“Forward!” the guide shouted at everyone in his raft, and the women began to row, their paddles clashing with one another in a riot of disorganization and lack of rhythm.
Michael groaned, and while the guide paddled on Jill’s side of the raft—Jill was too intent on seeing the next raft go through to paddle—Michael began to paddle on his side and kept hitting Leah’s paddle, which was constantly a moment behind everyone else. But they sailed through, soaring over rocks and water and screaming at the huge splash that soaked them in the end.
Jill laughed the loudest and turned toward Michael, her eyes and smile shining, and reached to wipe the water from his shades. He grinned at her and then inadvertently looked at Leah, who was looking at him as if he’d just grabbed Jill and laid one on her.
“What?” he asked, as Jill leaned forward to say something to the other women in the raft.
“Nothing!”
“Why are you staring at me?”
“I am not staring at you,” she said, just as her paddle bounced off a rock and rattled her.
“Hey, Blondie, let’s keep our eye on the river, okay?” the guide said to Leah. She snorted and began paddling again, almost knocking Michael’s paddle out of his hands.
They hit calmer water, and the four rafts began to battle again, splashing each other with full frontal paddle assaults and ramming each other when they could. One of the soccer moms went over the edge of her raft, much to the delight of everyone else. Cooper caught her paddle first, then her, and pulled her back in like a man who had saved a million women before.
They hit a couple more fast runs before lunch, but nothing too spectacular. Nevertheless, the women seemed to think that they had seen some real white water when they stopped for lunch and were already trading war stories about who had almost gone over on what shoot.
Michael looked at the guide from his raft. “When does it get good?” he asked.
“Oh man, about an hour after the lunch break, we hit some sweet water,” he said with a bob of his head. “You won’t be sorry.”
Easy for him to say.
The kid was right—an hour after lunch (during which Leah studiously managed to avoid him), they hit some great white water, which definitely made it worth the trip. Michael loved riding the water, loved taking the edge. His guide was down with it, and the women were inconsequential to the maneuvering of the boat.
The water was sufficiently fast enough that Leah didn’t have the time or inclination to stare at him over her shoulder. Michael was pushing it, too—the thrill of the ride was helping him let go of some of the pent-up frustration he’d been feeling. The last good shoot of the day, aptly named Bones Canyon, was awesome. It looked like a drop of about forty feet overall, flowing hard through the shoot. The guide shouted at the women to ready their oars, and on his command, to go forward as hard as they could.
Everything was going great—they were flying—but then they hit a rock, and that slammed them up against the canyon wall. Leah went flying off the side, her paddle long gone. Michael grabbed her arm with one hand and maneuvered his paddle into the boat with his other hand. Her eyes were wide with terror as he manhandled her back into the raft while the guide shouted at the rest of the boat to Move right! Move right! Move right!
They managed to get off the rock and move on, everyone in the boat, their oars accounted for, save Leah’s, and downstream, Michael could see Eli holding it up. Leah’s knuckles were white; she gripped the rope on the raft tightly as if she was afraid she’d fall in again. But she looked back at Michael with gratitude in her eyes, and that one look, that single look of crystal blue eyes, pulled at his heart like nothing else.
The rest of the trip was uneventful. They were bussed back to camp, and after showers, several of them went into the little hamlet to dine on Italian food.
Leah went, Michael knew, because he watched her board the bus with Trudy. He and the rest of TA stayed behind. Tomorrow they were doing a harder arm of the river, and they wanted to chill out and get a good night’s sleep. Eli had some excellent bourbon and cigars to put them down.
When Michael did drift off to sleep, it was Leah’s wide-eyed look of terror that filled his mind’s eye.
Chapter Twenty-Two