Page 2 of The River in Spring
So I climb, like an ape in the jungles of Africa who just picked up the scent of the female in a tree. Hand to limb, legs wrapped around branches, I rise. It’s not quite as easy as it was back in the day, but I’m getting the job done. This one’s a little out of my reach but I think I can grab on if I can stretch far enough. Shit! Ripped the shirt. So what? Keep going. I aim for a strong branch that angles to the right. There’s a good view from there.
But when I swing my leg over and take a seat, it’s blocked by the foliage of another branch. It’s not quite as thick as the one I’m sitting on now, but it looks strong enough. Think so. Shit! She’s walking into deeper water. Seventy-five percent of her rocking body is on display, and nothing of the face. Need to get on the other limb. Very carefully, I move from one to the other, making sure to keep quiet as I do. This is an undercover job worthy of the sneakiest fictional detective. Sometimes you have to bend the rules to uncover the truth. It is a job for The Invisible Man.
I make it across, one rough limb to another, just as she enters the river. Now I see it all. Wow. For a mountain girl she’s very feminine in her movements. She relaxes into deeper water. Perfectly muscled arms and graceful fingers take easy strokes. As she turns over to float I see all of her. Great face. All American natural beauty. She’s young and sexy and I’m a pervert sitting in a tree.
There’s an expression of contentment on her face that can’t be faked. Even from here it’s obvious. If I can just edge out a little further, I would have an unobstructed view. No matter how far she swims. Inch by inch, leaf by leaf, it takes a full minute to get in place. Ah. That’s perfect. I’m a genius.
The sharp cracking sound of the branch, about to give way, is the unmistakable clue. I freeze, hoping stillness will save the day. It doesn’t. The branch and I fall in one unit, as if I’m part of the tree.
The fifteen foot drop is cushioned by the incline. But on the way down my body connects with every lower branch and outgrowth. And for some stupid reason it feels like everything is happening in slow motion. Face, ribs, shoulder, ass. No body part is left untouched, and I feel the jabs and stab of the sharp edges.
Slamming into the earth is harder than I remember from my football days in high school. It comes at me in real time now, and the sound of man versus hill gives me away. Slowed by the impact and soft mud, I slowly slide headfirst to the shore. Peripherally, I see movement in the water.
“What the hell?” she yells over the river’s voice.
It’s not fear I hear, but anger. Don’t blame her. Shit, am I in one piece?
“Sorry. I’m really so sorry,” I call from face-plant position.
I’m too embarrassed to raise my head and look at the girl. Close ups of stones in mud are a better choice. Maybe if I just lay here contemplating the pebble poking against my nose it will all be a dream. I try becoming invisible. It’s not working.
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay down till I’m out of the water. I’ve got a rifle and I’m not afraid to use it on a guy who gets his jollies hiding in a tree looking at naked women.”
It’s a command. The sound of water splashing as she moves quickly to the shore gives me a few seconds to form a story. Let’s see. What can I say? The binoculars lay a few feet away. There’s just one shot at selling the lie. I come up on my elbows but stare straight ahead.
“I’m a bird-watcher. Thought I could get a better look at the Yellow-Tailed Warbler I caught sight of. It was a rare sighting this far North.”
That sounds feasible, right? I point to the binoculars, but as soon as the words leave my mouth I’m acutely aware of how pathetic they sound. Like I made up a bird name. Which I did. God, I’m screwed.
She calls from the tent. “For a bad liar and a deviant, you don’t look like a pervert.”
“All men are perverts,” I admit.
Footsteps on the shore.
Her unexpected laughter fills the space and echoes off the canyon. I turn my head to see Mountain Girl with a hand covering her mouth. Jean shorts and a boxy checkered shirt cover all the good parts. She closes the top button.
“Yellow-Tailed Warbler. Good try.”
When we lock eyes it’s impossible to ignore the humor in the situation. Laughter rises in me. It’s pretty funny. And I’m one lucky guy. She’s taking the whole thing really well. There’s not one mention of arrest.
“Come on. Admit it. There was no bird. You were sneaking a peek and you fell out of the tree. I’ll go easy on you if you just tell the truth.”
There’s a smile on that sweet face, not an accusatory frown. Interesting.Your honor, I’d like to enter into evidence the plaintiff’s expression.
“Okay,” I say, relaxing for the first time. “I was taking a walk, and I saw you. Can you really blame a man?”
There’s no reason to tell her it’s my property. Instead, I give my best forgive me smile. She’s not charmed.
“Yes I can. And I do.” The expression and tone have suddenly turned serious. The laughter has stopped.
“Oh. I’m really sorry. I mean, I‘ll get out of your way.”
I regroup and attempt to stand, but my fucking ankle is shooting lightning bolts.
“Not so fast, Mr. Peepers. I’m going to need your name.”
The reality of the situation settles. Oh shit. I’m screwed. I’d run if it was a possibility. Just hightail it along the river and double back to my place. But she’s got me.Fuck!
