Page 27

Chapter Twenty-Seven

AVA

S unlight seeped into the hut. The world outside the ripped canvas flap was quiet, even serene. I half expected to walk out to that glorious remote tropical island of Jack’s Hollywood dreams. I knew that wouldn’t be the case, but it was fun to imagine for a moment. One thing was certain, it was much nicer waking to a peaceful rainforest with chittering birds and a fragrant breeze than a brutal storm intent on lashing everything in its path. I pulled on my clothes and boots and stepped into the sunlight. The hot, humid weather had replaced the coolness left behind by the storm. Now I was sure I’d miss that coolness.

I walked straight to the river, so I could give Harold an assessment. The water still raced along violently between its banks, but it had receded at least a foot. Another foot and a slowing of the current, and we would be able to wade across. I’d been working on a plan to get Norm across. He wasn’t a swimmer, so it was paramount that Jack and I stay with him the entire way. His bad ankle made that a necessity, too. Norm could drop his arms around our shoulders and then we could walk cautiously, three across, through the water.

I smelled instant coffee coming from the mess tent. I’d spent the first hour in my cot last night trying to decipher what was happening between Jack and me. I couldn’t deny that I’d felt something lately when we were together, but I was also certain about my theory. It was our strange, unfortunate circumstances. We’d been thrown together in a moment of adversity, and we found that working together was better than constantly bickering. It wouldn’t hold once we were back at the university. Jack would quickly forget what’d happened, and he’d just as quickly remember that he found me a nuisance. And I’d be waiting for his scowls and his complaints. It would be much easier than waiting for him to be kind and instead getting an angry lecture. I refused to get swept in by his temporary charm.

Jack leaned out of the mess tent in shorts and a clean white T-shirt … and his good looks. “Coffee’s ready, if you’re interested,” he said.

I took a deep breath and headed toward the mess tent. “I’d say one more day with that river.”

Jack poured coffee into a tin cup. “That would be my guess, too. I already let Harold know.”

“Oh, then I guess you didn’t need my input.” I wanted to kick myself the second I said it. “Never mind. That came out wrong. I’m glad you let him know.”

Jack sat down at the table with the cups of coffee. “One more day in this tropical paradise.”

I picked up the coffee. “That’s looking on the bright side.”

“I’ve decided to pretend it’s a tropical paradise. Makes the prospect of sitting on this lump of mud for another whole day a little easier.”

I sipped the coffee. Nothing worse than instant coffee made with rain water and sipped from a tin cup. “Can you work your imaginary magic on the coffee and breakfast fare as well?” I closed my eyes to pretend the next sip tasted better. “Boy, do I miss my sister’s coffee.” I opened my eyes. “Aria owns Whisper Cove Café in our hometown. What I wouldn’t give for a slice of cheesy quiche.”

Jack sat back. “Quiche? Bacon or ham?” I could almost see slices of bacon floating in his dark eyes.

“Depends on what they have. Usually bacon with gruyere cheese. And the cheese hangs in little melted strings, and don’t get me started on the buttery crust. Dex is a master crust maker.”

“All right. We have to stop. I’m going to break down in tears if we keep talking about cheesy quiches and buttery crusts. Is Dex the chef in the café?”

“He is and he’s wonderful. He’s also Aria’s boyfriend. Dex is very protective of all of us. He makes the most delicious—” I shook my head. “There I go again. I guess the hunger and the surviving on rehydrated food is getting to me. I think I’ll go and look for some breadfruit. We can chop up the breadfruit and fry it in the skillet like potatoes. Anything is better than that horrid dried food.”

“I’ll go with you,” Jack said.

My face snapped his direction. I hadn’t meant to have such a profound reaction to his suggestion. I supposed yesterday’s moment after finding Buster’s mom had stuck with me.

Jack shrugged. “What am I going to do here? Mow the lawn?”

“It’s fine. I welcome the company.”

“She said between gritted teeth. Look, Lo, you’ve made it clear that you plan to go right back to square one with our relationship when we get back home, so don’t worry about me. I’m just tagging along out of boredom and to climb trees for the choicest fruit if need be.”

I tilted my head at him in annoyance.

“And again, I’ve stepped in it. What did I say this time?”

“I never said I wanted to go back to square one. If I can avoid the grumpy Professor Sinclair for the rest of my life, I’d be very pleased.”

“You say that as if the tension between us was always coming from one side, my side.”

I crossed my arms and looked plainly at him. “On my first day at the university, Brimley called all staff members in for a meet-and-greet and introduction. You stood at the back of the room scrolling through your phone as Brimley introduced me. Everyone else came up afterward to greet me personally and introduce themselves, but you walked out without a word.”

Jack’s chin moved back and forth in thought. “Hmm, probably not my finest moment.”

