The Trouble with Rescuing Zoe Read online

  “It's October now. November, December, January, February, March…and by April it’ll be spring, so if we have to, we should be able to easily walk out.” He held up the fingers he had ticked off. “That's about six months. If we don't get out now before winter really hits, I guess there will be three of us come April.”

  He paused to let her digest the words. “Is that what you were thinking about?”

  “My life has turned so upside down.” She placed a hand on her abdomen. “So you really want this baby? I hope so. I don't.”

  It wasn’t lost on Harry that this was the first time she’d referred to the life inside her as a baby, but he didn’t point it out.

  She continued. “Can I trust that you’ll keep your side of the bargain? I don't want my parents to know. I'll just give you the baby and I'll disappear. No one has to know.

  This sounded too simplistic and he had a blank reaction.

  “Except the lawyers,” she added.

  Relieved at the suggestion of seriousness, he responded. “Yes Zoe, for as much as you don’t, I very much do want this child. I’ve already accepted this child into my life.” He stood straight and his tone was quite serious. “Trust me, nothing can change my mind.”

  Zoe looked relieved. He felt content that his words had this affect.

  #

  Zoe stared at Harry. Playing into him had created an illusion behind which she felt safe. He’s so overbearing, she thought. Still, there’s a likable side.

  #

  Harry spent the next day using his axe to chop firewood, accumulating a good supply. He also constructed a crude door to the cave. From the buck's hide, he made—admittedly—two small blankets and a simple sack to carry food.

  Then she borrowed the axe so she could chop off the twigs from a long branch she found. She cleaned up the branch, removing the twigs to make it into a nice smooth pole. He hadn’t cared that she was off working on this project of hers, but she didn’t say anything about it.

  He glanced a few times at the pole as he stacked firewood. Harry made sure Zoe saw him looking, but still she said nothing—offering only a smile. She toyed with him, dangling her project before a guy who must direct and approve of everything.

  Finally, he couldn’t stand it anymore. “So, what’s that going to be?”

  “A clothes line.” She eyed it critically. “I’m going to put it between those two trees. Their crotches—you know where the trunk splits into two branches—are just the right height. I’ll just lay the pole in horizontally and hang the hides from it. It’ll help air them out.”

  “We need to stretch the hides, but a good idea.” Damn good one.

  “Glad you approve, captain.” She shook her head ever so slightly before she swung hard, whacking off the last twig and causing him to jump.

  “Sorry,” said Zoe. “Wanted to make my last whack count.”

  When the evening came, Harry sat around the fire. Zoe, who had still been outside putting notches in her pole, entered. She took off her coat and warmed her hands over the fire.

  He frowned. “Where’s the axe?”

  “Outside.”

  He glanced at the bare spot against the cave wall and then back at her. He hoped she’d figured it out, but she didn’t. “The axe goes in its corner. It shouldn’t just be left outside.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, it—it might rain. It just goes in its corner.”

  Harry reflected on the words of his grandfather, which were repeated by his father, about the importance of putting tools promptly away. At the same time, he recalled how much it irritated him that his wife would happily leave the vacuum or a scissors exactly where ever she happened to finish using it.

  “Oh, okaaay.”

  She put back on her coat, shoving her arms into it and went out to bring back the axe. She dropped it off in the corner, took off her coat, sat down and started warming her hands again.

  The axe lay on the ground. He canted his eyes back and forth between the axe and Zoe then stood, and sat right back down.

  Zoe cringed, her mouth half open. “Something else wrong?”

  “It’s lying on the ground.”

  “So?”

  “It should be standing up.”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Tools need respect.”

  Zoe opened both of her eyes wide and puffed out her cheeks, eventually breaking into a smile. She laughed. “You’re one of those obsessive compulsive types, aren’t you?”

  He got up and leaned the axe upright. He didn’t even turn around, but simply nodded. She quickly forgot about the axe and while they both ate dinner, began recalling the adventures of Robinson Crusoe.

  “Do you think we might run into any unsavory types? Cannibals or mutineers?”

