Ready To Fall

by Daisy Prescott

  Her eyes narrowed and I knew I was in trouble.

  “Listen, lumberjack, I don’t need the ninja moves to take you out. It’s all about strength and speed.”

  She’d straddled me before I knew what was happening, and tugged my head back by pulling on the hair at my neck. My throat lay exposed, my legs pinned by hers. Her mistake was leaving my arms free. Despite her best effort to keep me pinned to the couch, I lifted her up and tossed her back on the cushions, trapping her with my body. I didn’t make the same mistake she did, and pinned her arms above her head. Her thrashing and squirming only brought our bodies closer together.

  “What were you saying?” I smiled down at her, knowing I had the gleam of victory in my eyes.

  She leaned up and found my lips with hers. My thoughts forgot all about … well, everything.

  First rule of wrestling, don’t become overconfident.

  The pressure I felt at my groin snapped me back. It wasn’t painful, but it wasn’t pleasurable. Should she have wanted to, she could have inflicted real pain with her knee, precariously positioned against my testicles. I arched my hips back and away from her pointy knee.

  My eyes found her and my triumphant gleam from earlier shone in her eyes.

  “Never leave your most vulnerable assets unprotected.”

  “You don’t play fair, ninja girl,” I said, resigned, releasing her arms and sitting back on my heels.

  “You know what they say about love and war.”

  “Didn’t know we were in either.” I laughed.

  But she didn’t.

  “No one said we were.” Her tone of voice lost the lighthearted teasing of earlier. She scrambled up on the sofa and straightened her clothes.

  I sensed I had done something to change the mood, but while I watched her and tried to figure out what it was, her smile returned. Softer and less bright, she smiled at me, then tucked herself into the corner of the sofa.

  “All this talk of ninjas and badass women has me wanting to watch Kill Bill. Let’s watch that.”

  Not a huge Tarantino fan, but if it made her happy, who was I to deny her?

  Later when it got dark, she returned home and I drove to family dinner. Simple. No drama. She even agreed next weekend we’d go fishing.

  “How do you feel about camping?” I asked Diane.

  “Like sleeping out in the woods? With bears and serial killers lurking, waiting to kill me?

  “Are the bears and serial killers working together to kill you?”

  “Don’t mock me. There are many stories about people being mauled to death because they aren’t smart enough to sleep in a bed behind a locked door.”

  “Not sure about the bears, but I’m pretty sure a locked door isn’t going to stop a serial killer.”

  We’d been talking about new experiences for the past hour. Sitting out on a boat in the early morning while waiting for Blackmouth Salmon to bite required interesting conversation topics to keep Diane awake. Most men fished for the quiet and to get away from the chatter of their girlfriends, or wives and families. Two men could sit in a boat for hours and not say a word. We liked it that way.

  Bringing Diane out on the boat wasn’t a huge mistake. Only a little one. For some reason, being out on the water made her chattier. Maybe it was nerves. Or excitement. After an hour out here without even a bite, nerves were the obvious answer.

  “Muffin?” she offered. Muffins. On a fishing boat. What nonsense was this?

  “Sure. You didn’t have to bring food.”

  “I know, but it seemed a polite thing to do. Plus, I didn’t know how long we’d be out here. We could get lost at sea or something, and later think if not for a few cranberry orange muffins, we’d be dead.”

  She definitely wasn’t an island girl. “For one thing, we’re not ‘at sea’. We’re in a sound, which means land on two sides.” I pointed over my shoulder at the coast, and then turned to point behind her at the island. “Second, we’d be in more trouble with dehydration than starvation.”

  “See? These are good things for a girl to know. I feel prepared with this lovely vest.” She patted her life vest over her windbreaker. I’d insisted she dress in layers and wear my beanie. The morning was warm for mid-April, but that didn’t say much.

  I tugged at her braid sticking out beneath the knit cap. “You look adorable.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Back to camping. I think we should go.”

  “Go where?”

  “Camping.”

