The Singing River (13 page)

“You hate anything that makes you sweat,” I teased.

Roman dug his paddle into the river. “And you don’t?”

I laughed. “Depends on what I’m doing.”

Even from the corner of my eye, I caught Haven’s blush.

Marley chuckled. “You don’t have any siblings, do you Haven?”

She shook her head. “Just me and my mom.”

“It’s a royal pain in the ass. Not missing a thing,” I said.

Roman snorted, and even though I knew he was trying his best to remain surly, I was pretty sure I detected a smile.

Haven grinned, pushing her paddle into the water, her gaze following the sun to the spaces in the trees. Her skin was damp in the heat, the end of her braid curling up. Mayflies landed on her legs, but she didn’t shoo them away. Shooing them only stirred them up, caused more of them to congregate, like an outdoor bug revival.

There was momentary peace; the only sound was Uncle Marley as he fiddled with his camera. He held his voice recorder in his free hand as if he were afraid he’d miss something if he put it down.

It was Roman that broke the silence. “Where’s your father?” he asked, his eyes on Haven.

Her gaze moved back to the canoe, her eyes finding mine. Her words from the night before haunted me.
“I am better at being abandoned than I am at keeping people."

“He’s somewhere,” she answered.

Roman persisted. “So he’s alive then?”

She nodded. “He’s a musician.”

I knew by the tone of her voice that she was lying. Haven would be awful at poker. Roman left it alone.

My gaze followed the river. “I think we’ve gone far enough.”

Marley nodded, his stubby fingers pushing at his glasses. “There’s a place there we used to swim. We can stop for a bit before heading back.” There was disappointment in his voice.

We steered the canoe toward the shore, and I jumped into the river as we reached the shallows. Roman jumped out with me, pushing the canoe as I pulled it onto the sand, the water shoes I wore keeping me from sliding. Haven climbed into the water, the river licking at her ankles, her bare toes in the sand and moss.

Leaves shook as a gust of wind moved in.

I glanced at the sky. “It’s going to rain before we leave. Probably tomorrow.”

Haven looked at me. “That weather thing you do …” She shuddered.

My gaze remained on the clouds, watching the way they rolled through the blue sky, a few of them barely grey along the bottom.

“Call it a fascination,” I said.

“It’s damned eerie is what it is,” Roman muttered. “He’s always been good at that kind of crap.”

Haven studied me. “Yet you’re majoring in business in college?”

We’d already had this conversation; she and I and I avoided her gaze.

“The things we do …” My words trailed off.

Maybe it was the tone of my voice, the disdain I knew laced my words, that made Haven move next to me, her body close enough to mine I could feel the heat coming off of her, could smell the scent of apples mixed with the citrusy scent of bug spray. Her fingers dangled near mine, but didn’t touch me.

“Responsibility …” she murmured.

The smile came unbidden. “… is a bitch,” we finished together.

It was becoming our mantra.

Chapter 19

Haven

On the river, in the middle of summer, miles away from everyone, it was easy to forget what life was really like. It was easy to pretend that the people I was with didn’t live down the road from me and yet miles away in society. It seemed normal to be following an old man around as he tried to capture a recording of a death chant. It seemed normal for me to be standing here with a blue blood family I’d only known two days while sinking my toes into dirt, moss, and sand. It even seemed right to want to touch the man next to me.

“Is your uncle always like this?” I asked River, my eyes following Marley as he walked around the river’s edge, his gaze searching the trees, his recorder held high. We’d returned to the bank near the cabin after a few hours of sitting on the sand bar, but we hadn’t gone back into the house. We’d simply hung out in the woods, snacking on beef jerky and trail mix.

River peered down at me. “Is that a ‘your family might be crazy’ tone I detect in your voice?”

I pulled my lower lip into my mouth to keep from chuckling.

River grinned. “Spoken by the girl whose mother let her go on a trip with strangers?”

I shrugged. “I never said
my
family wasn’t crazy.”

River’s gaze moved to the water. Roman was standing near its edge, his eyes weary, his hand on his stomach.

“I think I’m going to lie down,” he said.

River didn’t argue with him, just followed his brother with his eyes as Roman moved to the stairs of the cabin.

“It’ll go away,” I assured him. “The cramps and the nausea are bad, but it’s the depression that’s the worst.”

Marley brushed past us, murmuring to himself.

“I’m going to check the footage on the video camera we set up yesterday,” Marley said aloud.

In moments, River and I were alone.

I gestured at the cabin. “I think maybe …”

A hand closed around my wrist.

River wasn’t looking at me when I glanced up at his face, but he released my arm, his eyes on the river as he suddenly pulled his shirt over his head. I fought to keep my eyes on his face.

His gaze moved to mine. “You like to swim?” he asked.

