Page 42 of Falling for the Enemy

Jack’s throat moved with a deep swallow as he looked at me. “I don’t want to go back to square one, Lo. If I could erase all my boorish behavior I would. Better yet, if I could find a rational explanation for it, I would. I think—I think—maybe it was—” He shook his head. “Never mind. Let’s go find that breadfruit.”

Usually it was me hurrying off, not wanting to stand in the inexplicable awkwardness of what was taking place between us, but this time it was Jack. I watched him, his broad shoulders tensed as he continued into the trees. We left the unfinished conversation just as it was—unfinished. The discovery of a breadfruit tree helped whisk it out of our minds … at least for now.

We both stood under the tree and stared up at the lowest hanging fruit, which was anything but low. “Could really use a ladder right now,” I said.

“Don’t need a ladder when you’ve got Jack Sprat, the tree-climbing brat.”

I laughed. “Uh, I think the poem had something to do with eating no fat. I don’t remember the tree climbing version.”

“No, but Jack and sprat rhyme so nicely, my brother used it all the time, and the tree-climbing brat part was added on after a summer I spent deciding to climb every tree in the local park. Almost made it too, only the park ranger figured out what I was doing, and he put an end to my mission about three trees from my goal. It was very disappointing falling short by just three trees. And now I’m going to do my nickname proud by picking those two plump breadfruit from the top branches.”

Jack stood back like a pro to examine his options and find the best route up the tree. He reached for the biggest low branch.

“How old were you when you climbed the park trees?” I asked urgently.

“Nine. Why?”

“It’s just that thirty years might have stolen some of your tree climbing ability, and I don’t want to have to give piggyback rides across the river to both you and Norm.”

The big, fleshy green leaves of the tree shook and waved as he hoisted himself up to the first solid branch. He stared down at me through the dark green foliage. “Are you saying I’m old, Lo?”

“I’m saying you’re not nine anymore. At nine I could spin around and around and never get dizzy. Now, in my thirties, if I turn around from the refrigerator too fast, the room spins. Our talents are all relative to this small, somewhat crucial thing calledaging.” He moved up to the next branch. “And you’re going anyway, so carry on.”

The breadfruit tree was thick with leaves and probably thirty feet tall. They could grow way past that, so I was thankful that we’d at least found a mid-sized tree. The foliage was so thick, Ilost sight of him for a few seconds and was only able to track his movements by the vibration of branches.

“Watch for snakes,” I called up the tree. “They like to climb trees and wait for unsuspecting birds … and university professors.”

Jack’s face suddenly peered between two big leaves. He was a good fifteen feet up. “Thanks for that subtle reminder.”

Branches continued to shake, sometimes violently enough for leaves and small branches to snap off. “You’re about five feet below the fruit if that helps,” I called up to him.

The white of his shirt made him easier to track once he moved out of the thick leaves to some of the farther jutting branches.

“I’m impressed,” I called up to him. I was now looking so forward to breadfruit I decided to cheer him on just to make sure we had fried breadfruit for lunch.

Jack stopped at one point and looked down at the ground. “Oh, wow, I’m high up.”

“That didn’t sound great,” I called up to him. “It wasn’t an ‘Oh wow, I’m high up! How cool.’ It was more of an ‘Oh my gosh, what have I done?’ sort of statement.”

“Good, then my intonation was exactly as I intended. And I just remembered a very important lesson I learned after my tree climbing bonanza at the park.”

“What was that?”

He peered down at me, and I couldn’t help but notice how handsome he looked. “It’s much easier to climb up a tree than to climb down.”

“That doesn’t sound reassuring.”

“It wasn’t meant to sound reassuring. But I will carry on for the good of the village.”

“Pretty small village at this point, but this one villager is already dreaming about pan-fried breadfruit.”

Jack moved to the next branch. He was making more careful and strategic choices now because the consequences of a misstep were much greater. I lost sight of him for a second and then his hand appeared through some leaves near the first breadfruit. With some effort and twisting, he wriggled it free.

I hurried underneath the tree. “Go ahead and toss it down. I’ll try to catch it or at least slow its descent.” The breadfruit fell from the tree, bounced off my hands and rolled across the soft, loamy ground. I picked it up and moved it aside to wait for the second breadfruit.

A sudden jolting movement was followed by a branch snapping in two. Jack’s foot dangled. My heart was racing. “Everything all right?” I asked, warily.

“Just pushed too hard on a weak branch.” He broke free the next breadfruit and dropped it down to me. This time I caught it. I picked up both fruits and moved out from under the tree to watch Jack’s descent.

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