to wait for you. You’re the kite flying expert, not me.”
Doug sets down the toddler, who waddles over to the coffee table to pick up a marker, only to place it into her drooling mouth.
“Jennifer went to her craft club and took the baby with her, so she won’t make it today.”
Jake doesn’t seem concerned Jennifer didn’t come along.
“Let’s take the kite outside,” Jake suggests. He leans over to whisper, “And take the decibel level in here down many notches.”
I shake my head. Why would he be worried about the decibel level inside? His warfare games are much, much louder. Jake takes the box containing the pieces of the kite to the porch with Ashley breathing down his neck. He lays out each piece before constructing it properly. Zeke has already trotted away from the unfamiliar company to a spot on the porch far away from the chaos of the girls.
I stay inside the cabin with the younger girls. One is enthralled with her coloring, so I ask the other girl, Hailey, to help me in the kitchen with chocolate chip cookies. She nudges her glasses between her eyes and nods. I take her hand to lead the way, showing her where the ingredients are stored.
Hailey helps me carefully measure the dry ingredients and turns the mixer on to cream the wet ingredients together. I don’t swat her hands away as she nibbles on morsels of chocolate from the bag since I don’t mind if my own kids have sneaky fingers while they help me bake. I hand off the rubber spatula for her to lick clean.
Hailey has a villainous grin on her face as she says, “My mom never lets me lick the spoon when she makes cookies.”
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