Chasing the Bear (4 page)

“How did you know that?”

“I just knew.”

Susan smiled.

“You seem not to have changed a lot since you were fourteen,” Susan said.

“I’m bigger,” I said.

“True.”

I opened my coat.

“I have a gun,” I said.

“Yes.”

“And I’m with the one.”

“Me too,” she said.

“So, see, I have too changed,” I said.

“If you were in the same situation today,” Susan said, “would you go to the riverbank and call the cops?”

I looked at her. She looked at me.

“Well, now I could kick Luke Haden’s butt,” I said.

“You know as well as I do that you would not go ashore and ask for help,” Susan said.

I shrugged.

“It has to be you,” Susan said.

I shrugged again.

“Do you know why?” she said.

“Ego?” I said.

“Oh, probably some of that, but self-sufficiency comes to mind.”

“Isn’t that sort of like independence?” I said.

Susan smiled.

“I would guess,” she said, “that independence was the result of self-sufficiency.”

“Wow,” I said. “You must have a PhD from Harvard, way you talk.”

“Aw, it’s nothing,” Susan said.

“You think I was born that way?” I said. “Or did I learn it from my family?”

“Nature or nurture?” Susan said.

“Uh-huh.”

“I don’t know,” Susan said.

“You don’t know?” I said.

“Nobody else does either,” Susan said.

“But you have a PhD,” I said.

“From Harvard,” Susan said.

“And you don’t know either?” I said.

“No.”

“Then it must be unknowable,” I said.

“That’s the only explanation,” Susan said.

Pearl
and I slickered around the rim of the island in the rowboat, trying to come at the camp from a different side. When I thought we were about opposite where we had been, I pushed into the bank, tied the boat and we went ashore. It was jet dark in the woods and hard going. I went slow and careful and very low, pulling loose from the thorny vines, scraping myself on branches that stuck up unexpectedly from fallen trees, banging my knee at least once on a rock I didn’t see. Pearl proceeded without difficulty, though I noticed that she let me break trail.

I could smell the campfire, and if I looked up, I could see the glow of it above the tree line. Finally when I figured I was opposite the place where Luke had seen me last, I got down on my stomach and wriggled closer through the brush.

They were there. Jeannie was still sitting on the ground by the fire. Luke was sort of lying down next to her, propped up on his elbow, drinking from a big mason jar of clear moonshine whiskey. On his belt was a great big bowie knife.

“Got as much right to you as she does,” he was saying. “You my flesh and blood, my own flesh and blood.”

“You just want me so Mom can’t have me,” Jeannie said.

“See how she likes it,” he said.

“Likes what?”

“See she likes it,” Luke mumbled.

He was beyond drunk. I looked at the little camp. The lean-to was held up by rope between two trees. The leftover rope lay loosely at the foot of one tree. There was a lot of it. Under the lean-to I could see a blanket roll. He hadn’t bothered to unroll it.

“You sure you don’t know who that kid is?” Luke said.

“I don’t know who he is,” Jeannie said.

“He better not come round here again,” Luke said.

“I want to go home,” Jeannie said.

“Mind your mouth, girl. You think you too big to whup?”

“I hate you,” Jeannie said.

Luke lurched toward her a little and rolled over on his face. He was too drunk to get up.

“Hell with you,” he mumbled, and got himself back up on his elbow and drank some more moonshine.

“Hell with you,” he said. “Hell with you . . .”

Jeannie didn’t speak. She sat with her head down. I waited. In a few minutes Luke began to snore. Jeannie paid no attention to him. I waited a little longer. The snoring persisted. I stood and walked to the edge of the lean-to. Jeannie saw me and her eyes widened. I put my finger to my lips. She didn’t move. I pointed to the blanket roll and then to her and jerked my thumb toward the woods behind me. She nodded and got up quietly. He didn’t stir, just lay on his side snoring, reeking of moonshine. Jeannie picked up the blanket roll and went into the woods behind the lean-to. I cut off the leftover rope with my jackknife and coiled it around my arm and hand and followed her. I didn’t have a plan for the rope. I just thought it might be useful. When we were in the woods, Pearl was sniffing Jeannie and wagging her tail.