“But it was your best moment, when it came to me, because at least you left the room without a scowl or snide comment. It really went downhill from there. So, pardon me if I never smiled or wished you a good morning after that. I take that back. One time, I saw you walking down the hallway toward me, and there were no empty classrooms to duck into, so I steeled myself to pass you in the hallway and then, at the last second, I decided to greet you with a cheery ‘good morning,’ and you answered?—”

“‘What’s good about it?’” Jack dropped his head slightly. I supposed it could have been construed as shame, but I was probably giving him too much credit. “If it helps, I did feel a slight twinge of regret afterward.”

I rolled my eyes. “Let’s go and see if we can rustle up some breakfast.”

“Oh, do you think we’ll find a tree that’s growing quiche?”

“Yes, sure, it’ll be right next to the biscuit and gravy shrubs.” I kept walking and realized he had stopped a few paces back. I turned. “Change your mind?”

“No, I’m coming. It’s just I’m feeling a little tight in the chest thinking about biscuits and gravy.”

I laughed. “And you’ve never eaten Dex’s. He uses bacon grease to make the gravy, and his biscuits are even more flaky and buttery than his crusts.”

“Stop, I beg you, stop.”

We stopped by Norm’s hut to check on him and let him know we had big plans for a fruity harvest. He didn’t seem too interested.

Jack had cleared a nice path on our earlier trek to return Buster to his mom. We decided to head that way to check on the pair. We strolled between the fallen branches, ferns and hanging vines. The landscape was alive with creatures of every size, shape and color again. The storm had sent them all scurrying for shelter, and now, like us, they were out enjoying the sunshine. We stopped at the cluster of cecropia trees. Shielding our eyes, we stared up into the branches.

Jack tapped my shoulder and pointed to one of the trees. “There, about a third of the way from the top.”

“There they are. Oh my gosh, I miss Buster, but I’m so glad we reunited him with his mom.” I smiled at him. “I guess no matter what happens when we get back, we’ll always have Buster.”

Jack’s throat moved with a deep swallow as he looked at me. “I don’t want to go back to square one, Lo. If I could erase all my boorish behavior I would. Better yet, if I could find a rational explanation for it, I would. I think—I think—maybe it was—” He shook his head. “Never mind. Let’s go find that breadfruit.”

Usually it was me hurrying off, not wanting to stand in the inexplicable awkwardness of what was taking place between us, but this time it was Jack. I watched him, his broad shoulders tensed as he continued into the trees. We left the unfinished conversation just as it was—unfinished. The discovery of a breadfruit tree helped whisk it out of our minds … at least for now.

We both stood under the tree and stared up at the lowest hanging fruit, which was anything but low. “Could really use a ladder right now,” I said.

“Don’t need a ladder when you’ve got Jack Sprat, the tree-climbing brat.”

I laughed. “Uh, I think the poem had something to do with eating no fat. I don’t remember the tree climbing version.”

“No, but Jack and sprat rhyme so nicely, my brother used it all the time, and the tree-climbing brat part was added on after a summer I spent deciding to climb every tree in the local park. Almost made it too, only the park ranger figured out what I was doing, and he put an end to my mission about three trees from my goal. It was very disappointing falling short by just three trees. And now I’m going to do my nickname proud by picking those two plump breadfruit from the top branches.”

Jack stood back like a pro to examine his options and find the best route up the tree. He reached for the biggest low branch.

“How old were you when you climbed the park trees?” I asked urgently.

“Nine. Why?”

“It’s just that thirty years might have stolen some of your tree climbing ability, and I don’t want to have to give piggyback rides across the river to both you and Norm.”

The big, fleshy green leaves of the tree shook and waved as he hoisted himself up to the first solid branch. He stared down at me through the dark green foliage. “Are you saying I’m old, Lo?”

“I’m saying you’re not nine anymore. At nine I could spin around and around and never get dizzy. Now, in my thirties, if I turn around from the refrigerator too fast, the room spins. Our talents are all relative to this small, somewhat crucial thing called aging .” He moved up to the next branch. “And you’re going anyway, so carry on.”

The breadfruit tree was thick with leaves and probably thirty feet tall. They could grow way past that, so I was thankful that we’d at least found a mid-sized tree. The foliage was so thick, I lost sight of him for a few seconds and was only able to track his movements by the vibration of branches.

“Watch for snakes,” I called up the tree. “They like to climb trees and wait for unsuspecting birds … and university professors.”

Jack’s face suddenly peered between two big leaves. He was a good fifteen feet up. “Thanks for that subtle reminder.”

Branches continued to shake, sometimes violently enough for leaves and small branches to snap off. “You’re about five feet below the fruit if that helps,” I called up to him.

The white of his shirt made him easier to track once he moved out of the thick leaves to some of the farther jutting branches.

“I’m impressed,” I called up to him. I was now looking so forward to breadfruit I decided to cheer him on just to make sure we had fried breadfruit for lunch.

Jack stopped at one point and looked down at the ground. “Oh, wow, I’m high up.”

“That didn’t sound great,” I called up to him. “It wasn’t an ‘Oh wow, I’m high up! How cool.’ It was more of an ‘Oh my gosh, what have I done?’ sort of statement.”

