Forest Cat - Part 2

I'm not saying I ever believed Bess Milton was really a witch. But time distorts memories, and when you're an impressionable child, images imprint on your brain. Did she really look as weird as I remembered in those clothes? And was the expression on her face really that scary? I expected to feel differently when – and if – I saw her again.
            I glanced up at the sky as I left the Ranger Station. Several good hours of daylight remained, but dark fell fast in the mountain forest. The drooping branches of the trees absorbed whatever light trickled down and left the forest floor in shadow most of the day. The air was crisp with cold and moist with snow, the scent of pine was strong.
            I drove away from the Station and up a forest road that eventually passed near the point where the cougar had supposedly been shot. From here on out, I would be on foot and in the snow. I parked my SUV in a pull out just off the road, gathered my gear and headed out. My boots crunched in the snow; birds fluttered and chirped above me in the trees. My cheeks burned with the cold air.

            Using the provided GPS coordinates, I soon found the hunter's blind and a nearby tree stand. I would track the blood trail as far as I could, and then use my compass and map, hopefully to find Bess' cabin.
            Carefully, I studying the trampled snow below the tree stand, and then radiated out in large circles, watching for drops of blood. When I finally stumbled on the blood trail, I followed it and the cougar's tracks through a low area muddied by snowmelt and up into a ravine where huge boulders had tumbled haphazardly into the trees from nearby cliffs.

            The blood trail and the tracks disappeared.
            I checked my compass once again, and then searched, slowly moving in ever larger circles using the nearest trees as the circle’s core. Fifteen minutes passed. I had found nothing;  I was ready to give up.

            Then, I saw a small drop of blood in a snow pile at the base of a tree. Once again, I slogged through drifts in a circular search, using the blood drop as the center, but again, I came up empty. I went back to the tree and looked up. No sign of the animal, but there seemed to be smears of something dark a few yards up on the trunk.

            Had the lioness waited here, assessed her injury, and regained her strength before moving on?
            I unhooked my back pack, hung my mini binoculars around my neck, and climbed the tree.
            From a vantage point twenty feet up, I studied the lay of the land. A rocky stream rippled down the mountain a hundred yards away with a steep bluff on the opposite side. A dark area on the side of the bluff could be a cave. I finished my 360-degree scan of the area, and then went around again, slower.

             Bingo.
            Dead tree limbs had accumulated into a huge, messy pile at the base of the boulder field fifty yards away. Although it looked natural, it sparked my interest. It had all the makings of an expertly constructed brush shelter. I eased down the tree, swung the gun around and loaded a tranquilizer dart. Then I moved.
            Ten steps from the shelter, I stopped and listened. The woods were quiet, too quiet. The very silence of the birds and squirrels betrayed my presence. Whatever was in the shelter was listening, too. Its muscles were bunched, ready to pounce into action.

            Was I ready for the cat to charge out at me? The even more pressing question was, was I

ready to go in after it?

 
The answer to the second question was definitely no. I would be at a disadvantage, crouched down, looking into the dark. It would be immensely better if I could draw the animal out, or at least evoke a response so that I knew what I was dealing with.

            I threw a stick onto the shelter. It thudded against it. Nothing happened. I pitched another stick with the same result. And then I grabbed a rock about the size of my fist. It crashed into the branches, and thudded down inside.

            "Go away." The voice was soft.

            "Bess? Is that you? Are you hurt?" I stepped closer and heard a deep sigh. "I'm coming in. I'm not going to hurt you."

            "Go away."

            "I'm Shea Maroney, from town. There's a wounded cougar in the forest, and I'm trying to find her, to help her. Have you seen her?"

            Leaves rustled inside the shelter and then a few branches moved, revealing an opening. A hand reached out. I grabbed the hand and pulled gently. The woman, small and dressed in dark denims and a jacket, easily moved through the opening but then collapsed on the ground.

            She stared at my face with the same cautious expression I remembered from years ago. Her eyes shifted to the forest behind me. "Help me get to my cabin. It's not far, but my leg ---"

            Blood had soaked her left pant leg, and a tear gaped open revealing a bloody wound.

            For a moment, I was back in elementary school. Here was the witch of the forest with a leg wound, but the hunter had reported wounding a cougar in the leg.

            "What happened?" I ignored the shiver that ran up my spine. Bess was very much a woman, not a cougar.

            "Help me to my cabin."

            I prompted her for more information; what had happened? When? She shook her head. I finally shrugged. "Which way?"

            She tilted her head to the east.

            Together we moved through the trees, around rocks, across streams. Several times, we stopped to rest. What little light there was, dimmed.
(watch for Part 3, the conclusion of "Forest Cat," on Monday, July 1)

Forest Cat - Part 1

(In "Forest Cat," a young veterinarian returns to her home town to work with the local vet. When a wounded cougar is reported in the nearby national forest, she grabs a tranquilizer gun and goes on the hunt. Will she find and treat the wounded animal, or discover that Bess, the Witch of the Forest long feared by local children, actually exists?)

