Page 104 of Bountiful
“Look at you beingthedad!”
“I have paleskin,too.”
“Castros don’t burn,” my friendpointedout.
In three more weeks, neither would I. There was no sunshine in the hockey rink.Three weeks. That was all the time we had left before training camp.Inconceivable.
Carrying Nicole on my back was an unfamiliar experience. I could feel the warmth of her body where it rested against mine. And, as I walked, a little hand explored my hairline. I reached back and caught one of her stubby feet in my hand, and shegiggled.
She babbled as we walked upriver, following thegrassybank.
“Hey, cool rock. How deep do you think it is here?” Castro asked, pointing at a giant boulder in the middle of thestream.
“Noidea,man.”
“Hang on a second, then.” Castro kicked off his hiking shoes and socks. He turned up the cuffs on hisshorts.
“Showing me someleg?Sexy.”
He gave me thefinger.
“Don’t curse in front of thechild.”
He made another rude gesture, and Ilaughed.
Wading out into the river, he began to laugh, too. “It is so freaking cold.” But he made it to the big rock in the middle without much trouble. “There are tiny fish nibblingmytoes.”
“They don’t know any better. Do you want me to take your picture on that rock? That will impress the ladies. Or at least yoursisters.”
“Goodidea.”
I took out my phone to take his picture, but Nicole started to fuss. I took a couple of shots, put the phone away, and then reached back for her toe, which was kicking madly. “Everything okay backthere?”
“She wants to go wading, too.” Castro picked his way backtowardme.
“Zara said to stay away from theriver.”
“She said not to let the babywalkinto the river. But it’s mean if we don’t let her get her feet wet. I won’t setherdown.”
I took the pack off, and the baby wriggled to get out. “Go ahead,” I said, lifting her out of the pack and onto the grass. “But if this goes badly, tell mommy it was hisfault.”
“Come here, little cutie,” Castro said. She ran to him. He lifted her up over the water, then swung her gently, allowing her toes to dip into the shallowwater.
She hooted withlaughter.
“Whee!” Castro did it again and again. Nicole laughed until her face was red, and her whole body was shaking. When he stopped, she fussed. So he obliged, dipping her toes into the cool water a dozen moretimes.
Then, for no discernible reason at all, she began to cry. Tears streaked down hercheeks.
“It’s okay,” Castro said, tucking her onto his hip and wading toward the shore. “I’ve got you.” He tried that thing where you jiggle the baby gently againstyourbody.
But she howled. Her face turned red. She opened her mouth wider andscreamed.
“You broke her. Let me.” I took her back from him, trying to decide what to do. Last time I calmed her down in a hammock. But there wasn’t one here. Maybe some more walking inthepack?
“She’s probably just tired,” Castro said. “Didn’t Zara say she didn’t getanap?”
“Guess so.” I set her into the pack with the predictable result—more yelling. I felt like a dickhead strapping her in as she screamed. But I didn’t know what else to try. So I picked up the pack and set off up the path. Castro ran to join me, hustling to fallinstep.