“Come on,” I said.

Jeannie nodded and I led the way, being a little less careful and going a little faster than I’d come. I could feel, almost hear, my heart thumping in my chest. Little trills of fear flashed in my stomach and along my arms and legs. I was trying to push down the panic that was washing over me. When we got to where the rowboat was, I helped Jeannie get in. Pearl jumped in after Jeannie. I tossed the coil of rope in and got in after it. With Jeannie in the stern and Pearl in the bow, I paddled us with my broken oar, downstream, away from the island.

I
wanted to go upstream, toward home. But I couldn’t, against the current, with my one broken oar. I’d have to turn us around eventually, but right now panic was chasing me. All I could think of was to get us away from Luke and his bowie knife.

We stayed in the middle of the river, riding the current. Where the treetops didn’t touch, the moonlight showed through and looked really nice reflecting on the surface of the river. It was quiet as it ever gets in the woods. The soft river sound. An occasional frog grunt. Now and then a night bird. And once, I heard a fox bark. Pearl stiffened and pricked her ears and stared at the fox bark for a long time. But no fox appeared and after a while she gave up on it.

“You came after me,” Jeannie said.

“Yep.”

She didn’t say anything. The panic was slowly draining from me as we went downriver. I felt exhausted. And hungry. And thirsty.

“What’s in the blanket roll?” I said.

“Some peanut butter,” Jeannie said. “And some crackers, and I think a few bottles of Coke or something. I don’t know if there’s anything else.”

“Let’s unroll it,” I said. “And see.”

She did. It was the way she’d described it, plus a big box of Oreo cookies. I gave her my jackknife, and she made us a bunch of cracker and peanut butter sandwiches and handed me back my knife. We each drank a Coke with the crackers.

“Where’d you get the knife?” she said.

“My father gave it to me for my eighth birthday. He said it was a handy thing to carry.”

“And you’ve carried it ever since?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Sure.”

“Are you scared?” she said.

“Yes.”

“Me too,” she said. “You don’t seem scared.”

“I’m trying not to let it run me,” I said.

“My father is so awful,” she said.

“Yes,” I said.

“When I said ‘help’ to you in the car, I was thinking maybe you’d get your father or one of your uncles.”

“Wish I had,” I said.

“Why didn’t you?”

“No time,” I said. “If I lost contact with you, I wouldn’t have known where to look.”

She nodded.

“I think you are very brave,” she said.

“I’d feel braver if I wasn’t so scared,” I said.

“Maybe he won’t follow us,” Jeannie said. “Maybe he’ll wake up and find me gone and say to hell with it. Or maybe he won’t even remember I was with him. He forgets stuff a lot.”

“Or maybe he’ll come after us like a bat out of hell. My uncle Cash always says that you can hope for the best, but you need to be ready for the worst, you know?”

“Yes,” she said.

I felt my eyes blink shut for a moment and my head drop. I jerked my head up and opened my eyes.

“We gotta sleep,” I said.

“Okay,” she said.

I worked us over to the shore with my broken oar and pulled the boat into a little cove.

“Can you carry the stuff?” I said.

Jeannie nodded and gathered the blanket roll into a kind of a sack. I bumped the rowboat against the bank. Pearl hopped out and began to sniff around. Jeannie climbed out carrying the blankets and stuff. I tied the rowboat to a bush that hung over the water. Then I climbed out and followed Pearl and Jeannie up the bank. It was dark under the trees. I could hear Pearl snuffling around in the darkness. We were in a small clearing under some high pine trees. I was so tired I could barely stand.

Jeannie took the food from the blankets. I gave Pearl some peanut butter and crackers. Then I took a blanket and gave the other one to Jeannie.

“Will you be able to sleep?” I asked.

“Maybe. What if he comes and spots the boat?” Jeannie said.

I took the rope and strung it about a foot off the ground across the area between us and the river.