 

 Outside the window of the veterinary hospital, the sun glistened on what remained of the last big snow of a Wyoming spring. The main roads were clear, and so was our parking lot. A few miles away the snow was six inches thick under the trees of the National Forest even though it was nearly June.
            I'd just finished stitching up an injured Labrador retriever when Doc Shiner called me into his office. I glanced in the small mirror by the door, then rubbed the shine off my freckled nose with a tissue before I smoothed my hair and traipsed down the hall to Doc’s office. The sharp smells of disinfectant and the fainter scents of animal pervaded the building. Dogs in the cages out back yipped and barked at each other.
            "Shea, I've had a call from Jim out at the ranger station. Hunter wounded a cougar up by Lost Lake. Animal disappeared into the forest, toward Bess Milton's place. Missy, you're the one with the zoo medicine specialty. Want to go up there with some tranquilizer darts and make sure they don't kill it?"
            "Sure. You got the darts?" My thoughts immediately jumped to a question, Is Bess Milton  -- a.k.a. The Witch of the Forest -- still alive?
            He unlocked the tall gun cabinet next to the window, and then handed me a rifle and a box of tranquilizer darts. "Good luck."
            "Where's Bess live?" We'd all wondered about this as kids, and searched the forest for signs of her cabin with no luck.
            He shrugged. "Show up at the Ranger Station. They'll know."
            I first time I’d seen Bess Milton, I was about eight. Her clothing was a color cacophony, ragged patchwork skirt, faded purple blouse, and scruffy sheep skin vest, finished off with well-worn boots. Her unkempt black hair flew around her head. She looked  like the witch we wanted her to be. Add her outward appearance to stories like the one about the little girl who developed an eye twitch after bumping into Bess in the grocery store, or the cats which went missing just after she’d paid the town a visit, and voila, you had Bess, the Witch of the Forest.  
            By high school, we'd mostly forgotten her. She still came into town for groceries, but we ignored her. If she crossed your path it was considered bad luck to look her in the eye. I tried it a couple of times. My look would meet hers, but she never so much as smiled, and nothing bad ever happened afterward. I had always wondered who she really was, and why she had become a hermit.
            Now, all these years later, I might get to see her again, maybe even see where she lived. Maybe the summer wouldn't be a waste after all.

            Fresh from graduating with my Veterinary Medicine Degree, with a zoo specialty, I'd come back home. I’d had  two zoo job offers, one on each coast, but I had never wanted to live anywhere but here. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a zoo within two hundred miles, and no wild animal parks or private exotic animal refuges, either.
            I took the part-time job offered by Dr. Bill Shiner, the local small animal veterinarian. I had accepted that my future would be mostly spays and neutering, and maybe minor surgeries. Yesterday I had stitched up a German shepherd that had tried to bust through a sliding glass door to go after a cat.

           Not many love prospects here, either. Mostly, the males of my species were mountain men,

 

survivalist types, or loggers. But, like I said, I didn’t want to live anywhere else.

 

            I stopped by the house to get my hiking boots, some thicker jeans and a parka in case this 'hunt' lasted past dark. Almost as an afterthought, I grabbed my backpack. I kept a few emergency medical supplies in there, plus a compass, matches and a signal mirror. I grabbed a couple of energy bars and took to the road in my SUV.
            An hour later, after plowing through a few snow drifts and skidding across a few icy patches, I was at Pine Ranger Station. A lone Jeep with the National Forest Service - USDA logo on the side sat in the cleared parking lot. Sunbeams twinkled on snow piled around the perimeter of the lot.
            A voice crackled over a radio as I opened the door to the building. "No sign of the cat here. Heading west northwest toward Lost Lake. Out." The aroma of strong coffee swirled.
            The forest ranger at the desk looked up as I shut the door. "Help you?" he asked.
            "I'm Shea Maroney.” I pushed my parka hood back and shook out my hair. “Doc Shiner sent me to help with the cougar."
            He squinted at me and the gun slung across my shoulder as he rose from the chair. "You know how to use that, then."
            "I do."
            He stepped around the desk. "Shea Maroney. I remember you."
            I scanned his face, checked out his eyes and his smile. Something registered. "Erick Parsons."
            "Mind like a trap." He grinned. "What in the world are you doing living all the way out here?"
            I'd last seen Erick four years ago, at a party just before we'd graduated with our bachelor's degrees. He’d hardly changed, really, except to get more muscular and tanned.  "I was born here. And I’m temporarily at home with the folks until I can find my own place. And you? A Ranger?"
            "Joined the Park Service. Got on here last winter, full time. My dream job." His grin widened. "Great to see you."
            I remembered that smile, remembered I'd dreamed about going out with him, but he never asked. I shifted my look to the window and the forest beyond. "I'm worried about the wounded cougar. I want to help bring her in. Alive."
            "Did you go on to vet school? I seem to remember you had lots of plans." He wasn't done with Old Home Week.
            I nodded. "Zoo medicine specialty. Lions and tigers, giraffes and elephants. I think I can handle cougars. How far from here was the animal shot?"
            He pointed up at the wall map of the forest. "Five miles or so. Right about here, southwest of the Lake. The hunter reported that he thought he’d hit her in the leg. Cougar disappeared into the brush. Ranger McCreedy met up with the hunter. They followed the blood trail for awhile, but lost it."
            "Female? Maybe it's gone to a den. Could have cubs. Anyone else searching?"
            "Mike from Cedar Station met up with McCreedy to search this morning."
            I studied the map, looked at the roads and the topography, and tried to think like a mountain lion. I'd been all over this part of the forest when I was in high school, but eight years had passed. "Doc mentioned Bess Milton’s place. Does she live around there?"
            Erick Parsons put his finger on the map. "Somewhere west of Lost Lake, a few miles north of where the hunter shot the cougar. You know about Bess?" He grinned.
            "She was already a legend when I was growing up. I’m surprised to hear she’s still alive."
            "We run across her once in a while. I'm worried about how she'll get on with that wounded cat. Calls these wild animals her 'pets.'" He shook his head. "One of them will kill her and that will be the end of that." Erick grimaced.
            I pictured Bess as an older woman wearing even more ragged clothes, and with her unruly hair now mostly gray. Walt Disney's "Snow White" came to mind. I imagined Bess standing in a clearing with birds landing on her shoulders, skunks sniffing her shoes, butterflies playing with her hair. Erick was right. The possibility that a wild creature might kill her was real. I had dealt with wild animals every day during my months as a zoo medicine intern. As tempting as it was to pet their thick, soft fur and stare into their beautiful predator eyes, I had always been aware that lions, bears and wolves thought of me as nothing more than a good meal.
            "I better get going." I grabbed one of the forest trail topo maps from the counter display.
            Erick made a move to grab his jacket, but then checked himself. I knew he shouldn't leave his post, and I didn't want him to. I didn't need help or companionship. I wanted to find the cougar, and in the process, find Bess, the Witch of the Forest.

