Chapter 12: Mountain Song

I rode with Heather and her parents to the river the next morning. Aongus followed my mom’s car as we wound through the majesty of the Catskills. Early fall was just starting to bring splashes of color to the canopy. None of the adults were interested in fishing, so Heather and I soon found ourselves alone on the banks of the Esopus Creek, not too far from the campground where Lara and I had stayed in August. Our parents continued their scenic drive with the promise to meet back at the picnic area for lunch.

Naturally, Heather snagged a trout within the first hour of being in the rapids. When she realized she had a fish on the hook, her face was a picture of uncertain surprise. She quickly regained her confident swagger, announcing her lead loudly for all the valley to hear even though I was right behind her.

“Of course, you would catch one right away,” I said, trying to make my voice sound a little defeated. I had to admit I was quite proud of her, though. “You still have to land it.”

“I will,” she replied, reeling in with determination.

The fish was just under a foot long, an attractive rainbow. I unhooked the fly from the lower jaw, holding it up. It caught the mid-morning light and shimmered.

“Lunch,” I said. “Nice work, Heather!”

She grinned with childlike excitement. “Okay, look out! I’m on a roll. Time to get number two.” She started pulling line out from the reel.

“You good to go by yourself?”

She nodded gratefully at me. “Thanks,” she said. It was a single warm word in what had been a morning full of teasing and competitiveness, and it was music to my ears.

“Good luck,” I called as I headed toward the bank. I dropped the fish into the bucket of water, then watched as Heather worked the line over her head, letting the tiny fly land in a patch of riffles. She tried to track the drake, losing it in the churning waters. Rescuing the fly from drowning, she sent it airborne again. She really had the rhythm of casting down. Her line made a beautiful curve against the autumnal trees that grew along the far side of the creek.

Time to switch gears. With my help on the river being unneeded, I sat on a rock to set up my Nikon. I momentarily forgot about Heather as I carefully removed an enormous lens from the camera bag. As I hefted it, a pang of sadness surged through me. The previous night, while unpacking my father’s photographic equipment for the darkroom setup, Heather had opened a heavy box hand-labeled as ‘Photo paper, etc.’ Expecting a stack of old and likely useless developing sheets, we found a trove of five meticulously wrapped Nikkor lenses. Unlike the standard look of the three that Melissa had picked out for me last summer, some of these were odd beasts. Two of them looked like monster eyes, fronted as they were by immense bulbous glass. Heather was beside herself with excitement after setting my collection of eight pieces of glass out on the bed. They spanned focal lengths from 8mm to 200mm.

Enthused by the discovery, we’d called my mothers to the cabin. They told us that he’d acquired the Nikon equipment shortly before his death. Having decided that SLR was the format of choice for good photography, he went all in, as it was destined to become his main camera rig. Everything was in mint condition, hardly used in that short period between when he obtained it and when...

Now I marveled at the enormous front element of the f/2 telephoto as I twisted it into place, at the same time wondering what pictures my father might have taken with it. Who knew what memories might have passed through that aperture, memories that had little idea of the tragedy that was to occur within some months. Long years it had slept in that box at Aunt Beth’s and then in our cabin. Now it was well past the time when the lenses deserved to be woken up and put into service again.

I started experimenting with possible angles to photograph Heather from. I wandered the bank, eventually deciding to cross the bridge downstream from her position. I found a perspective that seemed picturesque and took a few shots, trying to grab her in mid-cast. Occasionally she grinned at me. I couldn’t resist photographing her happiness!

The long reach of the Nikkor was incredible, drawing her visage right to me. I basked in the voyeuristic pleasure of watching her work the stream, every little detail of her face fixed with deep concentration, occasionally painted with frustration when the cast went awry or the fly snagged something other than a mykizha.

I followed as she moved up the creek, periodically capturing an unhurried frame. It was an hour later when she finally retired to the bank and hiked back to where I was sitting by the camera bag. I was changing to a new roll of black-and-white film.

“Get one?” I called out as she approached.

“No, no luck. As soon as you left me alone, I guess they stopped biting. Still, it is one-nothing!”

“Well, I haven’t even fished at all yet, so that’s a bit unfair.”

“Your turn, then, Master Matt. How’s that lens?”

“Heavy as hell! But really awesome. Wish I’d found it earlier!”

I traded her the camera for the fly rod and vest. Before I could step into the water, she practically attacked me with a deep kiss that made me want to forget fishing altogether.

“All right, let’s see you catch one,” she urged.

I laughed. “Pressure’s on!”

I spent a good hour on the river, with no luck of course. Heather flitted around on the banks and even in the water behind me, snapping photos. Rather daring, I thought; a slip on a rock would mean certain death for the SLR and that beast of a lens. Still, I decided that she knew what she was doing.