  “In a tent? With bugs and peeing in the woods? Not to mention the mauling bears and lurking serial killers?” Her eyes widened with each question into something that was a mix of fright and disgust.

  “Yeah. We’ll camp someplace with toilets and hot showers. There’s something magical about sleeping outside.” I absorbed her frozen expression. “By outside, I mean in a tent. Cooking over a fire. Telling tall tales.”

  “No ghost stories though. That’s how every scary movie starts. Overconfidence in the face of the limitless terror of nature.”

  “Limitless terror of nature? Honestly? I was going to make you my famous campfire roasted bananas.” I wasn’t certain when the idea of going camping with Diane first entered my mind, but I knew it had to happen. “Don’t say we can make those at a beach fire. It’s different.”

  “You want me to go camping with you?” She tilted her head and smiled at me.

  “I do. It’ll be fun. We’ll stay on the island … for the first time.”

  “First time?” She caught my hint there’d be more than one time.

  “Trust me. Once you do it with me, you’ll want to keep going.”

  She raised her eyebrow. “Is this conversation going the same way the fishing one went? By the way, your boat is bigger than I thought it would be.”

  I choked on the coffee I’d attempted to swallow. She leaned over to pat my back. “Thanks. I’m glad you like my ... boat.”

  “It doesn’t look new like so many I see around the island.”

  “That’s because it isn’t. It was my grandfather’s. I inherited it when he passed away. Donnely helped me restore it.”

  “She’s very yar.”

  “Yar?”

  “Don’t you say yar about boats?”

  “Not fishing boats. I think that’s a sailing term.”

  “I only know it from The Philadelphia Story.”

  “Is that where you got the muffin idea? From the movies?”

  “Maybe. I read something somewhere about dried out bread or biscuits eaten on those long crossings. Figured muffins would work for us.”

  “You’re weird.” I couldn’t help myself. She was weird.

  “You’re weird.” Giving me a gentle shove, she let go of her pole. The tip bent toward the water. She had a bite.

  “Grab your pole!” I shouted at her and simultaneously reached out for it before the whole thing fell over the side.

  It wasn’t pretty and it wasn’t fast, but that morning Diane caught her first fish. And that night we ate fresh salmon inside, in my house, no bears or lurking serial killers around to test the locks.

  “This is the best salmon I’ve ever eaten in my entire life.” She moaned.

  I stared.

  She licked her lips and met my eyes. Raising her glass, she toasted to the chef. “To a man who can not only catch dinner, but cook it, too.”

  “You caught it, I only grilled it.”

  “We make a good team,” she said. “I bet you’ll be a hot commodity come the apocalypse.”

  “But not until then? Gee, thanks.” I attempted to glower at her, but failed. I couldn’t keep a straight face when she grinned at me.

  Her hair undone from her braids, I wrapped a long strand around my finger and tugged her closer. “I’m sure I don’t need to remind you how hot I am right now.”

  I watched her throat when she swallowed before speaking. “So hot,” she whispered, leaning forward to brush her lips against mine.

  “
Don’t forget it.”

  “Never.”

  “Do you believe in the coming apocalypse?” I asked.

  “Zombie apocalypse? Or rising seas and economic crisis apocalypses?”

  “Either?” I asked.

  “Both are terrifying in their own ways. I’d hate to think of a world where this beach didn’t exist, but the looming threat of flesh eating humans is terrifying.”

  “This keep you up at night?”

  “Not really. I have an active imagination, so maybe that’s why I can’t watch scary movies. At least action movies might somehow give me fight skills through osmosis.”

  “Or you could take some karate or self-defense classes.”

  “I have. Well, the self-defense class. I think everyone in my dorm in college had to do it. College campuses are dangerous places for girls. Where do you think I learned that trick with my knee the other day?”

  My hand instinctively protected my balls. “I wondered about that. Good to know you can defend yourself against monsters of the human kind.”

  “I wonder if kneeing a zombie man would have the same benefit.”