(Watch for Part 2 coming Friday, June 28)

 

Honeymoon From Hell - Part 4

I pushed away from the sandy ocean bottom with my flippers, looking up toward the surface. My body rose only slightly. I kicked again, but rose only a few feet before sinking back down. My brain screamed for air. My lungs hurt, and my head felt heavy.

The tank weighed me down. I fumbled at the buckles holding the tank to my body, and slipped out of the harness. Then, I kicked hard for the surface as blackness crept around the edges of my vision.

At the surface I gasped air, treading water and trying to clear my head. I located the boat, and swam for it. A crew member met me by the ladder, helped me up over the edge of the boat and onto the deck.

“You hurt, senora?” he asked, as he reached into a storage box for a first aid kit. “Where is your tank?” He asked.

I tried to stop shaking and calm myself. He swabbed my cuts with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol.

I motioned out to the ocean. “Out there, somewhere.”

Where was Matt? Didn’t he wonder where I was?

I collapsed onto a bench, my head spinning. I tried to focus on the waves slapping against the sides of the boat and the gulls, crying as they hovered overhead.

A diver broke the surface and swam toward the boat. As he climbed aboard, I saw that he carried something with him. My air tank.

The crew member carried it over. “Senora, no air,” he said, pointing at the tank’s gauge. “And these weights, too much for you.”

I stared at the weight belt that had been looped around my tank.

“Jennifer!” Matt crawled up the ladder into the boat and then hurried across the deck to me. “I’ve been swimming around down there, looking for you. What happened?” he asked as he took in the cuts on my hands and arm. His weight belt was gone. His face looked worried, but I couldn’t see the same worry deep in his eyes.

“Where’s Sarah?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I was looking for you. Who cares where she is?”

“We were looking at the reef. Something slammed into me, forced me into the reef. The mouthpiece flew out of my mouth. By the time I straightened things out, I was alone down there. And by then, I wasn’t getting any air; my air tank was empty.”

Someone shouted. A diver surfaced and swam for the boat, pulling another diver with him. Several of the crew dove overboard to help bring the man in. As they pulled him over the side, I recognized Ryan. He groaned as they lowered him to the deck.

Matt and I rushed over. The captain held smelling salts under Ryan’s nose; his eyes jerked open and he twisted on the deck.

“Ryan! What happened?” Matt asked, leaning over him. Ryan looked at us in confusion. Suddenly, a dripping wet Sarah pushed her way through the group of people kneeling around her husband. Ryan glanced up at her, then his eyes rolled back and he closed them again.

“Did he hit his head?” Matt asked Sarah.

She pulled back from her husband. “He swam off alone, into the reef. I don’t know what happened.” She folded her arms and stared down at Ryan.

“Probably tried to follow a school of fish into the reef, got stuck and panicked,” Matt said.

My husband’s mouth uttered the words, but they seemed to come from a stranger. I had been attacked and nearly drowned, and now Ryan had nearly drowned, but Matt had no sympathy for either of us.

 I stepped away from the group and eased down onto a bench. What I was thinking wasn’t romantic or loving. It had been Matt’s weight belt wrapped around my tank. We had each bought half a million in travel insurance just before leaving for this trip.

 Was Matt trying to kill me?

 “Oh, Ryan, chill. You both panicked, that’s all.” Sarah rolled her eyes and leaned into my husband in the taxi’s back seat. “Jennifer turned the valve all the way open and the air ran out, and Ryan, you always push your air to the limit. Is this all about getting more attention?”

Ryan rested his head against the window glass. I turned to face the road ahead of us. My head was splitting, and the scratches from the coral stung.

