"Okay! Fine!"

Amy lay back on the sand. "I didn't think I would like you, that first night, in the hotel."

"Well, I didn't think I'd like you, either."

"Because I'm fat?"

"No. Because of your Jamba Juice T-shirt. Jamba Juice sucks."

"It was because I'm fat. That's okay. A lot of people do it. I'm used to it. Sometimes I think I should just walk into the river at night while everyone's sleeping."

"Oh, how goth."

Amy sat up and glared at him, and he sensed he'd gone too far. But then, to his surprise, she burst out laughing. Peter felt like he had either just gotten away with something hugely significant or said something brilliant. He didn't want to know which; he wanted to leave it at that, with a laugh the two of them could share, even if it might be for very different reasons.

In any case, he was most thankful to see Susan walking toward them, carrying two plates of something fruity and crumbly.

"She doesn't know, by the way," said Amy under her breath. "Hi, Mom," she said brightly.

"I thought you'd want dessert," Susan said, handing them the plates. Peter took his gratefully. The cherry filling was thick and gluey and probably came straight out of a can but tasted so, so fine, down here on the river. And when Susan told them that Ruth might have to be evacuated because of her leg, it barely registered, because between three margaritas and a plateful of cherry cobbler and whatever he'd eaten in between, Peter wasn't feeling so very great himself.

Late that night, while others slept, Evelyn headed upriver in the dark to find a good place to pee. Most people at night simply waded into the shallow water by the boats, but Evelyn felt too self-conscious with the guides so close by. And she wasn't going to punish herself over this anymore, either. She was who she was, and so what if she needed her privacy?

She didn't want to go too far upriver, though, because she didn't want to intrude upon the hikers' camping s.p.a.ce. What a bunch of women! Stripping down like that! Once she and Julian had gone skinny-dipping in the ocean up in Maine. The moon was out, and Julian's little white rump bobbed in the surf. They were both afraid of getting caught, but it was early in their relationship, when they felt emboldened by love to commit risque acts. The dark water pounded and tossed her around, but when she came up sputtering, Julian was right there.

Eventually, Evelyn reached a small cl.u.s.ter of rounded rocks, full of little pools and inlets. She was about to squat when she heard a woman sigh. Evelyn glanced up. Just beyond the rocks, away from the water's edge, a form shifted on the sand. Two forms, actually, and Evelyn quickly looked away, but not before she saw the woman stretch her arms out to the sides, like a snow angel, as the man moved on top.

Evelyn felt her stomach flutter. She didn't think they had heard her, but all the same, she had witnessed them. Which was all that mattered here, because it seeded in her a yearning she thought she had disposed of when she dropped the necklace off Navajo Bridge. She flashed back to that night in Maine. She and Julian had been too scared to make love on the beach that night. But down here ...

For the rest of the trip, Evelyn kept imagining what it would be like, lying naked on the warm sand, with the sound of the river and a slight breeze and Julian between her legs, whispering terrible, lovely things in her ear.

DAY SEVEN.

River Miles 93108 Granite to Lower Ba.s.s

28.

Day Seven, Morning Mile 93 During breakfast the next morning, JT told everyone to look for Ruth's pillbox, impressing on them the gravity of the situation. Ruth was no practicing Catholic, but she found herself saying a prayer to St. Anthony, patron saint of lost things. She ate quickly and went back and ransacked their tent. She turned their sleeping bags inside out. She pawed through the plastic bag of dirty clothes. She searched through the pockets of all their pants and shorts. Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away. She was not, she was not not going to let JT evacuate them. going to let JT evacuate them.

But her search was to no avail, and soon she heard JT calling her. Reluctantly she climbed out of the tent and followed him to a clear s.p.a.ce in the sand.

"Sure looks like flesh-eating strep to me," she declared when he unwrapped the gauze. "In which case it won't matter if you evacuate us because I'll be dead by tonight. Might as well die down here where it's beautiful." She cringed at her sarcasm. She was acting like a sulky teenager. But she couldn't help it.

"Lloyd will jump out of the helicopter if you try to evacuate us," she informed him.

JT sat back. "Look, Ruth. I know it's your job to think about Lloyd. But it's my job to think about you and Lloyd and everyone else. I've got a trip to run. I'm liable for your health and safety."

"I'll sign a release."

"Ruth. I could lose my license over this. And do you really want to risk having your leg amputated? Who will take care of Lloyd if you're stuck in a wheelchair?"