  “I don’t think you want to ever get that close. Better to aim for the head. You ever fired a gun before?”

  She shook her head. “Even though I grew up in a small town, my parents were always anti-gun. My dad didn’t hunt. Didn’t have to since patients brought him venison and duck, sometimes as payment.”

  “Everyone should know how to fire a gun.”

  “Do you hunt?” Her eyes widened and I could sense part of her was appalled at the idea.

  “Is hunting any different than fishing? Still catching food. Providing for your family.”

  “It feels different. I mean, consider Bambi.” She pouted her lips and gave me a wide-eyed look of horror.

  “I don’t hunt Bambi. Have I? Sure. But I prefer fishing.”

  “Good. For some reason that makes me feel better.”

  I laughed at her. “At least we’ll still have those skills when the zombies come.”

  “Right! Excellent point. All is right in the world. You and me against the zombies.”

  “What do you bring to this equation?” I asked.

  “Hmmm …” She furrowed her brow and pouted her lips. It wasn’t attractive, but the more I saw it, the more I found it adorable.

  “You don’t cook, you can’t bake … you have questionable ninja skills.”

  “Hey now, Lumberjack. Let me think.” Her fingers tapped on the edge of her plate.

  I crossed my arms and waited.

  “I’ve got it. My womb.”

  “Your womb?” Where was she going with this?

  “Yes, my fertile womb will nurture the hope for humanity. I’m also good at staying up late. I can take the night watches against the undead.”

  “Well then, you can stay.” Talk of wombs and fertility. This conversation had veered off into strange territory.

  “Do you want kids?” she asked.

  I raised my eyebrows in surprise. Very strange territory.

  “I’m not talking with me and my womb of hope for humanity. In the grand scheme of life way.”

  I exhaled. “Um …” I was at a loss for words.

  “Does this freak you out?” Her hand rested on my arm.

  “I’m, um …” Why did this freak me out? “Um, sure. I mean I like kids. You?”

  “I do. I did.”

  “Did past tense?” Turning the conversation back to her helped me breathe easier.

  “I’m single at thirty. Doesn’t bode too well for my chances.”

  “Thirty’s not old.”

  “Oh, I know. I’m saying the whole life plan I had with Kip got blown to pieces. Who can say what the future will bring? Best not to have a plan.”

  I growled at the name of the asshole. Good thing he lived on the other side of the country.

  “Well, I totally put a damper on this conversation. Ugh. Sorry for the kid and baby talk.”

  “No problem.” I meant it.

  “I know I freaked you out. Please don’t be freaked out.”

  “I’m not,” I lied. “You and your hope for humanity womb will be good assets during the zombie siege.”

  “Your face says otherwise, but thank you for lying.”

  “That obvious, huh?”

  She nodded. “I’m learning your ticks. You stroke your beard or tug your earlobe when you’re uncomfortable or embarrassed.”

  I didn’t remember doing either.

  “If I’ve learned anything over the last year or so it’s to read people’s body language better. You’d be surprised what people give away if you pay attention.”

  “Oh really? What does this tell you?” I stared at her lips. Enough with weird conversations about zombies and wombs.

  “I’m not sure about that one. Better to tell me. Or show me.” She smiled, knowing exactly what I was thinking.

  I kissed her and her tongue found mine. A few minutes later all talk of zombies and babies was forgotten when I picked her up and carried her upstairs.

  AFTER PROMISES OF real pillows, and much to my chagrin, an air mattress, Diane finally agreed to go camping with me the next weekend. Pillows and an air mattress for camping. I could have lost my man card on this trip.

  Rather than deal with a crowded weekend campground, I took Friday off of work to head up to the state park on Thursday. Diane adjusted her class schedule and we met up in front of our cabins late afternoon.

  “Look, we’re twins!” She twirled around, showing off her quilted vest, flannel shirt, jeans, and rain boots. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought she was a real island girl.

  “No gray sweater?”

  “Nope. Linus without her blanket. Thought you’d be proud.”

