Jeff cut the engine and drifted toward a pyramid of rocks stacked on the shore. Glancing back, Mace noticed Maggie rolling up the bottom of her pants and he realized they would have to jump out into the surf and drag the boat into the shallows in order to unload everything. He leaned down and rolled up his pant legs, copying her. He and Robert maneuvered the fishing boat onto the sand while Jeff pulled up the motor. Maggie and Patty carried the gear to shore, stacking it beneath the trees, and waited for the men to unload the two canoes.
As they began to pack the gear into the canoes, Mace noticed immediately that the fiberglass canoe rode low in the water, while the Grumman had a high profile.
This is gonna be rough if the wind keeps up.
“Hand over some of those packs,” he said to Robert. “We need more weight in our canoe.”
“Nah, I got it.”
“Seriously, man, we need more weight in our canoe. Toss a bag over.”
Robert picked through the gear and, reluctantly, it seemed to Mace, handed him a waterproof bag containing a sleeping bag, a sleeping pad, and a plastic tarp. Mace stuffed it in the middle of the canoe next to Maggie’s backpack. “You got anything else?”
Robert looked over at Patty. “You can give them the stove,” she said, “but the other two kitchen packs stay in our canoe.”
Mace caught Maggie’s eyes. She rolled hers, but she accepted the small pack from Patty containing the single-burner stove and stuck it in the bottom of the Grumman.
Mace and Robert shoved Jeff’s boat into deeper water and Jeff lowered the engine and started it up. He let it idle. “You got your satellite phone?” he called.
Robert stood, staring back at Jeff, a blank expression on his face. “No, I guess I forgot it. But we won’t need it.” He patted the front pocket of his waterproof vest. “I have my GPS.”
“Anybody bring a cell phone?” Jeff asked.
Mace looked at Maggie and she looked at him. “I left my phone in my purse, up in the loft,” she said.
“Mine’s up in the loft as well,” said Mace. For the first time since they’d arrived at the cabin, Jeff appeared disconcerted.
“How will I know when to pick you up? What if something happens and you need to get hold of me?”
Robert waved him off. “Just be here on Friday, late afternoon, say three. That gives us four full days of canoeing. We can get in a short trip on the last day.” Walking through the shallows past Mace, he gave him a pat on the arm. “There are some great places to canoe in the BWCA.” Putting an arm around Maggie, Robert said, “Get ready for the trip of your life.” He and Patty climbed into their canoe.
Maggie looked like she’d just swallowed a bug, but Robert didn’t seem to notice. Gamely, she pointed the canoe in the direction they would be paddling and straddled it, steadying the vessel so Mace could climb in the back. He settled himself on the rear seat, keeping the canoe centered as she stepped in and sat down. “You want your life jacket?”
Maggie turned around and he handed it to her. She tucked it beneath her seat. “We’re staying in the shallows for a while. If things get hairy, I’ll put it on.” Mace followed her example.
The Grumman rode so high they took on very little water, but it quickly became apparent they could not keep up with Robert and Patty. The new fiberglass canoe sliced through the water like a butter knife, leaving barely a wake. Mace and Maggie soon found themselves lagging far behind.
Maggie turned around on the seat. “Mace, you’re going to have to move the gear forward. I’m not heavy enough and the bow is riding too high in the water.”
“Yeah, got it.”
The two of them rearranged the gear, stowing most of it right behind Maggie’s seat. When Mace finally looked up, Robert and Patty had vanished from sight. “Where the hell did they go?”
Maggie lifted her head. “If we stick to the shoreline, we’ll find them at the portage site.”
“Yeah, well, they shouldn’t leave us behind.” Mace began to paddle on the starboard side, Maggie on the port side.
“What’s up with this canoe?” she asked. “Can’t you keep it straight?”
“It’s not me,” Mace grumbled. “It’s the canoe. It lists to the right. I think it’s that dent in the keel.”
“So are you telling me I have to paddle on the left for five days?”
Mace laughed. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Without warning, Maggie swung her paddle to the right. “Switch,” she called out, “and let’s see what happens.”
Mace moved his paddle to port. He completely overpowered Maggie and they turned in a three-hundred-sixty-degree circle. When they finally faced the right way, she stopped paddling and glanced over her shoulder. “This oughta be interesting.”
“Tell me about it,” said Mace. “This thing is a piece of shit.”
The two paddled along the shore, proceeding in fits and starts, struggling to keep the canoe straight.
Maggie’s voice drifted back to him. “Did you happen to catch the reason we couldn’t use the other decent canoe?”
“Nope. You?”
“Nope. And by the way, my paddle sucks.”
Mace laughed. “Mine too. Like good old Robbie said, get ready for the trip of your life.”
* * * *
Maggie smashed her big toe helping Mace portage the canoe up the narrow, rocky trail, over the hill, and down the other side. That aluminum sucker was heavy, close to a hundred pounds, as compared to Robert’s high-tech baby, which she figured weighed in at around forty. Mace groused the entire time the canoe was on his shoulders. He protested that he could do it by himself, but he was wearing sandals, the trail was rocky, and he couldn’t see where he was going. She did her best to guide him, but in the end, they both screwed up and the tip of the canoe crashed down on her big toe, before bouncing off a rock with a sickening thud. She managed to keep the cursing down to a low roar until they dumped the canoe into the water, but Christ, it hurt. The bed of her toenail filled with blood immediately.
