Remember
Maggie’s toe?
I haven’t checked that toe since yesterday. What if she’s septic? What if she’s got an infection?
He rushed back to the shelter and ripped the sleeping bag off Maggie.
“What?” She sat up, startled.
“Your toe, I need to look at your toe.”
“Right this second?”
“Yes, right now.” He reached for her bare foot, studying the nail on the big toe. It had turned black, but there was no swelling, no sign of infection. The skin surrounding the nail was a normal color.
Thank god
.
Maggie looked up into his face. “It’s fine, Mace. I’d tell you if it wasn’t.” She grinned. “Not that you could do anything if I did get an infection. You’d have to heat up my Swiss army knife and amputate, just like the surgeons did during the Civil War.”
“Don’t joke about this, Maggie. Out here in the woods, you could get septic from an injury like this. Christ, look at us, we’re filthy.”
“I can fix that.”
“Fix what?”
“Fix filthy. I have some eco-friendly camp shampoo and soap in my pack. I also have a quick-dry towel. We can take a bath in the shallows, if you like. It’s not as cold today.”
“Must be the headache talking. I think you’re slurring your words. You actually suggested we get in the water.”
“Really, Mace, it might feel good.” She grinned up at him. “It might make us feel human to get clean. I hate being this grungy. Whenever I’m on a camping trip I take a bath and wash my hair. I don’t care if the water is ice cold. Being clean just makes you feel better, especially in a bad situation. Besides, if we happen to be rescued, I don’t want the rangers holding their noses. It’s kind of like wearing decent underwear in case you’re in an accident and the paramedics have to cut it off.”
Mace laughed. “All right, I’m game if you’re up for it. You’re sure the headache won’t get worse?”
“You want the truth?”
“Of course.”
“My headache is going to get worse whether I take a bath or not. Everything is sparkly, which means a whopper is coming on, probably in another few hours.” She must have seen the worry in his face because she added, “Mace, even if I lie here without moving a muscle, it’s going to get worse. There’s nothing either of us can do, aside from using the pain pills.”
“You could take a preventative, you know, not that we have any with us.”
“No, I can’t. I have a heart murmur and my physician won’t prescribe anything other than pain pills.”
A heart murmur?
“I see that doctor light shining from your eyes. Don’t sweat it, Mace; it’s not life-threatening.”
“But do you use a prophylaxis when you…?”
“Mace,” Maggie interrupted, “you’re not my doctor, you’re my…” She looked away from him.
He reached beneath her chin and turned her face back toward his. “I’m your what?”
She swallowed hard. He could see her throat working. “You’re everything I don’t believe in anymore.”
Mace sat down next to her. “What don’t you believe in, Maggie?”
She hesitated and he thought she might not answer him. “A good man,” she said at last. “Someone I can depend on.”
Mace was silent. He scooted closer and reached for her hand. The two of them sat together, leaning against each other beneath the tarp. The only sound Mace heard was the echo of their quiet breathing within the shelter. In that moment, he knew without a doubt that he would marry Maggie Anderson.
Chapter Ten
Maggie couldn’t sleep. The right side of her head throbbed so badly she smashed her face against the cold, hard ground, hoping somehow her head would go numb. Every hour, Mace helped her to sit up and made her drink. She knew dehydration would make her headache worse, but it took every ounce of willpower she had not to retch. Even plain water made her nauseated.
In the middle of the night, Mace sat up and, without a word, shifted her position until her head lay in his lap. He began to massage her temples. At first, the pain grew so intense she wanted to scream, but eventually it lessened and she was able to doze for brief periods. She wished she could tell him to get some rest himself, that she’d be all right, but this migraine was exactly what she’d expected, a whopper. Just a whisper hurt like hell.
She tried to distract herself by planning menus, imagining all the delicious foods she would make when she and Mace got out of this stinking fresh air. When that didn’t work, her mind wandered to the bath they’d taken together in the cold water…how Mace had kept her warm and made her come at least a dozen times.
An orgasm is supposed to help a migraine,
he’d said. Despite everything, Maggie felt the tiniest tug at both corners of her mouth.
Well, it didn’t make it any worse, that’s for sure
.
You know you love him. You want to be with him. You should tell him
.
I can’t tell him now. I can’t even open my eyes. If we get out of here in one piece, I’ll tell him.
And what if you don’t get out of here? Will you leave the words unsaid? Go to a watery grave regretting the fact that you didn’t tell him how you feel?
Don’t be so melodramatic. If anyone can get me back to safety, it’s Mace. He promised, remember? He’s the most competent, the most trustworthy man I’ve ever known. We’ll make it back.
The motion of Mace’s fingers on her temples stopped abruptly. Even in her migraine-induced delirium, she felt his body tighten, and he held himself abnormally still. She cracked her eyes open. Not five feet from them, its massive profile visible in the light cast by the fire, stood an enormous moose. Despite her pounding head, Maggie lay transfixed by the sight.
“Don’t move a muscle.” Mace’s whisper was barely audible; Maggie was surprised she even heard him.