Back at the hotel, Ryan and I took the elevator up and each went to our respective room. I’d had no choice but to leave Matt and Sarah together downstairs. My head pounded, and I no longer had the will to try to keep them apart.

Hours later, when Matt returned to the room, I lay in bed awake in the darkness. I felt the bed move as Matt crawled in. He didn’t reach for me.

My plan had solidified. If my suspicions were right, I had to save myself.

 

At breakfast, I learned our parasailing adventure was set for later that morning. Matt and Sarah had contracted with a vendor on the beach last night after Ryan and I had gone to our rooms.

“I’m not up to it, Babe. Really I’m not,” Ryan said. “Let’s just spend the day at the pool.”

“Are you kidding?” Sarah roared. “When will we ever get to parasail in Acapulco Bay again? I’m going.”

I turned to Matt. “Don’t know that I’m up for it either, honey. I still have a headache. A really bad one.”

Sarah shoved her chair back from the table. “We have to go parasailing. I put down a deposit. Come on.” She stalked away from the table, grabbing Ryan by the arm as she passed him.

I looked at Matt. He and I had hardly spoken since the previous afternoon. The bruises and scratches from my fall into the coral made personal contact painful.

“I’m so sorry about what happened yesterday,” he said, stroking my hair and cheek with one finger. He’d said the same words when we first got out of bed this morning.

He seemed subdued, and concern wrinkled the skin around his eyes. I shifted my look to the window, and the bright blue cloudless sky.

Did he really care about me?

On this beautiful morning, it was hard to imagine he had really tried to kill me yesterday. Maybe it was my jealous streak combined with an overactive imagination.

I was ruining my honeymoon. I had let Sarah take over my emotions. Well, her control of my honeymoon would end today.

We found the vendor waiting for us on the beach, and he led the way to the small dock where his motor boat was tied. His partner waited on the sand, holding the parasail harness.

“Who first? Senora?” he asked, motioning at me.

“No. I’m not doing this; I’m just along for the ride.” Matt looked at me in surprise.

“What? We set this up for you and now you really won’t do it?” Sarah sputtered.

“No, I won’t. My body is already in enough pain. You go. I’ll watch.” I climbed into the boat, picking up a life vest and strapping it on. My body was shaking. I sincerely hoped nothing was going to happen on this adventure, but if it did, I would make sure it didn’t happen to me.

“That’s ridiculous. Okay, Ryan, you go,” Sarah demanded.

Ryan shrugged and followed my lead. “Nope. I’m sitting this one out, too.” He climbed into the boat and sat across from me.

Matt looked from me to Ryan, and then at Sarah. “Well, you know, you were the one who was so hot to do this. You go ahead, and then maybe I will. Ladies first.” He crawled in and sat next to me, his arm carefully circling my neck and gently patting my shoulder. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

Sarah’s eyes were wide. She stared at the driver, and his accomplice on the beach. “Should I? I mean, is it okay?” she stammered.

The Mexican shrugged, “Si, senora, you okay.” His partner helped her put on the harness, and then hooked the parasail line to the back.

Standing on the beach as the boat moved away from the dock, Sarah kept looking at the harness, feeling the thick nylon straps. I watched as the man beside her tapped her shoulder, pointed at the boat and then poised himself to help with her take off. Suddenly the boat motor roared and in an instant, Sarah was airborne, pulled along by the brightly colored sail. Her feet were kicking, and she was gripping the harness tightly above both shoulders. The boat headed out into the bay, making a slow lazy circle. The sail dropped lower, and suddenly, Sarah dropped into the bay, screaming.

The boat motor roared as the driver circled back around to where we could see Sarah floating in the water. She wasn’t moving, but her vest was keeping her head above water.

            Matt and Ryan both jumped up, but I grabbed their arms and kicked off my beach shoes as I quickly stood. “I’ll get her. I’m a lifeguard. I’ll need both you guys to pull her into the boat.”

            I dove in and swam to where Sarah floated with eyes closed, feeling the salt water sting on yesterday’s cuts. The boat circled and picked up the sail.

            “Sarah,” I said, slapping her cheeks lightly. “Sarah, you okay? Let’s get you back in the boat.”

            She opened one eye just a slit. “You get back in the boat, bitch,” she hissed. “Matt will rescue me. He won’t admit it, but he still loves me.” Her eyes blazed.

            “I don’t think so. Swim to the boat yourself.” As I turned away Sarah pushed my head under the water.

            I kicked away and surfaced, gasping for a quick breath. Matt and Ryan stared from the boat.

“Didn’t you hear me? She’s trying to drown me!” Sarah screamed.

I shook my head and swam toward the boat. Suddenly, I felt a tugging on my legs, and was pulled under water again. Sarah clawed over me, pushing me down. I kicked away and surfaced.

“Bitch!” she screamed as she lunged at me again.

“Stop it!” I yelled, shoving her away with all of my strength.

She lunged at me again. I slugged her. I’d been told as a lifeguard only to use the technique as a last resort, when a drowning person panicked and was trying to drown the rescuer. In this situation, it was all I could think of. Dazed by the blow, she blinked at me. I got behind her and took hold of her vest, pulling her the five or six yards to the boat.

“Here, you guys take it from here,” I said, moving away from Sarah and from the boat. I tread water as the two men reached over and plucked her from the water. Then I swam back over to the boat and reached up to heft myself over the side.

