Day Ten Miles 150157 And so the next day, Peter and Amy set about taking lots and lots of pictures-of everyone, but especially of Mitch.e.l.l. It was, as Amy maintained, all innocent stuff. Mitch.e.l.l stirring up the grounds in the coffee. Mitch.e.l.l with his hand up his shorts, adjusting things. Peter took a close-up of Mitch.e.l.ls well-marked guidebook. Amy caught him as he slipped while getting into the paddle boat, and then she took another shot of him sitting straight-backed in front, ready to go when everyone else was still getting settled.

She would look at that picture next winter and hear his voice clear as day, wondering out loud what was taking everyone so long.

For his part, JT counted his blessings when they managed to get the boats loaded without anyone falling down the steep slope of Upset Hotel. There were basically two big days left, Havasu Creek today and Lava Falls tomorrow, and if he could get through them with no mishap, he might not look back on this trip as a giant migraine.

Jill would always look back on Havasu as The Day Sam Jumped Off a Cliff and Saved Her Marriage.

Everything she'd heard about Havasu Creek was true. Turquoise waters and tropical flowers spilling out of glistening rocks-it was, as Mitch.e.l.l had promised, a paradise, and as she made her way through thickets of wild grape, as she waded across the stream under the shade of giant cottonwoods, she felt like she'd stepped into the ancient botanical gardens of a long-gone culture.

"You want me to wait?" Mark asked politely, once she started to fall behind, and just as politely, she told him to go on ahead. The last thing she wanted was Mark lingering, keeping her company just so he wouldn't look like a s.h.i.thead for abandoning her.

She was, admittedly, still angry with him. They'd said as little as possible to one another after their fight above Granite; and her lingering grumpiness now had as much to do with the fact that everyone had witnessed her outburst as with the substance of the fight itself. Everything was so public, down here on the river!

In any case, she ended up hiking by herself that afternoon, a quarter of a mile or so behind everyone else. Eventually she caught up with them at Beaver Falls, where the creek opened up to a series of broad waterfalls, each cascading into a succession of deep green pools. A jungle of vines drooped over the banks, and the air smelled of cloves and oranges.

"You feeling okay?" JT asked. "Drinking enough?"

She liked the way he was always checking on them. She felt taken care of, watched over; she felt safe.

"You're such a parent," she told him.

"Well," he said, allowing his half smile, "I guess I try."

She'd planned on swimming but suddenly found herself chilled. Out in one of the green pools, Mark and the boys ducked and swam and splashed one another. Jill watched them without envy; they were doing what a father and his two sons ought to be doing on a trip like this. It was good for them to horse around. She found herself thinking back on all their family squabbles, the stupid everyday things-which kind of pizza, how many videos, who called shotgun, where all the money went, why did you wait until the night before the a.s.signment was due?-and it all seemed ludicrous now. How could any of it matter?

And as for their fight over Sam yielding his seat to Evelyn: What was wrong with a father trying to instill a sense of grace and generosity in his son?

But she was still mad. What an odd, fickle day, she thought.

When it was time to head back, JT led them along an alternate route, one that followed the narrows of the creek itself, which meant wading up to their hips and clutching the underside of great overhanging boulders to guide themselves along. Once through the narrows, they all scrambled up onto a small ledge to dry out and congratulate one another on their maneuverings.

"Hey, Mitch.e.l.l," said Peter. And he took a picture of Mitch.e.l.l hoisting himself up from below, grimacing with effort.

Jill squeezed into a sliver of sunshine to warm up. Mark came up close.

"How come you didn't swim?" he asked.

"I was cold."

"The water was warm."

"Not warm enough for me," she said meanly.

Mark rubbed her arms briskly, and she tolerated it. But in truth she wanted to go back to the boats. All this luxurious greenery was overwhelming her. She wanted rocks, river, sky. And some of Susan's wine, frankly.

"Where's JT going?" Mark asked.

Dixie chuckled. "Up to his ledge."

Jill looked up to see JT squeezing through a narrow slot. Then he vanished.

"What ledge?" she asked, for she saw no ledge from which anyone could jump.

Dixie pointed.

The reason Jill wasn't seeing any ledge was because she was looking only halfway up the cliff. She looked further, and then, squinting from the sun, she saw JT's silhouette appear on a tiny lip of rock far above them. Jill was lousy at estimating distances, but she would have guessed this to be a hundred feet up.

"He's going to jump?" jump?"

"Every trip, rain or shine," Dixie said. "He calls it Continuing Education."

Matthew, cold by now, came up and huddled against her. She put her arms around him. She hadn't held him close in a long time and now noticed that his bones were lumpy and k.n.o.bby at the joints. She wondered if this was normal for a teenage boy.