  Harry cocked his head and looked at her through the corner of his eye. “Even worse.”

  Her gleeful expression evaporated and her eyes widened while Harry drew out the drama as long as he could. “We might encounter a band of lawyers.”

  “Yikes, I don’t think we could - afford - to run into them.”

  He leaned back, thoroughly enjoying her shtick.

  “Oh, wait.” Harry stood. “I'll be back in a few minutes. Just keep eating without me.” He left and returned a few minutes later with two skewers.

  “Those look different.”

  “I made them up earlier. I thought I would surprise you.”

  She appraised the proffered gift. “What's that green stuff?”

  “Don't ask. And don't ask what this stuff is either,” he poked at an opaque, yellow substance. “It's all important.”

  “Listen, I'm going to be a doctor. Tell me.”

  He gave one of the skewers to her. “Oh, don't put it over the fire. You need to eat it raw, otherwise you lose the nutrients.”

  “Okay, okay. I'm eating it.” She sniffed and then bit down with her front teeth, as if testing it. “But what is it?”

  “If you insist. You can't live on meat alone. You need vitamin C, for example, to avoid scurvy.” Harry lifted his own skewer in the air, then re-enforced his words by taking a bite.

  “I know that.” She took another bite herself, engaging her molars this time. “Don't worry, it tastes fine. What is it?”

  “Well, it’s not meat. It’s other parts—raw liver, raw brains, fat, and other ‘tasty’ items.”

  Zoe seemed to force herself to swallow. She inhaled, filling her lungs to capacity, and then stuck her tongue out between her lips and blew out a most offensive sound. “I'd rather suck on a rock. Oh my god!”

  He reached for the closest blanket. “Are you going to throw up?”

  She jumped to her feet. “No, but it just hit me.” She placed her hands together and then opened them as one does before making a revelation. “It's like we’re zombies…eating the brains of the local inhabitants.”

  Harry smiled and gestured for her to sit back down. “Well, be a good zombie, and finish it up. After all, you’re pregnant and need all the fat and brains you can get.”

  “Forgive me if I don't ask for seconds.” She wiped at her mouth. “Damn, I think I’m going to have morning sickness.”

  “You mean evening sickness—gotcha.” He let his chuckle subside. “Anyway, I'll be away tomorrow night scouting, maybe two. You should be fine here.” He glanced over at his gun case. “I don't think I'll take it, less to carry. I'll leave it with you, okay?”

  “Sure. I'll give it a hug if it gets lonely.”

  “Ha, ha. But if a wolf or cougar shows up, you'll be hugging it. I'll leave it loaded.” He stood and fetched it. “Here, let me show you how to fire it.”

  “Do you think I'll really need it?”

  “Unlikely, but better to be ready.”

  He motioned for her to stand. Picking up the gun, he placed it in her arms.

  “The butt goes back against your shoulder.” He adjusted the gun accordingly. “This arm steadies and aims.” Harry gently took her left hand and pla
ced it on the muzzle. “Shoot it with your other,” whereby she lifted her right arm and put her finger on the trigger. “Before you fire, you have to release the safety. Look here.” She leaned her head to the side and watched Harry. “We don't have that much ammunition, so we can't practice actually firing it. All it takes is a squeeze on the trigger.”

  She aimed and it went off.

  Bang! The shot reverberated in the cave. The door had flown open a few inches, and for a moment looked like it would flop down.

  “I said don't shoot it.”

  “What, I can’t hear you.”

  Harry waited for the ringing in his own ears to die down.

  “Don't shoot the gun. We don't have much ammo.”

  She dropped the barrel of the gun. “I didn't mean to. I was just seeing what the trigger felt like.”

  “Didn't your dad ever show you how to use a gun?”

  “No, he’s an attorney. We don't like guns.”

  “Fine. Threaten a wolf with a lawsuit.”

  She sent a look his way. “Well, I am glad that you are leaving it. It's comforting, for lots of reasons.”

  “Lots of reasons?” Harry put the gun back in its case.