“Good, then my intonation was exactly as I intended. And I just remembered a very important lesson I learned after my tree climbing bonanza at the park.”

“What was that?”

He peered down at me, and I couldn’t help but notice how handsome he looked. “It’s much easier to climb up a tree than to climb down.”

“That doesn’t sound reassuring.”

“It wasn’t meant to sound reassuring. But I will carry on for the good of the village.”

“Pretty small village at this point, but this one villager is already dreaming about pan-fried breadfruit.”

Jack moved to the next branch. He was making more careful and strategic choices now because the consequences of a misstep were much greater. I lost sight of him for a second and then his hand appeared through some leaves near the first breadfruit. With some effort and twisting, he wriggled it free.

I hurried underneath the tree. “Go ahead and toss it down. I’ll try to catch it or at least slow its descent.” The breadfruit fell from the tree, bounced off my hands and rolled across the soft, loamy ground. I picked it up and moved it aside to wait for the second breadfruit.

A sudden jolting movement was followed by a branch snapping in two. Jack’s foot dangled. My heart was racing. “Everything all right?” I asked, warily.

“Just pushed too hard on a weak branch.” He broke free the next breadfruit and dropped it down to me. This time I caught it. I picked up both fruits and moved out from under the tree to watch Jack’s descent.

He moved much slower on the way down, stopping to test branches for sturdiness before putting down his feet.

“You’ve got this, Jack Sprat,” I said. “Only twenty feet more.”

Jack placed his foot on one branch and then immediately withdrew it because it made a cracking sound.

“I see your point about the difference between climbing a tree at nine as opposed to thirty-nine. I weighed about seventy pounds back then, so the branches hardly knew I was there.”

“Take your time. It’s not as if we have anything pressing to get to, except, of course, eating this delicious breadfruit.”

I stepped out of the shade of the trees into a small patch of sunshine. What a difference a day made for the weather. I stooped down to admire a red-bordered stink bug on its journey across the forest floor when a loud cracking sound made me stand upright. A branch shifted abruptly downward. Jack grunted and muttered “Oh man, not good” just before he came plummeting through the branches. He landed on the ground in a balled up position and stayed there, not moving an inch.

“Jack!” I dropped the breadfruit and sprinted toward him, my heart racing and my mind filled with horrifying images of me trying to get him back to camp and then back to the station.

I reached him. He was curled in on himself. I touched him gently on the shoulder. “Jack? Where does it hurt?”

No response.

“Jack?”

He uncurled and threw a bunch of leaves at me. “Jack Sprat is back and in tip-top form!”

“Argh, you bum.” I swung around and swept up a pile of leafy debris, then threw it at him.

It landed on his head and shoulders. “You’ll pay for that, Lo. Big time.” He moved to get up. I squealed and made a run for it but didn’t get far before he dropped a pile of debris on my head. I turned around to retaliate and ran right into his chest. He stumbled back, and I held on instinctively thinking I could keep him from falling. His foot hit a jutting branch, and he fell back. I fell, too, landing directly on top of him.

“Ouch,” he said.

I didn’t move off of him. Our faces were only inches apart. “Thanks for cushioning my fall,” I said quietly. The rambunctious banter had been replaced by something much more subtle.

“Anytime, Lo.” He reached up and pushed a strand of hair off my face. The warmth of his fingertips stayed on my skin after he pulled his hand away.

“Jack,” I said softly. The thought of a kiss lingered heavily in the air above us.

“Ava,” he replied.

Everything about the moment seemed right and entirely wrong. I shook my head and scrambled off him. “No, no, this is silly. This can’t happen.”

I stood up. Jack, on the other hand, crossed his legs at his ankles and crossed his arms behind his head. “That’s your opinion.”

“Seriously, you think something can happen between us? After our history and our present and, I’m sure, our future, you think—” I pointed to him and then back to myself. “Never. It’s ridiculous.”

“Why is that?” He looked annoyingly relaxed, stretched out in front of me.

“First of all, you said it yourself. Brimley would frown upon us—you know—even more than us being adversaries. Secondly?—”

“Yes, waiting for the second thing.”

“Well, you irritate me, that’s what. Just watching you lying there all flippant and arrogant while I’m having a minor meltdown—it’s irritating. I much prefer you high-strung, always looking for the negative side. Far less irritating.” I knew the words were wholly untrue even as I said them.

“I don’t know. I’m thinking about leaving that guy behind for good. Far too little time on earth to spend it filled with anger. And, of course, knowing this side of me is even more annoying to you—sort of makes the whole thing more of a win.”

“See. And that’s it in a nutshell. You look for ways to annoy me, and frankly, I don’t need that in my life. I have a younger sister, and she fulfills that duty just fine. Now, I’m going to take the breadfruit back to camp. You may lie there until you grow fungi or the ants carry you off, whichever you prefer.”

I picked up the breadfruit and marched past him. “Thank you for getting these down,” I said grumpily.

“My pleasure, Lo.”