She kissed his head. "Where's Sam?"

But before Matthew could respond, Peter gave a low whistle. "Wow," he said. "Way to go, Sam," and Jill and Mark both looked up to see their second-born son poised on the lip of JT's ledge.

Jill's legs went wobbly, and at the same time she had the sensation of biting on metal. Her eyes dropped to the pool below. Maybe a hundred feet was an exaggeration, but still: the pool was small. There was no room for error.

"Yikes," said Susan, joining her.

"Is Sam actually going to jump?" inquired Evelyn.

"Lucky Sam," said Amy. "I'd jump too, if I weren't so fat."

"Oh, honey!"

"Shut up, Mom," said Amy.

"Whoa that's high," said Mitch.e.l.l. that's high," said Mitch.e.l.l.

Jill wished they would keep their comments to themselves, because she knew what they were hinting at. Are you actually going to let him jump? Are you actually going to let him jump? Which infuriated her. Whose business was it anyway if Sam jumped? Which infuriated her. Whose business was it anyway if Sam jumped?

"What do you think?" Mark asked in a low voice.

It shocked her that he wasn't automatically vetoing the idea. Mr. Safe. Mr. Cautious. Mr. Always Wear a Helmet. She looked up again. In the dappled sunlight JT was standing right behind Sam. He'd placed his hands on Sam's shoulders, and now he bent down so that his face was level with Sam's as he pointed to landmarks below.

"Hey, Sam!" Mark shouted, and when he had the boy's attention, he held out his hands in a questioning gesture. Sam made a small indeterminable movement in response. Yes, I'm going to jump. No, you can't stop me Yes, I'm going to jump. No, you can't stop me.

And Jill recalled a time long ago, senior year in high school it must have been, upstate New York, a sunny afternoon at a gorge. She watched her friends jump, one by one. And when she finally jumped, she felt her limbs go loose. She saw the blurred stone cliffs, bodies sunbathing on the ledges below, the sparkle of sunlight filtering through fat green leaves; and then she felt the hard, cold smack of the water. Her legs stung, and she swallowed a lot of water, and after she hauled herself up onto the warm rocks, she discovered a large plum-colored bruise on her thigh. But the thrill was palpable and lasted long into the night-the thrill of a reasonable, sensible girl living dangerously for one short moment on a warm spring afternoon.

Still: she'd been eighteen. Sam was twelve. And JT should have checked with them first. She felt that wobbly feeling again. If they had any chance to stop Sam, they would have to decide quickly.

"What do you you think?" she asked Mark. She felt shy doing this, as though it were their first major decision together. Their house, their friends, their whole life in Salt Lake City seemed very, very far away. think?" she asked Mark. She felt shy doing this, as though it were their first major decision together. Their house, their friends, their whole life in Salt Lake City seemed very, very far away.

"It's just that there isn't a lot of room for miscalculation," Mark said. "Dixie? Is this safe?"

Dixie had no qualms. "JT wouldn't take just anyone up there," she told Jill and Mark. "He's been watching Sam the whole trip. Sam's a coordinated kid. He'll be fine. And JT's done it a million times. He knows this spot like the back of his hand." She paused to wave at Sam. "Of course, it's up to you and Mark. But I'd trust JT."

That was the thing, Jill thought. You had to trust the guides. You had to trust them when they told you not not to do something; but you also had to trust them when they gave you the go-ahead-not just because it was safe in their eyes, but because they knew you'd be better off for having done it. to do something; but you also had to trust them when they gave you the go-ahead-not just because it was safe in their eyes, but because they knew you'd be better off for having done it.

"I think it's okay, then," said Mark.

"I think it's okay too," she said. And she found his hand and squeezed it.

Everybody was looking up now. JT had stepped back, and Sam stood poised at the edge of the lip. Jill waved to him. He wrung his hands at his side. She thought of changing her mind. Then Sam took a small step back and leapt straight out.

A collective gasp rose from the group.

Sam flailed in the air before hitting the water dead smack in the middle of the pool. The impact sealed in upon itself. The surface foamed; ripples rolled swiftly to the edges of the basin and then back in upon themselves. And then, five feet from the bull's-eye, the water broke and Sam's head popped up, his eyes wide with shock as he sculled about in a moment of disorientation before spotting the group on the nearby ledge. He swam toward them, and Dixie leaned over and extended an arm.

"Come on up quick, so JT can jump!" and she hoisted the boy up onto the ledge. His teeth chattered as he huddled against Dixie, and Jill had the good sense not to put her arms around him at this time. They all craned their necks again, and there went JT, falling in a half-seated position, hitting the water thuddishly in the exact same spot as Sam. Within seconds his head emerged and he gave it a shake, and with three strong b.r.e.a.s.t.strokes he swam to the edge of the rock, where both Dixie and Sam extended their arms.