It seemed to Ruth that she had reached the very depths of despair, hearing this. She was d.a.m.ned if she stayed and d.a.m.ned if she went. But JT was right. As a responsible adult, she should be thinking of the long-term consequences of her actions.

"I don't know how I'll tell Lloyd," she said.

"If you want, I'll tell him," JT said. "I'll tell him I called my boss, and it's out of our control."

"We'll miss Crystal and Lava," Ruth said.

JT squeezed warm water over her leg. "You get your leg healed up, and we'll find you s.p.a.ce on another trip this summer."

He'd gone too far, here; he'd lost his credibility, for they both knew another trip would never happen. But before she could call him on this-and make him feel twice as bad-they looked up to see Susan hurrying toward them.

"It was under a towel in JT's boat," she said breathlessly, showing them the pillbox. "I got as many pills as I could find, but the rest were half dissolved. I don't know what's what." She handed it to Ruth. It had been gnawed ragged, and the pills that remained were all mixed up in the various compartments. Ruth dumped everything into the palm of her hand. Greedily she poked through them, separating out four of the oval tablets.

"How many were there supposed to be?" JT asked her.

"Ten."

"Go back and look some more," JT ordered Susan. "Give me the pillbox. G.o.d d.a.m.n it," and he held the pillbox in front of the dog's nose. The dog panted and wagged his tail.

"You bad dog," JT said, "you bad, bad dog," and in a moment of temper, he swatted the dog's nose with the pillbox. Blender yelped and slunk away.

"G.o.d d.a.m.n it," said JT. He felt as close to wanting to punch something as he'd felt in a long, long time.

Meanwhile, Ruth had already uncapped her water bottle and taken one of the pills.

"You stop that, JT," she said, wiping her mouth. "We found the pills. Don't yell at the dog."

"Four out of ten!"

"Enough to get me started."

"You can't just take half a course," he said.

"I can when I'm on the river!" she said angrily. "Stop being such a gloomy Gus! I'm on antibiotics now! You're off the hook!"

Sam came up, holding a few more pills, including another Cipro.

"See?" said Ruth triumphantly. "Now we have five! You can't call for a helicopter when I have half the medicine I need! And who knows, we may find even more. Come," she ordered the dog, and he slunk around JT to sit at Ruth's side. He nuzzled her face and licked her neck.

"He was just doing what a dog does," she told JT. "Now say you're sorry for smacking him. Come on," she said. "Say you're sorry."

"I'm not."

"Oh, but he is," she told the dog, smoothing his ears back. "He can't say it out loud, but he is."

Without replying, JT set about re-dressing Ruth's wound, using the new bandage they'd gotten from the hikers. Ruth felt chastened by his silence. She wished he would say something. Was he still thinking of evacuation?

It seemed not, because when he was finished wrapping her leg, he stood up and brushed the sand off his knees. "Let's get this show on the road," he shouted to the group. "I want everyone ready to leave in ten minutes sharp! Pack it up!"

He turned and offered her a hand. She pulled herself up and watched as he repacked the medical kit.

"So ...," she began.

JT latched the kit. "No helicopter," he said flatly. "Not this morning, anyway."

"Thank you," Ruth said meekly. JT shrugged and walked off. Ruth looked down at her leg.

Heal, you old coot.

29.

Day Seven Mile 93 It's not about the rapids, JT always emphasized to his pa.s.sengers. It's about the side canyons. Its about sleeping beneath the stars. Its about layers of rock, and quiet currents, and jungles growing out of hot red rock.

But try convincing twelve people not to get too excited about running the biggest white water on the continent. Try telling a parent it doesn't matter how much experience a particular guide has. There's no getting around it: ninety-three miles downriver from Lee's Ferry, it's about the Big Ones.

That morning it was clear that most everyone already had a certain seat in mind. Mark wanted to paddle-in fact, he felt ent.i.tled to paddle, having spent so much time pumping water instead of, say, drinking gin and tonics. Mitch.e.l.l felt ent.i.tled too, not just because he knew more than everyone, but because he was sure his brawn would be needed for whatever split-second commands Abo might fire at them. Jill wanted to paddle, but she wanted the boys to ride with JT because she was sure he was the more competent oarsman; which raised the question of whether she should be in the same boat as her children, for perhaps she could somehow prevent them from falling overboard, should it come to that. And Peter was torn between wanting Dixie to see just how skilled a paddler he was in the Big Ones, and being available to rescue her should she happen to fly overboard.