Periodically she heckled me about the lack of trout. Eventually, I gave up when my stomach growled loudly enough that I heard it above the rush of the water. I called out to Heather, pointing to my watch. We met on the bank and soon made our way back to the lunch meeting spot, hand-in-hand.

Heather had no reluctance celebrating in her success when our parents returned from their drive. As she gleefully displayed her trout, Melissa didn’t miss the opportunity to get in some teasing herself, since I was the supposed ‘expert’.

After lunch, the adults departed on a hike, leaving Heather and me to the whims of the river once more. I took the spinning reel while she tried fly-fishing again. So that I wouldn’t spook her fish, I moved upstream, keeping ahead of her as she followed me.

The afternoon was just about perfect. I was pleased to catch two small trout in quick succession, holding them up with glee so Heather could see them from a distance. The first one got a thumbs up, but the second drew an exaggerated hands-on-hips pose from her. I laughed, making my way to the bank to deposit the fish in the plastic bag I’d brought with me. Heather had taken the bucket, sure that she’d be the one needing it.

I eyed the two catches. They were small. I wondered if by weight Heather would still be in the lead. Then I laughed. I was pretty sure that no matter what, she would be ahead when all was tallied. And I also didn’t much care anymore. It was amusing, but we both knew that our friendly competition was just a tradition. Neither really cared who won. Well, at least I didn’t!

Some time later, I was surprised to look up and see a familiar large boulder. I’d put Alana completely out of my mind for the last two days. Suddenly a pang of guilt went through me before I had a chance to stop it. I hadn’t told Heather about her yet. Or the pot smoking, for that matter. So much for my plan to come clean.

As I was considering the situation, I caught my third fish. I smiled, realizing from the pull on the line that it was a good size. When I finally drew it close, I knew I would definitely be in the lead by weight. It was a nicely fattened brown trout, perhaps fourteen inches long. I worked carefully to land it, trying to avoid an excited error that would let the sleek spotted fish get free before I could claim it.

When I had a good grip of its jaw and extracted the hook, I held it up. A violent thrashing nearly caused me to lose my hold, but I managed to clamp my fingers tight before it slipped off. It took some time, but Heather eventually glanced my way. I could almost see her eyes widen in surprise. A few minutes later, I met her on the side of the stream.

“Wow, that’s a big one!”

“Yeah, a big, meaty one, I’ll say!”

Heather stuck her tongue out at me. She peered into the plastic bag and then held out her empty bucket. “Here, let’s put them in water.”

I put some river into the pail. When I dropped the fish in, the big one immediately fought to find an escape, which in turn woke up the two smaller ones. They feebly tried to show some life, but their time in the bag had left them asphyxiated beyond the point of return. Soon they became lifeless again.

“You sure are catching up,” Heather remarked casually.

“Catching up?” I echoed, only partially surprised at her words.

“Five to three.”

“Oh? When did you catch four more?”

“Didn’t. But fly-fishing seems to be about five times as hard as regular tackle.”

And there it is. I laughed for a long time.

“What?” Heather asked, innocently.

Still laughing, I grabbed the bucket and my rod. “Come on.”

“What? Where are we going?”

“Let’s walk. I want to show you something.”

At first, she seemed suspicious, but eventually she followed along beside me, telling me how much she liked being on the river and casting the fly rod. As we approached the large boulder, I turned to enter the water. I guided her across the set of riffles downstream of the deep jumping pool, avoiding the hole that had almost claimed Alana’s crossing a few months earlier. Once safely in the shallows, I led her to the pebbly expanse that spread out south of the big stone.

“Cool rock,” Heather said, appreciating its massiveness.

“Definitely. Take off your clothes,” I said casually.

She looked around, a glint in her eyes. “Ooh, what are we going to do?”

“We’re going to climb up there.”

Heather considered the giant boulder. With a shrug, she disrobed to her bathing suit and then hooked a finger under the waistband of her bikini bottom.

“Take it all off?”

I grinned at her willingness, but kept my head. “No, keep your suit on. We’re in full view of anyone on the river, if you haven’t noticed.”

Heather nodded, standing there expectantly and looking very tasty. “Are you going to take your clothes off?” she asked.

“Mm hmm.”

Heather murmured and reached immediately for the camera bag. I rolled my eyes as I set down my fishing gear and stripped to my bathing suit. She soon snapped a few pictures, cooing in pleasure.

“Hot!” she said. “Hey, face me for a sec. Yeah ... Cross your arms in front. No, like this.” She demonstrated.

A slightly odd request, I thought, but I obliged.

“Smile!”

She put the camera away after taking more shots of that pose than I thought necessary. I could hardly complain, though. I had more than a few of her in provocative poses to enjoy.

I led her around the boulder and then scrambled up the side, gaining the flat top with a little effort. When she joined me, she whistled appreciatively as she took in the view from this new vantage point. Then she looked at me excitedly.

“Now what?”