  “So proud. You have all your stuff? Please don’t tell me you’re bringing a giant suitcase for an overnight trip.” When she held up a small backpack, I smiled. “Atta girl. There’s hope for you yet.”

  “Listen, Mr. Woodsman, I’ve caught my own dinner. No city slicker here.”

  “That you have,” I said with pride. I grabbed her in a one arm hug and squeezed, inhaling her fresh citrus scent. “Ready to fight off some bears and serial killers?”

  “Agh, don’t start with that nonsense or I won’t be getting any sleep.”

  “You said last weekend you were good with staying up late to take the night watches. Are you reneging on that?”

  “That was for zombies. I’d prefer to be killed in my sleep by the likes of whatever is lurking in the woods.”

  “I’ll protect you from the woodland creatures. I promise.”

  “You better. Let’s do this so we can get it over with. I’m already thinking about the hot bath I’m taking on Saturday.”

  The short drive up the island to the campground didn’t prepare her for an old growth forest strewn with moss-covered logs and giant trees. Hidden along a regular two lane island road, the park and campground perched high up on a bluff above a rock scattered beach. Each campsite was relatively private, but I’d chosen the most private one at the far end of the loop for obvious reasons.

  “This is gorgeous,” she said, spinning around with her head tilted back to see the tall trees. “Has this been here the entire time?”

  “What?”

  “The park. Why don’t I know about this place? It’s beautiful.”

  “Yes, old growth forest. It’s existed here forever. Maybe you’re a shut-in who hides at home and doesn’t explore her surroundings.”

  “I’m not a shut-in. And if anything, I’ve been hiding out in your bed, exploring your surroundings.” She prowled closer and hugged me before standing up on her toes to kiss me.

  I kissed her back. There was a reason I wanted to bring her camping and it had little to do with moss covered trees. Something about being naked in the night air—everything felt different.

  “Okay, before we get carried away, we have to set up camp and start dinner,” I said.
r />   “Since I have no idea what any of that entails, what should I do?”

  “Help, or sit on the bench and be pretty.”

  “I’ll help,” she said. “My days of sitting around and looking pretty are over.”

  I instructed her on tent poles and grommets. A plug adapter allowed me to inflate the air mattress from the truck, much to Diane’s delight.

  “It’s like a bouncy castle in here.” She bounced on her knees inside the tent while I finished setting up the rest of our site.

  Later we sat in chairs facing the fire, our stomachs full of grilled steak and baked potatoes cooked in the ashes of the coals.

  “I can’t believe how amazing that food was.” Our hands lay intertwined on her knee and she lifted them to kiss the back of mine.

  “Everything’s better outdoors.”

  “Everything?” She tilted her head and raised her eyebrows.

  “Yep, everything.”

  “Did you bring me out to the woods to seduce me, John?”

  “I won’t lie. I did.”

  “We could’ve had sex at home.”

  “True. We have and we will again, but where’s your sense of adventure?”

  “I don’t think I had one before I met you. You bring it out in me.”

  “Glad to hear it.” I smiled at her and leaned forward to kiss her.

  A branch snapped in the dark woods behind us.

  “What was that?” she asked, turning away from me to peer into the darkness.

  “Probably a squirrel. Or a chipmunk.”

  Her face showed her fright.

  “How can you tell?”

  “First, it wasn’t a loud snap. That means it was a small critter.”

  “Or a very stealthy serial killer.”

  I ignored her logic.

  “Second, there aren’t large predators on the island.”

  A coyote howled in the distance, echoed by others.

  Diane jumped from her chair and into my lap. “What the hell was that?”

  “Coyotes. From the sound of it, several miles away.”

  “Coyotes? How could you tell they are miles away?”

  “From the sound. Trust me, you’re fine. But we can continue this in the tent if it makes you more comfortable—” I didn’t even finish my sentence before she leapt from my chair and headed for the tent. “Hey, let’s make a bathroom run before turning in for the night. I have the feeling once we get inside, you’re not going to want to go back out.”