Chapter Stocking up.
He shrugged into his shirt and helped her on with hers. They would need nothing else where they were for the moment.
“When we settle down to eat, we can continue this, but I have other things that I must do first.” He pointed. “I’m going to investigate those bins over there. That’s where they’ll keep the first aid kit as well as whatever remains of the food left for those rafters on Monday night. What they didn’t use or take with them will still be there. I doubt anyone was able to come back to recover any of that after those storms we had, and I doubt they’ll get in today, either.”
She checked the signal on her phone, holding it high and moving it around, seeing that the signal was intermittent.
She pushed a pre-programmed number and listened.
Nothing.
“No signal that I can use.”
He kissed her, not wanting to leave her yet, but knew that he would have to if they expected to eat something better than his meager, remaining supplies.
There were three boxes with metal cladding and secure latches to keep animals out. They were designed to hold different things, or so the stenciling on them said; one was labelled, FOOD; another, separated by a few tens of feet from the first was identified as, GARBAGE, and a third, larger one, separated even farther away; at least a hundred feet from the others, was painted with the words, CHEMICAL TOILETS.
He checked out the food box. That was the only one that interested him. They could make plans for either staying here and waiting for a rescue, or going on, after they had eaten.
There was more food than he expected, and even a few pans. There were two large coolers with ice still in them, and water collecting in the bottom; an unopened gallon of milk nestled in melting ice, two loaves of bread, fresh fruit, gallons of bottled water, and shelving on three sides of the box, holding large and small cans of a variety of canned, dried, and preserved goods, even meats, canned cooked sausages, and canned bacon (he’d never seen those before), enough to last a stranded rafting party for at least two days. They intended that no one would starve if the weather turned really bad and kept them from taking to the river again.
At least their food problems were now solved.
There was also a complete first aid box.
He would make use of what they needed, and when they got out of here, he’d be sure to contact the rafting company; their number was also on the boxes, and let them know what he’d taken, and why.
He sorted out what they would need, picked up another couple of pans, and carried everything back to where Claire was keeping the fire going. They would eat well from that supply, and for the next two days.
If they decided to go on, he would leave his ropes behind, with a note explaining who he was, what he had done, where he could be found, and leaving his cellphone number so that they could decide what he owed them for raiding that supply. Claire suggested that he added the number for Claire’s grandmother, so they could call her too when they discovered what had happened, and telling them that Claire Prescott was with him, and that they would be in Culver in a couple of days.
As they waited for the water to heat and other food to simmer, he saw to her feet once more, sitting in front of her, washing them, putting a much larger band-aid over the ball of her foot, and another smaller strip behind her ankle, encouraging her to lie back and rest in the sand with her feet exposed to the air. There was much more of her for him to admire and touch too, laughing at each other as she openly tormented him, feeling no shyness now. He reached up to rest both of his hands full on her bare abdomen.
“If…”
He paused. ′No ifs, be positive’.
“Just think, Claire, our girls are getting a start on life here, even now.”
She blushed, happy that he understood her conviction about becoming pregnant earlier that same morning. “We should make a note of the date and trace everything back to that moment when we first made love in the most meaningful way.” (When he had gone into her body, fully).
She smiled at him, putting her own hands over his, loving the feel of him touching her body as familiarly as he was, experiencing a thrill of pleasure at his words and his touch.
“I already did, Royce. I entered everything into my phone for when I get home.” And she meant, ‘everything’! He didn’t know the half of it. She’d better watch her battery use.
After he had finished with her feet, pulling her socks over them to keep the sand out, he slowly moved up on her and lay his head upon her, as though listening, but knowing that there would be nothing to hear for some months yet.
She had never been happier, knowing that she had helped him back into the world he really belonged in; the world with her and Jen, who was everywhere around them. At least she wanted to think she was. Perhaps Jen was able to gain some pleasure from him making love to her. If Jen wanted to, Claire would happily let her into her body to share those feelings.