“Take my hand, honey.” Matt leaned over the side. I reached out for him and then climbed into the boat. He handed me a towel from my beach bag.

As I dried off, Ryan scowled at Sarah. She huddled on the seat, glaring at me.

“Look what you did, bitch!” She pointed down at the red welts that streaked across her upper chest from my finger nails. “Matt, see? She wanted me to drown.”

I laughed. “Ryan and Matt both saw I was trying to save you. Your game’s up. From here on out, stay away from us.” I looked at Matt, hoping to see agreement but not really needing it. If agreement wasn’t there, I had another hotel room waiting for me to move into, and a stand-by flight back to the States this evening.

Matt slipped his arm around me. I turned into him and let him kiss me. The boat driver turned the boat toward the small dock on the beach.
 

“Did you sleep with her?” I asked Matt as we walked together up the sandy beach toward our hotel.

“No! I admit I was flattered when she flirted with me, but I would never cheat on you. I love you! You know me better than that!” He said.

I smiled. “There are a lot of things we don’t know about each other,” I said, remembering all the things I had wondered while I was green-eyed over Sarah. “But we’ve got lots of time to learn.”

 

(Watch for another new story, starting next Monday, June 24. Like what you're reading? Pass it on!)

Honeymoon From Hell - Part 3

The honeymoon dinner party was cut short. Ryan was ready to go back to his Acapulco hotel room with Sarah, and I was shaking so badly from my near fall down the cliff to the small black pool that I could hardly walk. My husband Matt hailed a taxi in front of the restaurant.

“Tell me again what happened?” Sarah asked, stifling a giggle, rolling her eyes and shaking her long mane of hair.

“Something bumped the backs of my knees. I lost my balance,” I explained again. “I nearly fell over the rail. Thank God Matt grabbed me.” I stared at my husband’s old high school flame.

 “I don’t think you would have fallen,” Matt said. “Those two margaritas made you feel off balance. The rail would have stopped you, even if I hadn’t grabbed you.”

My husband didn’t believe me, but someone knew I was telling the truth. Sarah? Had she pushed me?

Ryan glanced at his watch as we walked through the lobby. “It’s early, but I’m turning in. Tomorrow I’ll be up to diving, or maybe parasailing. I can’t waste another day.” He left his wife with Matt and me, outside the hotel bar.

I didn’t feel like another drink.

Giggling, Sarah was now batting her eyes at my husband. “She nearly fell. Someone tried to kill her!” She made fun of me in a squeaky voice.

I had had enough. “I’m going upstairs, Matt. Are you coming?” My voice was ice-tinged. Matt tossed Sarah a stern look and then said goodnight, grabbed my hand and walked with me to the elevator.

“I know that what happened frightened you, but I honestly don’t think whoever bumped you meant for you to go over that rail. You’re acting like someone tried to kill you!”

I chewed on my lip. It did sound a little ridiculous. Who in Acapulco would want me dead? Sarah didn’t like me, but she obviously liked my husband. Would she really try to kill me? I tried to calm down as we rode up the elevator. Maybe it was just this damned jealousy. Sarah was playing with me.

I grabbed Matt and kissed his cheek. “I’m sorry. Maybe I did exaggerate, but it scared me.” I rubbed his arm. “I want to have you to myself for awhile. How about it?” His grin, as I looked up into his eyes, was all the answer I needed.

I woke to see sunlight peeking around all sides of the drapes in the bedroom of our room. The other side of the bed was empty. 9:00! I gasped at the numbers on the clock, and then wondered why Matt had not awakened me. Where was he? Although we had no firm plans for the day, neither one of us had wanted to sleep late, there were too many things to do. Just as I rolled off the bed, the bedroom door opened and Matt stepped in. He smiled sheepishly, pulled off his shirt and went into the bathroom. “Went for a run on the beach. Let me clean up a bit, honey, then we’ll go to breakfast.”

I fell back into the bed, frowning. Running on the beach? Matt had gone running only four or five times since I’d known him, and then only when he was really stressed from work and needed to release tension. We’d been releasing a lot of tension in the bed the last two days, and it didn’t seem likely he’d need a run because of stress. I slipped out of bed, went into the bathroom, and got into the shower with Matt. We lathered each other up, rinsed, then stepped out and dried each other off.

“Hungry?” He asked as he turned to the mirror to shave.

It seemed strange to me that he wasn’t in the mood for love despite having his naked newlywed wife beside him in the small bathroom. I went to dress in the bedroom. What was going on? I thought back to yesterday, when he and Sarah were both gone from the beach, and then the night before when Matt was gone so long, supposedly getting medicine for Ryan. This was the third time he had left me alone on our honeymoon. I thought back to the near-accident at cliff side.

Were Matt and Sarah fooling around? My heart pounded.

When Matt left the bathroom, I went back in, shut and locked the door behind me, and put on my makeup with a shaky hand. I needed time to think. The phone rang. I heard Matt say “hola,” but then his voice dropped and I couldn’t hear anything else. When I opened the bathroom door he had returned the receiver to the cradle and was standing at the window.

“We’re on for scuba diving at 11. You about ready?” Matt stared down at the beach.

