shimmered and glowed as if giant
diamonds rested below the surface.
I sighed
happily. I was glad I came. I would try to ignore my companions and
all their crazy feuds and jealousies and weird habits and just
enjoy myself in the peace of my beloved woods.
A
shooting star streaked across the night sky, followed almost
instantly by another, even brighter. I sighed in contentment.
Behind me a twig snapped, jerking me out of my revelry. I was half
way to my feet before I recognized Craig’s lumbering form. Like a
bear, he couldn’t move quietly if he wanted to.
“ Sorry to startle you, Leanne,” he mumbled, sinking to the
rocks beside me. “Nice night.”
“ Yes, it is. But I guess that they’re all nice, up
here.”
“ Some more than others.”
We sat
in comfortable silence for a long time. Overhead more shooting
stars crossed the heavens; from across the lake we could hear the
mournful cry of a loon.
“ They always sound so sad, the loons,” I said. “So
lonely.”
“ They are lonely,” Craig whispered, his voice raw with
passion. “They live most of their lives alone in their own family
groupings, but there are fewer and fewer of them all the time. The
more people, the less space for loons.”
“ We’ve seen lots of them over the past few days.”
“ Here, yes. In the park. But how many loons have you seen on,
say, Lake Muskoka?”
“ Not many.”
“ Loons verses Jet Skis. I wonder which will
survive.”
I stared
up at the stars and said nothing. His bulk moved. His arm rested
lightly on my shoulder. I patted Craig’s hand in what I intended to
be a suitably maternal gesture and shifted as far away as I could
politely get.
Craig
moved along with me. I was already half-overhanging my rock with
nowhere to go but down. So lightly that I almost could have been
imagining it, I felt Craig’s arm slip across my back and apply
gentle pressure. Without a thought, I leapt to my feet in a flurry
of arms and rash excuses.
“ It must be awfully late,” I babbled. “Time to turn in. Good
night, Craig,”
I dashed
into camp.
Behind
me I heard his soft voice, tinged with humor. “Good night, Leanne.
Sleep tight.”
Chapter 9
Day 6: Morning into Night.
The
night before, I’d promised myself to simply enjoy the trip and to
stay well out of everyone else’s business. But, like most
late-night resolutions, that one came to naught in the clear light
of the next day. As we carried all our equipment down to the
water’s edge and loaded up the canoes, I suggested to Barb that she
ride with me for a change.
She
gazed longingly at Craig. As there was no worry about sunburn, yet,
he hadn’t pulled on his shirt. It was loosely tied around his
shoulders, so that he displayed a chiseled chest, thickly matted
with a carpet of black hair. An enticing line of black curls ran
from his belly button downward, disappearing into the waistband of
his shorts, now falling low around his hips. He loaded the
equipment packs, working every hard muscle in his chest and arms.
Barb sighed with longing but her manners were far too good to
refuse my suggestion outright.
Jeremy
wasn’t happy at the prospect either, but I was long past caring
what the petulant Jeremy thought.
We
lifted our canoes carefully off the rocks and slipped them back
into their natural environment. We clambered in and were about to
get underway when Craig whispered sharply.
I looked
up to see a mother moose and her baby, high stepping and full of
grace, wading through the thicket of weeds at the water’s edge.
They tugged mouthfuls of thick plants out of the mud and munched
contentedly. We watched in silence. For no apparent reason but
interest the mother lifted her massive head and stared directly at
us. A thick length of waterweed hung from one side of her mouth.
Her deep brown eyes watched us steadily, until, tiring of the show,
she stepped out of the water leaving barely a ripple behind. The
baby followed, nose pressed
diamonds rested below the surface.
I sighed
happily. I was glad I came. I would try to ignore my companions and
all their crazy feuds and jealousies and weird habits and just
enjoy myself in the peace of my beloved woods.
A
shooting star streaked across the night sky, followed almost
instantly by another, even brighter. I sighed in contentment.
Behind me a twig snapped, jerking me out of my revelry. I was half
way to my feet before I recognized Craig’s lumbering form. Like a
bear, he couldn’t move quietly if he wanted to.
“ Sorry to startle you, Leanne,” he mumbled, sinking to the
rocks beside me. “Nice night.”
“ Yes, it is. But I guess that they’re all nice, up
here.”
“ Some more than others.”
We sat
in comfortable silence for a long time. Overhead more shooting
stars crossed the heavens; from across the lake we could hear the
mournful cry of a loon.
“ They always sound so sad, the loons,” I said. “So
lonely.”
“ They are lonely,” Craig whispered, his voice raw with
passion. “They live most of their lives alone in their own family
groupings, but there are fewer and fewer of them all the time. The
more people, the less space for loons.”
“ We’ve seen lots of them over the past few days.”
“ Here, yes. In the park. But how many loons have you seen on,
say, Lake Muskoka?”
“ Not many.”
“ Loons verses Jet Skis. I wonder which will
survive.”
I stared
up at the stars and said nothing. His bulk moved. His arm rested
lightly on my shoulder. I patted Craig’s hand in what I intended to
be a suitably maternal gesture and shifted as far away as I could
politely get.
Craig
moved along with me. I was already half-overhanging my rock with
nowhere to go but down. So lightly that I almost could have been
imagining it, I felt Craig’s arm slip across my back and apply
gentle pressure. Without a thought, I leapt to my feet in a flurry
of arms and rash excuses.
“ It must be awfully late,” I babbled. “Time to turn in. Good
night, Craig,”
I dashed
into camp.
Behind
me I heard his soft voice, tinged with humor. “Good night, Leanne.
Sleep tight.”
Chapter 9
Day 6: Morning into Night.
The
night before, I’d promised myself to simply enjoy the trip and to
stay well out of everyone else’s business. But, like most
late-night resolutions, that one came to naught in the clear light
of the next day. As we carried all our equipment down to the
water’s edge and loaded up the canoes, I suggested to Barb that she
ride with me for a change.
She
gazed longingly at Craig. As there was no worry about sunburn, yet,
he hadn’t pulled on his shirt. It was loosely tied around his
shoulders, so that he displayed a chiseled chest, thickly matted
with a carpet of black hair. An enticing line of black curls ran
from his belly button downward, disappearing into the waistband of
his shorts, now falling low around his hips. He loaded the
equipment packs, working every hard muscle in his chest and arms.
Barb sighed with longing but her manners were far too good to
refuse my suggestion outright.
Jeremy
wasn’t happy at the prospect either, but I was long past caring
what the petulant Jeremy thought.
We
lifted our canoes carefully off the rocks and slipped them back
into their natural environment. We clambered in and were about to
get underway when Craig whispered sharply.
I looked
up to see a mother moose and her baby, high stepping and full of
grace, wading through the thicket of weeds at the water’s edge.
They tugged mouthfuls of thick plants out of the mud and munched
contentedly. We watched in silence. For no apparent reason but
interest the mother lifted her massive head and stared directly at
us. A thick length of waterweed hung from one side of her mouth.
Her deep brown eyes watched us steadily, until, tiring of the show,
she stepped out of the water leaving barely a ripple behind. The
baby followed, nose pressed
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