Where they were, back from the main camping area, they were out of sight and could lay back in the warm sand together, hidden by the sparse vegetation; play, discover more of each other as lovers always wanted to do, kiss, and make love again whenever the mood came over them. They should do that again before they left here.
If they heard or saw anyone or anything, they would have time to get fully dressed before they signaled, or tried to attract attention.
If they signaled anyone.
If she was not concerned about being rescued so soon, then neither should he be. Neither of them was in any real physical difficulty now, and he didn’t want this to end, any more than she did.
She might be imagining it, but she also began to hear things again; the distant, steady ‘thump’ of what she assumed was a helicopter, unless her imagination was playing tricks with her. He had seen her listen attentively, but whatever it was, it was too far away to be sure about anything.
She could always hear something she did not want to hear, even if it was all in her imagination; helicopters, planes; even voices, and it made her edgy and wanting to get away from this place. He had been the one suggesting they walk, rather than sit and wait and go mad, waiting for something that might not happen. Especially if you didn’t want it to happen.
The rafting party must have been able to raise the alarm and get a rescue started by now, so anything should be expected.
She made a quick decision, hoping he would not insist that they stay, after hearing the same things she’d heard.
“We don’t need to stay here once we’ve eaten, Royce. We can make love again, and then we should go on, rather than sit here. We are not so far from Marsden, where there should be a stronger signal there for me to phone my grandmother, and let her know I’m okay.”
He would not argue with her. It matched his own discomforted feelings, never wanting this time between them to end and realizing how vulnerable they both were if anything changed too quickly.
“How are your feet? Really.” It all came down to how her feet were.
“More comfortable than they were. I can walk now with those other things on the bottom of my feet. We can go slowly, and it will be better than sitting here waiting for a rescue that could still be a day or two away.”
She repeated herself, convinced that she could hear too many things coming closer to them that she didn’t want to hear. “We don’t need to wait here, Royce, not now that my feet are healing, and now that we have enough food and water for at least two more days. We need to move on.
“Besides…I like what is happening between us, and I’m not sure I want to be found just yet.” He looked at her as they both smiled and then chuckled, seeing meaning in what was being suggested. Once it was clear that they were both of the same mind--an exciting thought in itself--there was no point in delaying.
“My feelings exactly. Then we’ll go on, but I had to be sure about your feet, first. We have a fairly easy walk out of here, and Marsden is just a short walk across the plateau, but it will be tomorrow before we get there.” She didn’t care.
He began to pack everything away.
“We can camp close to Marsden tonight. By later tomorrow, we’ll be at Witches’ Cauldron, and by late Saturday we should be in Culver.”
She was no longer afraid of the symbolism of that romantic and magical place. She had him now. He was safe again.
By the time they reached Culver, they would have been in each other’s company from the afternoon of the previous Monday, to Saturday evening; five complete days and nights together; in which a lifetime of things had happened between them that still left her head spinning, short of breath and her senses pounding. So little of it had been what she could ever have anticipated in her life, especially the falling-in-love part of it, and the making-love.
Her parents would have got back from Europe by then, if the alarm had gone out last night or today.
This would all be relatively unbelievable for anyone who had not lived what they had lived, to understand, but she would have to tell someone. She couldn’t just become quiet, as though nothing had happened to her, or between them, or about what she knew was already growing in her body. She was not that good at hiding such monumental secrets from her grandmother. She would be the one to learn of this before anyone else.
There’d be a lot of questions to answer and a lot of calls to make, especially to let everyone on that rafting party know that she was safe. She could ask about Elinor, the girl she’d tried to help at the back of the raft and who had seen her go overboard.
Her parents would be shocked and horrified when she showed up at home with a strange man, and introduced him as the man in her life, as well as looking the worse for wear, obviously in love and telling them what they would never want to hear so suddenly. And then when they learned that she was pregnant...? Whooee!
And then she and Royce would have to excuse themselves and go and make love somewhere, leaving them dismayed, wide-eyed, and in shock.
Yes, that would go over well! Claire would enjoy every minute of it.