There was something deceptive about that question, something dangerous and sinful. It was the kind of question I knew I should walk away from.

Instead, I pulled my tank top over my head, revealing a second, cropped ivory tank. River’s teeth flashed white, his eyes falling briefly to my bare stomach before holding out his hand.

“You with me then?”

I stared at his hand, my pulse racing.

“There are too many rules,”
my conscious told me. At the same time, it yelled,
“To hell with rules.”

My palm touched River’s, my skin catching fire as he closed his fingers around mine, pulling me behind him through a short trail leading to an enclosed area once cleared for swimming. My eyes scanned for snakes.

“My family came to the river often when my grandparents were still alive,” River said, his voice low as he stared at the dark water. “There was something about it that my grandmother really loved.”

My hand was still in his, our palms both sweating in the heat. And yet, neither one of us let go. It was as if we were standing on the edge of a precipice about to jump, and if we pulled away, we wouldn’t be able to take the plunge.

I gazed up at River. “Maybe they fell in love here.” River glanced down at me, and I blushed. “Your grandparents I mean.”

River smiled, his gaze searching mine. “Maybe they did.”

He winked, tugging me toward the shore, his feet sinking into the shallow water at the river’s edge. By the way he pulled on my hand, I knew what was coming next, and I paused. There was something reckless in River’s eyes, something I knew was totally out of character for him. Somehow, I knew the River I was standing with now wasn’t the River I would know when we left this place. The other River was the man who’d dragged his brother out of a dairy bar while apologizing about his behavior. That River drove a black Mustang and wore khakis with perfectly brushed hair. That River didn’t do anything without thinking about it first. That River probably made lists of pros and cons.

This River didn’t care about propriety. This River liked to watch the clouds, liked to guess the weather. This River liked to break the rules, liked to throw caution to the wind. He liked to be brash and spontaneous. It was all there in his eyes. I liked this River better.

“It doesn’t make sense,” I breathed. “This.”

River grinned. “It doesn’t?”

I threw him a look. “It’s wrong.”

His smile grew. “But it feels right.” He tugged me toward him, and I let him. “Sometimes I think it’s okay to want something just because it feels good.”

I found myself smiling back, my own desire to be reckless unable to quell it.

“I don’t really know you,” I whispered.

His lips were too close to mine now, his breath fanning across my skin. It was hot, the heat stifling, our ankles covered in cool river water.

“We know enough,” he replied.

When he pulled the band out of my braid, working his fingers through my damp hair, I didn’t stop him. I didn’t stop him when he pulled my bare stomach against his, my navel at his waist. I didn’t stop him when his lips crashed down onto mine, his desperation almost painful. I didn’t stop him when he drew my lower lip into his mouth, his tongue teasing the sensitive, swollen skin as his hand slipped to my waist, his fingers playing with the band of my blue jean shorts.

Terror filled me, but there was something exciting about being afraid of recklessness, something insane about just needing to be someone else for a little while, something desperate about needing to lose yourself in someone who understands the burden of responsibility.

“Haven,” River whispered. His hands cupped my face as he walked us into the river, stopping when the water was swirling around his waist, the cool feel of it stark against my stomach. “You have a damned good name.”

It was the last thing he said to me, his lips worshipping mine, the sound of moving water mixed with buzzing bugs and screaming birds lost to his touch… lost to sensation.

His hands were everywhere, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, letting him hold me up, one leg clinging to his waist. Every part of me burned, every nerve ending on high alert as his fingers skimmed my back before cupping my bottom to press me against him. It was too much, the feel of him. We both gasped, the sound swallowed in our kiss.

River’s fingers dug into my hips, pulling me even closer as he fell back laughing into the river, the water causing me to sputter as I fell with him. It should have cooled our ardor, but it didn’t. If anything, it fed it.

River lifted me, carrying me out of the water, his strength comforting as he eased me down onto the sand, his discarded shirt at my back. It should have been uncomfortable lying on the dirt with the mosquitos hovering. Maybe it was a little, but River did things with his hands and his eyes that took away the discomfort and made me feel comfortable making love on the edge of a river.

In this moment, I was a true wood sprite, my toes digging into the sand, my fingers gripping the hard plane of River’s back as his hand moved between us to unfasten our jeans. And later, when the stars came, that earth shattering sensation of being in Heaven while still on Earth, I knew for sure River’s grandparents had fallen in love at the river ... because rivers were constant. They traveled in one direction, breaking down barriers. At the river there were no rules, no responsibility … because at the river there was only sensation.

The hand that cupped my face now was large, safe, and strong. The hand of a river.

I looked up into the dark eyes of the man above me, the feel of him surrounding me, inside of me, consuming me as I breathed, “You have a damned good name, too.”

You didn’t control a river. You let it run free and flowed with it.