For a creature that large, the moose was surprisingly quiet. He shuffled through their makeshift campsite, snuffling at their belongings and at last, sticking his muzzle against the tarp and giving a huge snort. Maggie had to bite her lip to keep from giggling. She knew moose could be bad tempered, but this one didn’t seem particularly threatening, just curious. After a few moments, it left their campsite, trotting off into the forest. As it disappeared from view, they heard the distant howl of a wolf, followed by the voice of another wolf and then a third.
In the silence that followed, Mace blew out a long breath. “What the fuck is this,” he hissed, “Wild Kingdom?”
“Exactly.” Maggie began to giggle, which made her head hurt worse, but she couldn’t stop.
“Quit laughing. A bear will probably show up next. I spotted a pile of fresh bear shit over by the beaver lodge.”
Holding her head with both hands, Maggie laughed harder. “I can’t help it. That moose snorted at us. And here I thought we smelled better.”
Mace chuckled. “I smell clean and fresh. You smell like sex. But then, you always smell very slightly of pheromones. It’s one of the many things I find appealing about you. Here.” He pried open the plastic bag. “It’s been four hours, take two more.” He propped Maggie up so she could swallow her pain pills.
“I hope I don’t smell like musquick,” Maggie muttered as she lay back down. “Did you think that moose was going to stomp on us?”
“What’s musquick?”
“That sticky mud we stepped in today, in the shallows. It’s like quicksand only not deadly, except to shoes.”
Mace laughed. “Oh, I thought you were delirious and you were talking about the baking stuff, Bisquick.” He stroked her cheek. “Go to sleep, Maggie. Let the pain pills do their job. And yes, I was a little concerned about the moose. They’re not the placid animals people think they are. They can be pretty territorial.”
Maggie yawned and curled up on her side, trying to find a comfortable spot. “He snuffled like a horse.”
Mace stretched out and pressed against her back, molding his body to hers, sheltering her from the cold night air. Maggie relaxed. Secure in the knowledge that he was right there if she needed him, she gave in to the medicine and at last fell into a deep sleep.
* * * *
“Mace?”
In the midst of his dream, Maggie said his name.
“Mace?”
He heard the voice again and struggled to wake up. “Hmmm?”
“What is that clacking noise?”
“Wha…what?”
“That clacking noise…I think it’s Bigfoot smashing something.”
Half-awake, Mace burst into laughter. “Bigfoot? What the hell? Bigfoot?” He opened his eyes. It was still dark and the fire had burned down to ashes. He heard a noise coming from the beach. It sounded like two rocks being smacked together.
“That noise. Is it Bigfoot? The only animals I know of that hit things with rocks are chimps and sea otters. I don’t think river otters have anything to hit with rocks. There are no anemones up here.”
“So therefore you’ve jumped to the logical conclusion that it must be Bigfoot making that noise?”
Maggie gave a little snort of either indignation or amusement, he didn’t know which. “Yes.”
He brushed his lips against her ear. “Will it make you feel better if I look?”
She turned to face him, sliding her arm around his waist. “Only if I come with you, so I can protect you.”
His mouth against hers, he asked, “You and what army, baby?”
“I don’t need an army, Mace. Bigfoot is nonviolent.”
He kissed her, long and slow. When he lifted his head, he realized the clacking noise continued unabated. Mace sighed.
After everything else we’ve seen and heard tonight,
I better find out what that is
.
I don’t think bears smash anything with rocks, but I could be wrong
. “I’m going to have a look.” Maggie started to get up, to accompany him, but he held her down. “Stay put. If I need you, I’ll yell for you.”
“But Mace…”
“No buts. Stay here. That’s an order. I’ll be back in a minute or two.”
Mace left the flashlight behind. The cloud cover had blown away and he had no problem finding his way to the shore. The full moon reflected off the water, illuminating the woods and the path. He kept quiet, his bare feet making no sound. The clacking noise grew louder, and he studied the rocky shoreline ahead, half expecting to see Maggie’s Bigfoot smashing freshwater clams or crushing crawfish, but as far as he could tell, there was nothing on the beach.
As he stood perplexed, his toes buried in cold sand, he saw a large animal slide through the water right in front of him. A big, flat tail rose from the still lagoon and smacked down with a loud clacking sound. Mace jumped. Suddenly there was another animal and another tail. It, too, smacked against the water. The noise the beavers generated sounded exactly like two stones clacking together. Mace bit back a delighted laugh when he noticed three kits following suit, with their much smaller tails. He didn’t want to scare the animals, not before Maggie had a chance to see this.
Backtracking up the path, he found Maggie sitting up beneath the tarp. “Is it Bigfoot?” She kept her voice to a whisper.
“Better. You’ve got to see this. C’mon, Maggie.” Mace pulled her to her feet and shook out the sleeping bag, wrapping it around her. He pushed her hair out of her eyes, and lifted her chin so he could look at her. “How’s the head? Do you feel well enough to walk down to the shore?”
“Yeah.” She smiled up at him. “The pain has subsided to a dull roar. I’m all right. I want to know what animal is clacking rocks together.”