I answered by taking a few running steps toward the edge and jumping off. I heard a surprised shriek behind me. My stomach lurched as I made the descent. The river caught me a moment later, adrenaline surging through me as the cool water enveloped me. I surfaced and sputtered, having neglected to hold my nose. Once my eyes cleared, I looked up at Heather. She was grinning at me, her expression bright.

“That looks awesome! Watch out, I’m coming!”

I let the slow current carry me away from the landing zone. A second later she splashed down near me, her long whoop cut off as she penetrated the pool.

“That is so much fun!” she cried after emerging from the water. “I love it! Let’s do it again!”

I laughed at her enthusiasm. “Had a feeling you’d like it.”

Heather led the way this time. She made sure she got ‘stuck’ on the climb, forcing me to push her up from behind. I knew it was a fake when she murmured as my hand pushed on her bum. Still, that didn’t stop me from helping.

After countless leaps from the boulder, we at last regained the summit and sat on the sun-warmed rock, winded and laughing.

“How did you know you could jump in?” she asked.

I shrugged. “I didn’t. Just went for it.”

Heather smirked. “No way. That would’ve been suicide.”

I fessed up. “When I was here with Lara back in August, there were some other people doing it, so I tried it too.”

I realized this was my opening to tell her about Alana. I was about to continue, but I hesitated too long. Heather interrupted with a change of subject that I could not brush aside.

“Let’s do it,” she said, her voice lowered.

“What?”

“Right here. No one will see us.”

I looked around, feeling aroused but also a bit anxious about losing my chance to tell Heather the rest of the story. She was already crawling over to me. Before I could protest, I was being thrust onto my back. I let her kiss me for a while, enjoying her hands as they rubbed me vigorously. The anxiety quickly got the better of me, though, so I pushed her up.

“We should go somewhere more private,” I gasped.

“Why?”

“There are hikers all around, people tube down this river, other people fishing...”

Perhaps my words made sense, because she nodded slowly. “I guess you’re right,” she murmured.

“We can walk into the woods,” I suggested.

“We could,” she said, though her voice had lost much of its excitement.

She sat next to me, propped on one arm. The sun was behind her as I looked up at her, so I couldn’t really read her face. But I knew I’d ruined the moment. Then again, it was plain crazy to have sex up on the rock! She turned to watch the water for a bit. Finally I couldn’t bear the silence anymore.

“Sorry,” I murmured.

She looked at me with a small, apologetic smile, but didn’t speak.

“I’m a little paranoid, I guess,” I continued. “What if someone comes down the river?”

Heather took a while to reply. “That’s the fun, isn’t it?”

I considered her for a while. Sometimes her actions were so incongruous with the image I had of her. She was so bubbly and sunny, and yet could be such a daredevil for certain things. I wasn’t sure why I believed those didn’t go together, but at any rate, it did make for frequent surprises. I thought I should be used to it by now, but I wasn’t.

“And if someone sees us?” I asked cautiously.

“We’ll be quick and stay low. Low and slow!” she rhymed. “That’s our motto! Unless they come close, they won’t know what’s going on. And if they do, we’ll just jump into the pool and get the hell out of here.”

I sniffed. “Run away from our folks?”

“They won’t hike this far to look for us. And anyone else, we’ll never see them again. But hey, probably no one will come. I haven’t seen a single person in the last hour.” Heather’s voice was vivacious again, sensing that I was on the verge of giving in.

She was right. I looked around one final time. “How do we do it?”

Heather grinned wickedly as she lay back on the rock. “Just get on top of me.”

She pulled her bathing suit bottom to the side, exposing her mons. Her soft hairs glistened in the afternoon light. I stared for a good fifteen seconds as she pushed a finger up and down her channel. I’m on top of a fucking rock in the Esopus, watching my girl finger herself. I wondered if my friends were doing anything like this. I almost laughed out loud, wondering if they’d ever believe this tale. Not that I would tell them...

She kept her glinting eyes fixed on mine. With her other hand, she ran a few fingers over the rock-hard erection that was now tenting my bathing suit. It was an almost painful jolt that went through me.

“Put on a rubber,” she whispered.

I suddenly felt deflated at my continual lack of preparation. “Oh fuck,” I cried, my shoulders sagging. “Not again!”

“Relax! There’s some in the top pocket of the fishing vest.”

I blinked at her. “What?”

She just grinned at me, moving her finger a little more animatedly. “Hurry. I really want you.”

I descended from the rock, my limbs shaking slightly. I dug into the pocket, finding the promised rubbers. After extracting one, I clambered back to the top. Carefully so, because it would’ve really sucked to fall down to the pebbly beach just then.

After a sheepish look at her, I lowered the waistband of my suit so that I could put on the protection. As soon as I rolled the latex into place, she pulled me over to lie on top of her, spreading her legs but keeping them flat against the rock. I was still glancing around nervously when she gently drew my chin to face her. I started to kiss her, trying to ease into the sex.