  “Well, yeah. There could be a big bad creature that wanders over. Plus it assures me that you are going to come back for me.” She looked down, as if afraid she had revealed too much. “Besides, I can use it for target practice if I'm bored, but I promise not to shoot it. I'll just say ‘bang, bang’ and pretend that I got pretty close. And, it will remind me of you and I'll just feel less alone.”

  “That's a lot of reasons. I think you still don't quite trust me, but you're right young lady, I wouldn't abandon my baby.”

  All expression left her face, her body stiffened. He had meant the gun. She lifted it to hand it to him, looking away while waiting for him to take it.

  “You see in my belly one of your children. I see a bunch of cells still a long way from thinking a thought, and these cells are on the way to screwing up my life.”

  “Having a child isn't bad,” he said while reaching out and touching her stomach. “Just a complication.”

  She pushed his hand away.“ Yeah. Who stayed up late nursing your kids? Who stayed at home tending to their naps, changing diapers, trying to get them to stop crying? You?” She laughed. “I don't think so. I bet you were out building a career.”

  “You have family, don't you? What about your mother, or a sister, or an aunt? They’ll help.”

  “But I have momentum now. I’m top in my class and on my way to Harvard. Everybody sees me as a winner. They’re rooting for me.” She shook her head. “But I know what happens when you have a baby.”

  He put his hand to his chin. “What do you mean?”

  “You hit a brick wall. You lose your momentum. You become someone else.” Zoe kicked a pebble against the wall. “I had a friend that got pregnant. This gal was smart and on her way.” Grinding her foot on the floor, Zoe raised her eyes to meet Harry’s. “Told her mom and her mom almost disowned her. She’s now stuck living at home.”

  Finally, just kicking at the ground, Zoe proclaimed, “I don’t need this.”

  “I don't think it has to be so dark. What about your boyfriend?”

  “He’s not ready to be a dad. He’s still unsure about his major.” She waved her hand in the air, as if batting off a fly. “Oh, it’s easy for him to say that I should have the baby, and he will, but it’s my life that goes to hell.”

  “But I said I would take the baby. It’ll all be okay. You'll keep your promise, won't you?”

  Harry had expected an immediate response, but nonetheless waited. “Yes, I'll keep the promise. I do what I have to.”

  “Good. I still think you are missing something, but I can't find the words.”

  A chill blew through the open door and Harry rose to shut it. “Hey, you sure nailed the door, at least now there's a nice hole for a handle.”

  “Should be, that's where I was aiming.”

  With the door shut, the fire's warmth returned and Zoe sat. “Much better.”

  The thread of their conversation had run thin. Time slowed until almost intolerable. “I'd like to be somewhere else—a break from here.”

  He scratched his beard, which was filling out beyond what he would normally allow. “We can't really go out. It's dark. No moon at all.”

  “I didn't mean that. Tell me a story. How did you meet your wife?”

  #

  Zoe wouldn’t have told this to Harry, but hearing his voice was soothing.

  “My first wife, or second wife?” he asked, settling in closer to the fire.

  “Your first. Tell me about your first love.”

  “Well, I’d need to tell you about my motorcycle then.”

  “I was hoping for high heels, not wheels…but okay.”

  “You should have seen this motorcycle. My dad helped me buy it, used. I was in high school and over the years I built the bike up. By the time I went to college, it roared like a lion and could take a corner as if it were glued to the road. I kept it polished, pretty, you know.”

  From the way he took care of his primitive axe, she could make a good guess.

  “One day I was sitting outside the dorm. It was a beautiful, warm autumn Friday, classes were over, and I was just shootin’ the breeze with the guys. I was telling one fella about how you'd takeoff like a rocket when you hit the throttle. But he had this big grin. I asked him, ‘Do you know what I mean?’ He shook his head and laughed. So I told him, ‘Watch this.’ I strolled down the steps and fired her up. Everyone was watching. It jerked a bit as I positioned it in the center of the road. I yelled, ‘Still don't believe me?’ but I don't think he could hear me over the engine.