She dropped down onto a rock, Mace beside her. He grabbed her foot, pulled it into his lap, and pulled off her sandal. “Shit. I am so sorry. It’s my fault. In about five minutes, that’s gonna hurt like a son of a bitch.”
Maggie groaned. “In about five minutes? Fuck. Just rip it off now. It’s not your fault. You told me not to help you. Shit, this hurts. Robert must have a first aid kit in one of those packs.”
Mace studied the injury. “I can’t rip it off. I don’t want you to get an infection and we’re going to be walking in a lot of muck. I’ll have to punch a hole in it to relieve the pressure. Hey, Robert,” he called, “you got a paperclip or a safety pin?”
Robert and Patty were repacking their canoe, oblivious of the fact that Maggie was injured. Robert strolled over to them. “Why? What’s up?”
“I need something to relieve the pressure beneath Maggie’s toenail. A paperclip and a pack of matches would do it.”
Robert looked down at her toe. “If the two of you had been more careful with the canoe, that wouldn’t have happened.”
Maggie bit back a nasty reply. Seeing the look on Mace’s face, she put a hand on his arm, hoping he wouldn’t slug the man.
Mace closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “You gonna help, or you gonna stand there and be an asshole?”
Maggie thought his response was quite restrained, considering how much pain she was in and how obnoxious Robert’s attitude was.
Robert stuck both hands in his pockets.
Gee, take your time, why don’t you? Is he thinking? Ow, my toe! He appears to be thinking. Must be challenging for him, this business of thinking.
“Patty,” Robert called out. “Unpack the first aid kit.”
“But it’s all the way in the bottom of the…”
“Just unpack it.” Cursing under his breath, Mace interrupted her whine of protest. After a few moments, she handed it to him. “Thank you,” Mace said in a voice cold as ice.
“Oooh, that looks painful,” Patty commented, staring at Maggie’s toe.
“Matches?” asked Mace, thumbing through the contents of the kit.
Robert fished through the pockets of his waterproof vest. “Here.”
Maggie watched Mace complete his search of the first aid kit. He looked up at her. “There’s nothing in here I can use. The tweezers are too large.”
Maggie had a sudden revelation. “My pack,” she said. “Get my pack. If I’m lucky, my Swiss Army knife is still in one of the pockets. I don’t think I took it out after my last backpacking trip. There’s got to be something on that you can use.” She cringed when Mace lowered her foot to the sand.
Fuck, this hurts
.
Mace returned, holding her knife. “Got it.” He pulled out the hardware. “I’m going to have to use the reamer; it has the smallest diameter. Maggie,” he stopped and reached for her hand, “this will be agony, but it’ll be brief.”
“I know.” She took a deep breath and blew it out. “Just do it.” She watched Mace heat up the reamer. He’d need to get it scorching hot to burn through the nail.
“You want Robert or Patty to hold your foot steady?”
“Hell no.” She gritted her teeth. “Go.”
Mace placed her foot between his thighs. “All right, keep very still.”
Maggie stared out over the water, nostrils wrinkling as she smelled the burning nail before she felt the heat bite into the injured flesh. “Oh…God…” She closed her eyes and tried not to scream. Gradually, the pain subsided to a manageable level. Opening her eyes, she looked down to see a hole in her big toe and bright red blood all over Mace’s hand.
“Are you all right? You look pale.”
Maggie nodded her head. She was feeling nauseated, but between the pain, little food, and even less sleep, it didn’t surprise her. “I’m okay, Mace. Thanks. It feels better, but I think I should pour some alcohol or peroxide over it. Did I see some alcohol wipes in the first aid kit?”
“I’ll take care of it.” He poured some bottled water over his hands, washing off the blood, before he ripped open a couple of packages and pressed the alcohol pads to her toe.
Maggie sucked in a breath and tried to ignore the stinging sensation.
Talk about adding insult to injury. Geez!
“I wish I could wrap this, but your feet are going to be wet for the next five days, so a dressing would be pointless. I’m sorry, Maggie, it really was my fault.” He looked very contrite.
“Shut up, Mace. It wasn’t your fault.” Maggie gave him a weak smile.
“Hey,” called Robert, “if you two are finished over there, we need to get going. I want to be past Windy Point before the worst of the storm hits.”
“Windy Point,” Mace muttered, as he helped her put her sandal on. “Sounds inviting.”
Maggie laughed. “Yeah, Windy Point. I saw it on the map. We have about four miles to go. Think you can manage to keep this canoe headed in the right direction if I paddle my ass off?”
Mace pulled her to her feet. He held tight to her hands and their eyes met. For a moment she thought he might kiss her. She wished he would kiss her. His mouth opened as if he wanted to say something, but then he closed it and shook his head.
“What?” Maggie asked.
“Nothing. We better get our gear stowed. Looks like our guides are leaving without us.”
* * * *
It’s a nice ass
.
I wish I had that ass in my hands right now
. That’s what he’d wanted to say, but he couldn’t say it. She’d withdraw from him again. He couldn’t believe she didn’t slug him after he dropped a hundred-pound aluminum canoe on her toe. Mace had slammed his fingers in the car door often enough to know how much pain she was in, but Maggie was a trooper. She’d looked as if she might throw up when he’d punctured her nail…Christ, he felt like he might throw up, but all she did was close her eyes and breathe. It was one thing to do that to a patient in an exam room with sterile equipment and maybe some lidocaine gel. It was an entirely different feeling to deliberately inflict pain upon someone you cared about.