“Sure.” Feeling numb, I slipped my feet into sandals and grabbed my beach bag.

Matt slipped up behind me and nuzzled my neck. I stepped away from his embrace. “We’d better get going. I’m hungry,” I said. I really felt far from hungry. My stomach was clenched into a knot.

Like clockwork, Sarah and Ryan left their room as we were leaving ours.

“Feeling better, Buddy?” Matt asked. Ryan still looked pale to me, but he nodded, gave an enthusiastic thumbs-up sign and hugged Sarah. She looked starry-eyed this morning, and for a moment I doubted my earlier thoughts about her and Matt. Then, just as I turned my head, I saw Sarah wink at Matt as a self-satisfied grin shaped her lips. My heart sank. 

I was not excited about scuba diving. Somewhat claustrophobic, the idea of being under tons of water and depending on an oxygen tank for air didn’t sound fun to me. But, I wasn’t yet ready to leave Matt to Sarah’s wiles, even with her husband Ryan along. He seemed too star-struck by his wife to see that she was cheating on him with Matt. Star struck, just like I had been. How could Matt do this? My empty stomach clenched.

As we ate breakfast, the conversation ran on and on about scuba. All three of them had dived before, in fact, Matt was a certified instructor, one more thing I had not known about him. In all fairness though, I wasn’t sure Matt knew I had been a lifeguard at a pool during my college summer breaks.

Matt and Ryan both offered me diving tips and encouragement. I knew I was coming across as nervous, but it was really only a sign of the worry I carried in my heart about Matt and Sarah. Matt knew I was always ready for an adventure and was not scared to do this dive.

Why couldn’t he see that my quietness was a sign that something was wrong?

We checked in at the pier where our scuba outfitter docked and then made our way down to the boat, joining a group of other people waiting to walk up the gang plank and onto the thirty-foot boat.

“Ready for this?” Matt asked.

I shrugged. Now that I was watching closely, I had detected signals between Matt and Sarah, casual glances, bold winks, even touches. No one seemed to notice how unusually quiet I was.

We got in line with the other passengers to get our tanks, masks and fins. The crew members spoke Spanish to one another but seemed to know little English. When the dive captain began to give the dive rules, I realized I was the only novice on board. The others were either experienced or had been certified by spending a few hours in a hotel swimming pool prior to this dive.

“You didn’t tell me I had to be certified,” I complained to Matt.

He slipped an arm around my shoulders and hugged me. “You don’t need to be certified. You’ve got three experienced divers with you, and it’s easy. I’ll go over everything before we go in the water.” He showed me how to strap on the vest and the oxygen tank and how to use the regulator mouthpiece.

“Always exhale into the unit first. That way you can be certain you won’t be breathing in any water,” he explained. He showed me the gauge that indicated how much oxygen there was in my tank, and how to monitor the level during the dive.

“Normal breathing, that’s the key. Slow, normal breaths, in and out through the mouth, just like you would if your nose was stopped up, okay?” He turned a knob on the oxygen tank. “Try it.”

I breathed in the oxygen, tasting the sweet air. This wasn’t so bad. I grinned and motioned with the thumbs-up sign. Matt smiled his biggest smile at me, and suddenly I wanted more than anything to know that he was mine, only mine.

“In diving, thumbs up means you are ready to go to the surface, so only use that below if you need to go up.” He demonstrated the “okay” hand sign, and the underwater sign for “no air!” He was careful in his explanations and an excellent teacher. My heart ached. I was so in love with this man. And I was sick of Sarah ruining our honeymoon! She even had me believing that Matt was cheating on me!

I rubbed Matt’s back and stayed close beside him as we waited for our turn to flop over the side. Matt kept giving me pointers and I kept asking questions, always touching his shoulder or his arm. Behind us, Sarah kept trying to interrupt and talk to Matt, but I gave her no opportunity. Matt fidgeted with the buckle of the weight belt he had brought, and then helped me adjust the one the dive crew had loaned to me.

When it was our turn to go over the side I followed Matt’s cue and jumped in feet first. We swam out a little way from the boat, kicking with our flippers as we adjusted our masks and inserted our regulator mouthpieces.

“Ready?” he asked. After I nodded, he put his face into the water and then dove.

I made myself breathe as I put my face mask in the water and dove after him. My heart pounded and adrenaline rushed. It didn’t seem like I was getting enough air, but I thrust the feeling aside as being nerves.

Matt dove deeper, turning back to me and motioning for me to follow. I didn’t want to go down. My heart pounded and I couldn’t slow my breathing. I seemed to be getting less and less air and the deeper and slower I breathed, the harder it was to breathe. Panic took over and I kicked for the surface, jerked the mouthpiece out and swallowed deep breaths of air. I pushed the face mask up on my forehead.

Matt surfaced beside me. “What’s up?” He sounded irritated.

“I’m not getting enough air. Can’t breathe.” He floated around to check the tank controls.

“The valve is in the correct position. Just calm down and get your mask back on.”

I pulled my mask back on and inserted the mouthpiece as Matt dove down again. I put my face in the water. Matt was waiting a few feet down. He motioned for me to follow. Beyond him, I could see the reef where the filtered light illuminated yellow and blue striped fish. Two divers were inspecting the reef; I recognized Sarah’s skimpy swimsuit.