After settling things with Ruth and her leg, after sending everyone off to pack things up p.r.o.nto p.r.o.nto, JT drank the last of the muddy coffee and broke down the kitchen. Then he gathered everyone back together and spread out his map on the sand. The hikers had already left, and Abo and Dixie worked in their boats, lashing gear with somber looks. JT found a stick and squatted.

"First one coming up is Granite Rapid," he told them. "Its got a good strong lateral that well try to side-surf toward the right, just enough to avoid the hole at the bottom. What we don't want is to hit the cliff over there, but if we do, keep your hands in the boat. I don't want any broken bones."

"Can I stand up in this one?" Sam asked.

JT squinted at the boy. "If you even try try to stand up, I will put you on groover duty for the rest of the trip." to stand up, I will put you on groover duty for the rest of the trip."

Sam smiled sheepishly, but with pride, for once again he had gotten noticed, and Matthew hadn't. JT turned his attention back to the map.

"Now: right after Granite comes Hermit, one of my favorites, with some very nice roller-coaster action." He did not tell them that he personally was planning to cheat this one and run it to the right to avoid the wave train. This was not the trip to play around with that fifth wave, not with Ruth and Lloyd in his boat. Abo and Dixie, they could decide for themselves.

"Next up is Boucher," he went on, "not too big, just a read-and-run. And then it's Crystal. That's right," he said, holding up his hand to forestall an eruption of chatter, "the one you've all been waiting for. We'll scout from the right, although I don't expect much has changed since three weeks ago. Big thing is to avoid the Hole and hang on tight."

A low murmur of excitement stirred through the group. A Monster, some of them had read. King Kong. The Maelstrom. Its nicknames were well earned. Crystal was one of the two biggest rapids on the river, a hydraulic traffic jam that could make even the most seasoned guide quake with fear.

"There's a lot of hype with this one, and it's well deserved," JT told them. "But more often than not, we manage a nice smooth run down the right, and it's over before you can blink. Ruth and Lloyd, I want you in my boat. Abo? Did you figure out who's paddling?"

Abo sprang from his boat onto the sand. "Yes, I did, Boss," he declared, wiping his hands on his shorts. "I want Peter and Mitch.e.l.l up front. Susan and Jill, you're about the same weight, you take the middle. Mark, I want you in the rear. That leaves one s.p.a.ce. Who wants it?"

As it turned out, a lot of people wanted the s.p.a.ce, so Abo had them draw straws-or rather, strips torn from an empty cereal box. In the end, it was between Sam and Evelyn. Abo fanned the two strips. Sam wiggled his fingers, then drew. Then Evelyn drew, and they compared.

"Whoo-hoo!" Sam shouted.

(Have I not taught my children any sense of grace? Jill wondered.) Evelyn made a valiant effort to disguise her disappointment. "Fair and square," she said brightly. Then she sat down and took her sandals off and focused intently on a complicated strap adjustment.

"I tried really hard to picture the strips next to each other," Sam told Jill as he buckled his life jacket. "I closed my eyes and looked into my brain really hard, and there they were, lined up right beside each other. I think I have ESP. Do you believe in ESP?"

"Jill?" said Mark. "Can we have a word?"

Frowning, Jill followed her husband away from the group. As he spelled out his concerns, she simply listened. She thought she knew her husband well, but as she heard his proposition, she was taken aback.

"So we're in agreement on this?" Mark said. "Trust me," he said before she could reply. "It's the right thing to do. Trust me and we'll talk about it later."

"But it's-"

"Just trust me, Jill," he said, and he walked back to the group. Jill followed, seething, and she wanted to say something more to him, but Mark had already put his arm around Sam's shoulder.

"Sam," he began, "we want you to rethink this."

Sam eyed them both warily.

"See, Evelyn's been waiting a long time for this trip."

"So?"

"And she's older."

"But I won."

Now Mark placed both hands on Sam's shoulders. "Sam, I want you to put this into context," he said. "You're twelve. You're going to have other chances to come down the river. But Evelyn's fifty. This may be her only shot."

"You said fifty wasn't old."

Mark scratched his neck.

"So she might have another chance," said Sam. "And I I won," he reminded his father. won," he reminded his father.

Mark straightened up. "Just because you won doesn't mean you have to claim the prize. Right, Jill?"

Jill felt herself seething inside. In a way she knew Mark was right, but in a larger way she thought that Sam had just as much right to the spot; and this feeling of hers had less to do with age and chance and more to do with simple filial loyalty, something Mark, she now saw, obviously found morally wrong.

She repositioned the boy's baseball cap. "Well, Dad's got a point," she said, "but it's up to you. If you really want the spot, you can have it."