Cover Of Night

The thick end of the paramecium slanted downward, which was good for two reasons: it provided cover, and the sharp slant down to the river wasn’t as high. On the highest side, the bluff was sheer and a good seventy feet, but here at the eastern end it decreased to a mere forty feet, at a lesser angle, which meant they were able to get down without rappelling. Cal used a short-handled trenching tool to cut footholds in the dirt, and they both went down in a mostly upright position.

That close to the river the roar of the water had made conversation impossible unless they shouted, so she’d concentrated on not falling as they negotiated over jagged boulders. There was no riverbank, not in the sense that people usually thought. At the water’s edge were rocks, period: big ones, little ones, rounded ones, and sharp ones. Some were solidly placed, some rolled underfoot. Some were slippery. Some were slippery and rolled, and they were the most treacherous. She’d had to make certain she had a secure grip with at least one hand before placing her weight on any rock. The pace was necessarily slow, so slow that she had begun to worry they wouldn’t be able to get to more hospitable ground before dark, but they’d made it to the base of the mountain just in time. Cal had found a protected slope and that was where they’d stopped.

There was no semblance of camping. It was just the two of them, sitting on the ground in the dark, eating muesli from a plastic bag and drinking a little water. Then he’d unrolled the pad and lay down to sleep, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

At midnight she said. "Cal." and just like that, he was awake, without her having to shake him or repeat his name. He sat up and stretched, yawning.

"How did you do that?" she asked, pitching her voice low because sound carried at night.

"Do what?"

"Wake up that fast."

"Practice, I guess."

She gave him his watch, and he strapped it back on his wrist while she stretched out on the pad. She had wondered if it would be as comfortable as it looked. It wasn’t. It was a thin pad on the rough ground, and she could feel every root and rock; still, it was better than sleeping on the ground, because it kept the chill away.

She spread her blanket over her as he took a drink of water and sat down where she’d been sitting. She tried to doze off, if not immediately as he’d done, at least within five or ten minutes. Fifteen minutes later she was still fidgeting.

"If you’re not still, you won’t ever get to sleep," he said, sounding amused.

"I’m not a good camper; I don’t like sleeping on the ground."

"In different circumstances – " He stopped.

She waited for him to say something else, but he seemed inclined to let drop whatever he had been about to say, rather than rephrasing it. "In different circumstances – what?" she prodded.

More silence, broken only by a slight breeze soughing through the trees. He was just an indistinct shape in the darkness, but she could tell he’d raised his head, listening for something. He must not have heard anything alarming, because his body posture soon relaxed. His words came softly. "You could sleep on me."

The rush of blood through her body made her feel lightheaded. Yes. Yes, that was what she wanted, what she craved. She heard herself saying, just as softly, "Or vice versa."

He inhaled raggedly, and she smiled in the darkness. It was good to know she could do to him what he’d just done to her.

He shifted his legs, as if he was uncomfortable. Finally he muttered something, stood, and made some adjustments before cautiously sitting again. Cate smothered a giggle. "I’m sorry," she made herself say, though she wasn’t at all sorry.

"I doubt it." His tone was wry. "You should have one of these for a little while, just to see how inconvenient they can be."

"If I had one, you wouldn’t be uncomfortable."

"I said for a little while. I definitely wouldn’t want you to have one permanently."

"I don’t need to have one at all." A tiny devil prodded her to add, "Because you’ll let me use yours, won’t you?"

Another sucked-in breath, and some rough breathing. He said, "Damn it," and stood again.

This time she couldn’t hold back a tiny hiccup of a laugh.

"Tucker sounds just like that sometimes," he said. "They don’t look like you very much, but sometimes the way they’ll say things, or hold their heads – that’s when I see you in them."

Just like that her heart squeezed. She hadn’t seen her babies since Friday morning, and it was now Sunday night. They were okay, though; that was the main thing. They were safe. And Cal was the only person who had ever said they reminded him of her. If he wanted to change the subject by talking about her boys, she was willing.

"I have a confession to make," he muttered.

"About what?"

He cleared his throat. "I’m the one – uh – I said some things I shouldn’t have in front of them."

Cate sat up on the pad, glad he couldn’t see her face. "Such as… damn idgit?" she asked suspiciously.

"I hit my thumb with the hammer," he said, sounding incredibly sheepish. "I – uh – said a whole alphabet soup of things."

"Such as?" she asked again, somehow managing to keep her tone stern.

"Well, I – Cate, I was a Marine, if that gives you any idea."

"Exactly what should I be prepared to hear my children saying?"

He gave in, his shoulders slumping. "Do you want the words, or just the initials?"

Uh-oh. If she could recognize what he’d said by the initials, she knew it was bad. "The initials will do."

"It started with g.d."

"And then what?"