Determined to make this dive, I sucked air in again as I kicked downward. I wanted to catch Matt before he reached Sarah, who had turned to watch. I kept breathing and gradually the panic subsided. I tried not to think about the water pressing in around me. I kicked downward and followed Matt toward the coral reef.

Once we reached the reef, Matt began a slow inspection of the formation, gradually moving away from me, intent on his own investigation. Sarah tapped on my arm and motioned for me to come with her. After glancing once more at Matt, who was engrossed in a branch of coral, I followed Sarah. She swam on, pointing out brightly colored fish darting in and out of the coral branches. Then her look scanned the ocean around us and she motioned for me to come closer, pointing at something in the coral. As I drew closer, I saw an anemone wave its tentacles to lure a small fish near. Then the anemone’s tentacles snapped closed over the fish.

I felt a jolt, and my body smashed into the coral, tearing the skin on my arms and forehead. The regulator ripped from my mouth and sand rose in a cloud around me. I grabbed the mouthpiece and tried not to think about the blood drifting away from my arms and head.

Blood drew sharks. Were there any within range?

Once I had the regulator in my mouth again, I looked around, expecting to see Sarah and whoever had knocked into me, but I was alone. Angry, I adjusted the fit of the regulator and breathed in. No air.

I adjusted the regulator again and reached behind me for the valve, turning it back and forth, sucking for air. I grabbed the tank gauge. The oxygen level was zero.

 

(Watch for Part 4 this Friday, June 21, 2013)

Honeymoon From Hell - Part 2

I wanted to ask what had taken so long, but his skin was hot and his breath quick. He was as eager to get into bed as I was to have him here with me. We made incredible love until we were both so exhausted we fell asleep in each other’s arms.

The next morning I finally had a chance to ask him what had happened the night before. “So, did you have trouble finding Sarah last night?”

“We had to get the night manager to open the gift shop so we could get some medicine for Ryan. Sorry it took so long. But it was worth the wait, wasn’t it?”

There was no denying that.

We stepped into the hallway and passed Sarah and Ryan’s doorway just as it opened. Sarah’s hair was twisted up and clipped, and she wore a skimpy white halter top and low cut short-shorts.

 “Hey,” she said. Her eyes were on my husband.

“How’s Ryan?” I asked.

“He’s exhausted from all that time in the bathroom. I hope he’ll recover fast. What’re you kids up to?” She winked at Matt.

“No plans beyond breakfast. Maybe a walk on the beach?” Matt looked at me for agreement, and I felt my insides melt. As far as I was concerned, we could spend the whole day in bed. I wanted him to myself every second. I should have said what I felt, but I just nodded and smiled. “You want to join us, Sarah?” he asked.

My heart sank. The last thing I wanted was to have Sarah in tow for the day.        

“Sure!” she cried. “Let me grab my bag. Ryan can rest all day.” She ducked back into the room.

“She was my sister’s best friend. I’ve got to be nice!” Matt whispered when he saw the pout on my face.

Sarah rejoined us in the hallway.

After an amazing breakfast of fruit and eggs, the three of us walked along the beach, Sarah on Matt’s left side with her arm hooked through his and me on his right holding his hand. The two of them talked about high school people and places they had gone together. I was the third wheel. Matt squeezed my hand and spoke directly to me sometimes, but it didn’t help. By lunch, I was fuming. I was sick of the way she flirted with Matt and ignored me.

She was ruining my honeymoon!

“So, what about this afternoon? Want to rent a jeep and find a beach somewhere away from the crowd?” Sarah asked, nodding at the people-filled lounge chairs beside the hotel’s swimming pool and then pointing beyond the row of palm trees toward a long stretch of relatively deserted beach behind the hotel.

I shot Matt a warning look. We had already talked about finding a secluded little beach where we could skinny dip and make love.

Sarah intercepted the look. “Oh, come on, Jennifer. Don’t be a spoil sport, it will be fun!” She tugged on Matt’s left hand, pulling him over to the kiosk that advertised rental services, including Jeeps.

I felt the blood rising up to my face, but Matt didn’t notice. Soon we were driving out of town on a coastal road. We passed a few beach areas, and then finally spotted a promising road that led off through some trees. Matt turned off the main road and we bumped along until we came to a beautiful crescent moon beach, completely empty.

“Perfect!” Sarah shouted. She leapt from the jeep, kicked off her shoes, grabbed her bag, and ran toward the water. I gathered my things, stepped from the car and then stopped. Piles of Sarah’s clothes formed a line from the jeep to the beach, where she had dropped them as she ran. Now she was splashing in about three feet of water, nude.

Matt leaned against the front fender, staring. I stepped in front of my husband to block the view and he grinned at me. “She’s always been like that. No shame. But then, she doesn’t have much to be ashamed of, does she?” He stretched to look around me at Sarah, who had left the water and was spreading her towel on the beach.

“Matt, look at me, and listen to what I’m saying.” He looked. “It’s our honeymoon! I want us to be doing these things alone, not with Sarah. I want your attention. This isn’t how I’d pictured us today.”

