Chapter 3

“What are you doing?” she asked as I spun the wheel and pulled the throttle back.

“Going in the opposite direction. Down stream, catch the bigger river, go UP stream. That channel I’m talking about.”

“Oh, okay.”

Headed back downstream, we made a bit better speed, hardly noticeably so, but the GPS noted the difference.

We eased down the channel, more houses appearing on the banks as we got nearer to town.

“Banks of the river used to be occupied by poor folks,” I said. “I listened to stories of my grandparents when I was little. Poor people made a living off the river. My great-great uncle was a commercial fisherman when he wasn’t running a ferry for the state. They tell about hundred and fifty pound turtles and two hundred pound garfish. Old pictures and all that. You don’t see those any more.”

“You have a sense of the history of this place,” Gee said. “Interesting.”

“It is interesting. To me, at least. But then I’m weird, you know.”

She tossed her head, bouncing that damned ponytail. “You know, Mister Bertrand, too many people think that the world came into existence with their birth. I don’t think so. You don’t think so. Refreshing, I think. Not weird. Not weird at all.”

By now, the river was reaching the expected levels of activity for a Sunday in summer. Watercraft of all manner passed us, left and right, some going upstream, some going down, boats, many towing skiers or various inflated tubes and devices with happy passengers aboard.

My forty feet and eighteen horsepower was no match, speedwise, for eighteen feet and a couple hundred grinding horses. Add to that dozens of jet-skis, weaving in and out, many of them looking for the wakes of other craft, the means to launch themselves into aerial displays.

One whizzed by us, throttle wide open, a roostertail flying in its wake, the water not quite reaching the heights that would wet us.

“Noisy little thing, ain’t it?” Gee said.

“Uh-huh,” I grunted. “It’s not as bad in the winter. And I’m always amazed at how few collisions happen out here. Especially later in the day when some of those operators have been drinking all afternoon.”

“That’s illegal...”

“Sure it is. And it’s not good sense, and a kid has to have a license to drive a car but he can drive a boat without one, and we KNOW that a teen boater’s just automatically gonna make careful and wise choices.”

“Yeah, you can depend on teenagers to make wise choices. I was eighteen. Amazing how stupid you can be with academic scholarships and a 3.9 GPA.”

“Heart wants what the heart wants,” I said, trying to be soothing.

“Why am I telling you this?”

“I dunno,” I replied. “Maybe I have the proper shoulder to cry upon.”

“Not crying,” she noted.

“How long since the divorce?”

“Six months. Just let it drag on and on ... Kinda hoped for – I dunno WHAT I hoped for.”

“Gee, don’t take this wrong, but you seem like one of those girls who’s got it together.”

“Plain ol’ Georgie,” she said.

“Again, don’t take this wrong, but you’re anything but plain.”

“Why do you keep saying ‘don’t take this wrong’? You’re giving me compliments.”

“I don’t want you thinking I’m trying to put the moves on you.”

“Oh, you’re a smooth talker, huh?” The corners of her mouth turned up in a bit of a smile.

“Yep. I get a lot of practice talking to Pickles.”

“So now you have me to talk to and apparently I needed you to listen.”

“So that’s what I do. You talk. I listen. Or we both talk. Like we’ve been doing...”

“Except when I get all morose.”

“Morose. An actual vocabulary. I like that.”

She pulled the camera up, peered through the viewfinder, scanning some of the boat traffic, then “Ahhhhhh, will you look at that!”

“What?” I said, swiveling my head looking for whatever interested her.

She was giggling. “Over there. That boat that’s nosed into the bank. I do believe I’m seeing a public display of affection. Here! Use the camera!” She pushed it over to my reach. I scanned a bit. The telephoto lens has a narrow field of view, but I found the boat. Yes, she was correct. Guy laid back against the seat of his boat, a bikini-clad girl’s head bobbing in his lap.

“My, my, my...”

She was shaking her head.

“You probably can’t see anything from a normal boat. We’re up here. We get a view those people don’t get.”

“And that THOSE people didn’t expect.”

“It happens. Not the first time, but never one quite that explicit.”

“Ever happen on Dorable?”

Damn! She’s asking ... I took a sip of ginger ale, buying a bit of time to collect my thoughts as to how to frame that answer. Truthfully, I replied “No.”

“Seriously? You could have a floating bachelor pad.”

“Just don’t. Weird, okay?”

“Not, like, GAY?”

“No!”

She smirked. “Not that there’s anything WRONG with that.” She stuck her tongue out, laughed. “So what’s weird?”

“Look, here’s the deal. Chaney and I...”

“Chaney? Your ex-girlfriend? Who names their kid ‘Chaney’?”

“Lord only knows,” I said. “Chaney and I ... we got intimate. I thought it meant something. She kept telling me that it really didn’t, but I said it meant we were serious and should be married and she said people fuck all the time and don’t get married...”

“Chaney was your first?” Gee asked.

“Well, no, but every time ... I dunno. Just seems that there’s more to it than a physical act.” I paused. “I guess that was the weirdest thing...”

“Mmm-hmmm,” she said, musing. “That IS weird.”

“Yeah.”

“Almost as weird as me being a virgin on my wedding night. And having just the one...”

“I thought that after a divorce, women went wild...”