“He won’t see this in the dark, maybe trip on it. Might wake us up, or at least Pearl, and maybe we can get away. Right now, I gotta sleep.”

The ground was covered with pine needles. I got rid of a couple of sticks and a rock and lay down with the blanket around me. The blanket didn’t smell so good. But I was too tired to care. Jeannie lay down beside me, and Pearl burrowed between us.

“My father is afraid of dogs,” Jeannie said. “Always was. Says it’s ’cause somebody set their dogs on him when he was a kid.”

“Good,” I said, and fell asleep.

“Do
you happen to have a jackknife on you, as we speak?” Susan said.

I grinned and took a small buck knife out of my pants pocket.

“Surprise, surprise,” Susan said. “Same knife?”

“No,” I said, “but same kind.”

“And has it been useful?”

“Very,” I said. “My father used to trim his nails with his.”

“With a knife?”

“Yeah.”

“Egad,” Susan said.

“What’s wrong with that?” I said.

“I grew up a nice Jewish girl in Swampscott, Massachusetts. I know nothing of the world of bears and buck knives.”

“I’ve done what I can to educate you.”

Susan nodded.

“And I’m grateful,” she said. “So did her father show up in the night?”

“No,” I said. “I slept like we used to sometimes, when we were kids. Close your eyes for a moment at night and open them a second later and it’s morning.”

“I remember,” Susan said.

“When I opened my eyes, I was looking up through the trees and seeing blue sky. There were a few white clouds, and the birds were singing. I didn’t know where I was for a minute. Pearl was sleeping beside me on her back with her feet in the air, and Jeannie was beyond her. And I sat up and looked around and remembered.”

“What did you do about the bathroom?” Susan said.

I smiled.

“I was embarrassed to death thinking about it. But Jeannie just got up and said to me, ‘I have to go to the bathroom,’ and strolled off into the woods. I scooted off in the other direction.”

“Women are generally calmer about such matters,” Susan said.

“I didn’t realize nice Jewish girls from Swampscott even went to the bathroom.”

“We don’t,” Susan said. “But I have a lot of non-Jewish friends.”

“Like me,” I said.

“Especially like you,” she said. “Was she cute?”

“Jeannie?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Hard to describe. I mean, she had long brown hair and even features and her skin was kind of pale and she had nice lips, sort of full. Like yours. But what I remember most about her was this kind of softness she had, gentleness maybe, but affectionate. I bet she grew up to be a passionate woman.”

“Like me,” Susan said.

“Well, maybe not that passionate.”

“So what’d you do?” Susan said.

“We ate some Oreos for breakfast and drank a little of the Coke, and then I climbed a tree and looked around. I couldn’t see anything on the river. I couldn’t see anything inland except more trees. No highways, no towns. No sound of traffic, no church bells, no factory whistles, no sirens, nothing.”

“And you didn’t know where you were,” Susan said.

“Not really. I didn’t know how fast we were going on the river. So, I didn’t know how far downriver we were. I could tell from where the sun came up what direction we were heading. But that aside, I hadn’t a clue.”

“So what did you do?”

I shrugged.

“I decided to keep going until I found a bridge, or a highway or a town or something,” I said.

“Going further away from where you wanted to be.”

“I didn’t know what else to do,” I said.

“Like your father said, you were smart. You knew when not to fight. So you got back in the boat?”

I nodded.

“Back in the boat,” I said.

It
would have been peaceful drifting along on the river, under the trees, if there weren’t somebody after us with a bowie knife. And if we had something besides Oreo cookies for breakfast.

“Do you think he’s still after us?” Jeannie said.

I noticed dark bruises on her wrists. Probably from when her father grabbed her.

“Don’t know that he’s not,” I said.

“He’ll be drunk,” Jeannie said.

“Still?” I said.

“He’s drunk all the time,” Jeannie said. “I don’t think he can stand being him if he’s sober.”

“I wonder how he got to be that way,” I said.

“I used to wonder that too,” Jeannie said. “Now I don’t even care. He’s too awful.”

“Was there ever a time he was nice?” I said.