"So what'd you think, kiddo?" said JT, water dripping from his baggy shorts. It was clear he viewed Sam as a member of an exclusive club now.

"It was pretty cool," said Sam nonchalantly. "Didn't you want to go, Matthew?"

"No," said Matthew. "I don't like heights." And Jill was flabbergasted at this level of maturity in her son, that he wouldn't try to go just because his younger brother had gone.

"Grab your water bottles, gang," JT called out. "Fun's over. Keep up the pace. We still have some river miles to make when we get back."

"Were you scared?" Mark asked Sam as they headed down the trail.

"Nope."

"What was JT saying up there?"

"He was telling me to hold on to the family jewels," Sam said, with dignity and pride.

Jill had to think a moment, to figure out the meaning.

"And did you?" Mark asked Sam, man to man.

"Yup."

"Good," said Mark, tousling the boy's head.

Up ahead, Susan, Evelyn, and Mitch.e.l.l stayed close together. Jill sensed they were talking about her and Mark and their decision to let Sam jump. She could understand Evelyn and Mitch.e.l.l being quick to condemn, but she was a little mystified by Susan. After all that wine they'd drunk together, she thought they were in agreement on most issues. She felt a little betrayed, like she did whenever Mark voted Republican.

The h.e.l.l with them, she thought. They don't know Sam like we do.

"Were we crazy?" she asked Mark as they ducked through the leafy thicket of wild grape.

"Nah," said Mark. "Sam was great."

Jill smiled. "He was, wasn't he?"

"It meant a lot to him. If we made him come down, think how humiliated he'd have been. You can't do that to your kid. Not on the river. Not at age twelve."

"You can if it's a mile high."

"But it wasn't."

"No, it wasn't. I really went by what Dixie said," said Jill, feeling a weight suddenly lifting. "I figured if JT thought it was safe, then it was safe. But I don't think some of the others felt that way."

"That's their problem, then," Mark declared, and it gave her a thrill to hear him say that. If they'd not been in such a rush to get back, if they'd not been in such a heavily used area, Jill would have grabbed her husband's hand and dragged him off behind a tree for the quickest f.u.c.k in the history of their marriage.

As it was, she had to wait until after dinner that evening, when JT got out his book of poetry and read to them all, and Jill and Mark were able to slip away unnoticed. Years later she would still be able to recall kneeling in the sand, Mark's fingers fluttering on her skin, the tacky warmth of his neck, the black river moving soundlessly in the night as they lay down together.

36.

Day Ten Mile 157 In Susan's view, it was the remoteness of their location that made Jill and Mark's decision so imprudent. What if the boy had cracked his head open? It wasn't like they were at a city park, with a hospital just down the road.

"I personally don't think even JT should have jumped," Evelyn confided as they headed down the trail. "He's our Trip Leader. What if he got hurt? Where would we be then?"

"Up s.h.i.t creek," Mitch.e.l.l declared. "He could have jeopardized the trip for everyone. Gotta remember, we're paying two hundred fifty bucks a day. That's a lot of money to waste just waiting around for a helicopter."

"Maybe Jill and Mark weren't thinking clearly," said Susan. "They haven't been speaking much. Maybe neither one of them wanted to call the shot."

"But it's the first thing you learn in wilderness school," Evelyn said indignantly. "You don't take unnecessary risks. And how was JT so sure that things hadn't changed since the last jump? What if there was a boulder he didn't know about? What if Sam was off by a couple of inches?"

Mitch.e.l.l grumbled his agreement, and he and Evelyn continued to imagine worst-case scenarios as they continued down the trail. Susan herself wondered what she would say at happy hour tonight. She really didn't feel like going off to drink wine with Jill, because she was afraid she wouldn't be able to keep her mouth shut. What kind of a mother are you, letting your son jump off a cliff, miles from nowhere? What kind of a mother are you, letting your son jump off a cliff, miles from nowhere?

For once, Susan felt like she was on the same side as the Mother b.i.t.c.h.

Peter and Amy tromped along the trail, Amy in front, Peter behind.

"I should have jumped," Peter kept saying. "Why didn't I jump?"

"Would you shut up?"

"I would have been fine. Sam did it. Sam was fine. It was my only opportunity. I'll never be back here. Hey!" he exclaimed as a branch snapped back in his face.

"Sorry."

"This is why I hate hiking," Peter said. "I'm always getting hit with branches. That and poison ivy. Is there poison ivy here, do you think?"

"I don't know."