“Propaganda,” she countered. “Just like single guys with neat little houseboats leaving a trail of used condoms up the river.”

“You win.”

She looked back at the boat we’d passed. Giggled again. “She’s standing up, fixing her bikini.”

“Stop that!”

“What?!?”

“Talking about that.”

“Just sex, Josh. They’re probably putting it into a context that works for them.”

“Maybe so. Or maybe one of ‘em’s being used and doesn’t know it.”

She sighed. “Yes, there is that angle.”

“I thought we were looking at wildlife. Biologist and all that.”

She cut those blue eyes at me. “That was VERY biological.”

“And sociological. And physiological. And...”

Giggle. “Okay, I’ll stop talking about it.” Her eyes glanced down. “So you got affected, then...”

“Male. You should know how that part reacts. And stop this...”

“I’ve never teased a boy before. Man, I mean...”

“Why’d you choose me?”

“Like you, I guess...”

“Like you, too, Gee. But...”

“Okay. I’ll be good.”

“Please do,” I said. Now I was HORNY. That’s usually relieved by a bit of masturbation, but that’s usually because it’s my boat and I am alone. Privacy. I pushed the thought out of my head, okay?

I tried. I looked at Gee, that ponytail sticking out the back of her baseball cap, sun glinting off red-tinged hair. My eyes roved down. Not big breasts, not at all, but definitely breasts, and right now those long legs of hers were propped up on the edge of the cockpit.

Her eyes flicked over. “Take a picture.”

“Wrong lens,” I said.

“I can swap ‘em. Gimme the camera. It’ll take your mind off of...”

“Dammit, Gee!”

Giggle. “Oops! I did it again, huh?” Her hand reached over and touched my arm. The sensation was electric. I jumped, getting another giggle. “Oh, gosh, Josh. I’m not poison...”

“You just might be, lady. I’m...”

Smile. “Are you REALLY?”

“That shouldn’t be a surprise. I’m sure you’ve had plenty of guys who’ve found you attractive.”

“One tends to discount advances made by unsuitable men.”

“Does one?”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“No, I’m enjoying you. Big difference.”

“Good. I enjoy YOU, too.”

We wound our way up the larger river, past the high banks on both sides, coming to a part where the channel meandered through swamps.

“You’re right. It was more than a day trip.”

“Yeah,” I said. “A couple more bends, then there are channels on the left bank. We’re going to try the second one if it’s clear. Before it gets dark, we can run up the channel in the johnboat. We’ll use the trolling motor. It’s quiet. Should get some good pictures.”

“I never imagined the changes. No idea. The trees. The swamps. This is really special.”

“I’ve stayed up here a week at a time, just fishing, exploring, taking pictures. Solitude.”

“I kind of wreck the solitude, huh?”

“We’ve had that conversation. One night...”

“Okay.” She swung the camera to capture a bittern wading near the base of a cypress in the shallows.

“You like that thing,” I said.

“It’s a nice camera. You forked over some bucks for this lens, though.”

“It’s the right tool for the job,” I said. “It’s more than a hobby for me, you know...”

“I can see that. I ... I just can’t see how you do this instead of a nine to five job.”

“Got some savings,” I said. “Some investments. Pays for this.”

“Must be nice.”

“It is,” I said.

The shadows were getting long when we turned out of the river into the channel into the swamp. The waters were sluggish, almost devoid of current, tinged the color of weak coffee from the tannins of fallen foliage. Trees blocked us from any real wind. I eased the nose of Dorable forward, dead slow. She stopped, bow against the trunk of a young cypress. I scampered down, tossed a loop of line around the trunk, then back up the ladder where I used a few bursts of engine and rudder to swing the stern parallel to the channel edge. There was no bank, only deeper and shallower waters in the swamp. Another line held the stern in place.

“And here we are.”

“You handle this thing well. You should teach me.”

“If you make a habit of this, you’ll get to learn. Let’s shut down the engine.”

The silence was deep and sudden. We weren’t entirely out of range of the noise of civilization, but we were certainly way down from the normal noise.

“I love it,” she said. “Almost like a cathedral back in those cypresses.”

“I like that image,” I said. “Let me get the johnboat into the water.”

The little aluminum boat is light. I tossed it over the side easily, and then more carefully loaded a couple of marine batteries and an electric trolling motor into the boat.

“Grab the camera bag while I get things set up,” I told Gee.

“Yessir, admiral,” she smirked.

“A proper crew would salute when the admiral gives an order.”

Giggle. “You probably don’t want to see my salute.”

“You’re an absolutely horrible crew, you know...”

“I’m the only crew you got. Treat me nice,” she said over her shoulder.

By the time she returned, I had the batteries connected and the trolling motor installed. She handed me the camera bag.

“Now, that boat paddle on those hooks there, and that pushpole. Just in case the motor dies.”

She provided those, and as she swung over the side into the little boat, I grabbed my survival bag. “Another ‘just in case’ thing. First aid and all that.”

“That’s wise.”

“I try to be wise,” I replied.

“Oh, hush, you! Take me places.”

I was mulling ‘take me places’ as I released our bow line and kicked the almost silent motor on. It’s not fast, not at all, but it’s even quieter than paddling or poling. We eased deeper into the swamp, gliding along with an almost inaudible hum.