Matt smiled patiently. “Think about Sarah for a minute. Ryan’s back at the hotel sick. What fun would she be having if she wasn’t able to go out with us? Ryan will be better tomorrow. We’ll have six more days to ourselves. What’s one afternoon?”

His argument made sense, but I hated having his old girlfriend naked with us on a secluded beach. I scowled. He led the way down the beach from Sarah, who had stretched out, face up, on the towel. She had no tan lines but was golden bronze all over. I averted my eyes, then squeezed Matt’s hand and hurried past her and on down the beach.

After we had spread out our towels and pulled off shorts and shirts to uncover our swim suits, Matt chased me out into the ocean. We splashed and grabbed at one another until we were breathless. As we sloshed back up to the beach, hand in hand, Sarah watched us, her head propped on one arm, still naked, smiling. We lay down on our towels, and I scooted close to Matt, kissing him on his cheeks and his forehead and finally on his lips.

“If we were alone I would pull off those trunks and have my way with you,” I whispered.

“You’d have to beat me to it. Let’s see, how does this work?” He reached behind me to unhook my top and I gasped.

“Matt! Not with Sarah here!”

“Like she’s going to care.” He bent over to kiss my breast.

“No. Please?” I buried my face in the crook of his neck, forcing his head up. He sighed, and then rearranged and re-hooked my swim suit top.

“Okay. Later, then.” He ran his hands over my hair and smiled into my face before he lay down, facing me, his back to Sarah.

I lay next to him, content to watch his sparking eyes. Exhausted from our playtime in the water and warmed by the afternoon sun, I fell asleep.

When I woke, Matt was no longer beside me. I sat up, shielded my eyes against the sun, and looked for him. The beach was empty. I hugged my knees to my chest and peered out into the water. The ocean waves rolled to the beach and broke apart into little white-edged fingers. No Matt or Sarah.

I told myself not to be jealous. There was a good explanation. I couldn’t let myself think this way. I needed to trust Matt. I’d just married him, hadn’t I? I waded out into the water, and then turned to scan the beach, the shoreline and the tree line. In the distance, a figure came around the trees near where the jeep was parked. Matt.

“Ready to go? Sarah’s in the Jeep, worried about Ryan, I think,” he called as I walked up the beach toward him.

We gathered up our things and returned to the Jeep. Sarah sat fully dressed in the back seat, the fingers of her left hand playing with a lock of her long hair.

She didn’t speak until we got back to the jeep rental place. “I’m going to run on back to Ryan. I’ll make reservations for dinner.” She sauntered away.

I turned to Matt. “She’s making our dinner reservations? Where? Can’t we eat by ourselves?” I huffed.

“The cliff divers. She’s hoping that Ryan will be up to it, but it usually takes a couple of days to get over the crud down here.”

 “Have you had this intestinal thing before?” I could swear that Matt had said this was his first trip outside the United States.

He shrugged. “Short trip, years ago. Not much to remember except for getting sick.” He paid the rental shop clerk, then grabbed up my hand to pull me along as he headed for the hotel.

I was certain he had told me he had never before left the country. Who had he been with? I had a feeling it might have been a graduation trip, and his date might have been Sarah. A jealous flush rushed to my face.

We went back to our room in the hotel, showered, then made love and napped. The phone woke us about 6 o’clock.

“Hola,” Matt said into the phone. “Si. Bien. Si.” He winked at me. “Vale. Donde? Vale.” He hung up and snuggled back down next to me.

“That was Sarah. Ryan is better. Probably won’t eat much, but he wants to see the divers. Our reservations are for 7:30.”

“I didn’t know you spoke Spanish,” I said, stroking the hair on his temples.

Matt grinned. “That’s the full extent of my vocabulary. The only other word I know is cerveza for beer.” He wrapped me in a bear hug. We snuggled for a few minutes and then he broke away to take another shower.

For the first time, I wondered how well I really knew this man I had married. He had lived for thirty years, and I had known him for four months. There was a difference of four years in our ages, but when we met it had seemed that both of us were at the same place emotionally and ready to commit to one person. I had never felt so in love with anyone but there was a lifetime of things about him that I didn’t know.

 We dined on a torch-lit patio overlooking the Pacific Ocean. A mariachi band moved among the tables, playing romantic Spanish ballads. Ryan still looked pale. Sarah flirted with the band members when they came to serenade our table. She downed one margarita after another.

The time came for the divers’ performance and colored lights played on the cliffs across the small inlet from where we sat. We rose from our tables and crowded around the safety railing so that we could see down into the chasm between the cliffs, where the divers would drop. We watched, holding our breaths as the men propelled themselves one by one off the edge of the cliff and down into the chasm toward a small, deep pool.

I stood on tiptoe, leaning over the railing to better see the water far below. Something shoved against the back of my knees and my legs buckled, causing me to lose my balance and begin to fall forward over the rail. I gasped.

“Jennifer!” Matt’s strong arms grabbed me. “Whoa, honey. If you want to learn to dive, I’ll get you some lessons!” he joked.

My heart pounded. I looked around. Sarah’s eyes were wide and innocent; Ryan was looking back toward our dinner table. I couldn’t stop shaking. Thank goodness Matt had been right beside me.

Had someone really tried to push me over the cliff?

(Watch for Part 3 on June 19 and the final part on June 21, 2013)