  “So I hit the throttle and I shot out. I was gone in under a second and headed around the campus loop. Afterwards, one of the guys told me that everyone watched as I made my way around, down the east road, along the riverfront, and back through the west entrance. They couldn't see me, but they sure could hear. I had almost no muffler—it was a straight-tuned pipe. But when I reached the riverfront, I saw red lights flashing behind me. I flew back fast. When I slammed on my breaks in front of my dorm, I was panicked. I yelled to my friends ‘The cops are coming.’”

  “Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone at the women's dorm. She was motioning for me to follow her. She ran up the steps and opened her dorm's double doors. No time to think about it, I drove up the steps and through those doors. The whole damn building was shaking with my motorcycle running, so I killed the engine.”

  Zoe’s mouth dropped open. “You've got to be kidding.”

  He shushed her. “Just listen. She walked me down the hall and I pushed the cycle, following her. I asked her if we were going to her room, but she said no. We continued down the hall. I started to feel this was a bad, bad idea. Then she stopped and opened a door. I pushed the bike in and she followed. It was a woman's shower.”

  Zoe was excited by the gutsiness of this gal—doing something she would never do, daring and out of bounds. She settled in for the remainder of the story, lying down with her hands behind her head. The fire’s light danced around the cave’s ceiling. Harry had paused. “Go on. I’m good.”

  “There was hardly an inch to move. We didn't make a noise, because the siren approached and then went quiet. The flashing lights shined through a high window in the shower, and they kept flashing. The cops were outside, but she smiled, even started giggling. Man, what a woman.” He leaned his head back, a smile on his own face. “But she jumped when the door handle shook. She called out, ‘Someone's in here.’ The girl outside asked if she would be long. That’s when she reached over and turned on the water. She told the girl she had just started. And there we stood, getting soaked, watching the flashing lights reflect on the bathroom walls.”

  “Wait. I want to see this.” She shut her eyes and concentrated. “What color was your bike?”

  “Red, of course.”
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  “Was she short, medium, or tall?”

  “She was tall, for a girl, and slender.”

  “What color was her hair?”

  “Blonde. She had long blonde hair and blue eyes, just like a movie star. Her hair was dripping. We were both soaked.”

  With a better picture, she motioned him to continue. “Okay, what then?”

  “It was twenty minutes before the campus officers gave up and drove away. Turning the water off, she opened the door quietly, poked her head out and gave me the all clear. I pushed the cycle out into the hall. We were both dripping. When I shut the bathroom door behind me, there was the girl who had rattled the door. She must have been waiting there all along and gazed at us, completely dumbfounded. We laughed, and got the heck out of there.”

  The story brought a smile to her lips. She’d never have guessed it about him, as straight-laced as he was. She ran her eyes from head to toe and tried to imagine Harry all those years ago. Just as with a good romance novel, she was enthralled by the purity of love and it being a safe distance from any reality.

  “Is this really you? So wild?”

  He looked around as if someone else might be listening, leaned over and whispered, “Not really. Turns out the police came by for something else and I wasn't really going that fast, but the loud muffler sure made it seem that way.”

  The fact that Harry was enjoying telling the story was more than evident in his relaxed position. He continued.

  “There's more. I hid the bike in the middle of a bunch of others, which were parked in front of the dorm. Back across the street, my friends were laughing. I walked over to my new friend, who stood in a puddle of water, to tell her thanks. She smiled and darted back inside, shoes squishing with each step.”

  Harry grinned. “And that's how I met Pam.”

  “Your first wife?”

  “First wife and first girlfriend. When we graduated, we married. Those were wonderful years.” Harry ran his fingers through his hair. It struck Zoe that he was making himself presentable for Pam.”

  “Boy, I miss her,” he said.

  She picked up a small rock and walked over to a spot on the far wall that was pretty flat. She began sketching by scraping the small rock against the hard surface of the cave.

  “I'm going to make a tribute to your story. You know, I am an artsy kind of gal. I love to draw.” She drew a guy with big eyes and a determined look. “This is you.”