until they were out of sight then climbed back into his boat. He reached for a paddle to push himself off, but there wasn’t one. The boys had taken them out earlier, and put them in Joyce’s canoe by mistake. He got out and dragged the boat down the shore a few yards until he reached a point deep enough to allow it to float free while he climbed in. He leaned far out over the edge to push the boat away from shore. The canoe hung sideways for a moment before the light current caught it and swung the back end out behind the front and he started floating slowly away from the falls, alone in his boat in the middle of the water.
He decided to kick back and enjoy the trip, intent on not letting it get to him. He felt silly for having feared the men, and regretted letting Joyce use his stubbornness to get the upper hand. He'd just drift along here for a couple of hours while she dealt with the boys. He had the sweet end of this deal when you thought about it, though he did wonder if Joyce knew she had the paddles. She must not, he decided. No matter how mad she was, she would stop and wait for him, wouldn't she?
A few people passed by in canoes, none of them paying his paddle-less state any mind. He passed a couple fishing from a boat near the shore. He waved silently; they nodded in reply. Just past them, around a bend, he came upon one of the rapids. He went to the middle of the boat, sat low in the seat, and gripped the edges of the boat tightly. Without a paddle, he had only his body with which to guide the canoe. The bottom of the boat hit a rock and it spun the canoe around backward and toward a mud bank. The boat struck flat, but Paul kept the boat erect by shifting his weight to counter the tilt of the canoe. It soon righted itself and continued the lazy float downstream, dirt dislodged from the bank now scattered along the boat's floor. That was kind of fun, he thought.
He leaned back, shielding his eyes from the sun with a forearm across his head. He must have dozed for a while, because he began to dream about the falls, the men and Joyce talking. He realized he actually was hearing voices, and sat up. He hoped they had stopped somewhere for a break. Of course, he now had to contend with the story the men surely were telling Joyce about the night before, knowing Joyce would add it to the list of his supposed transgressions. No matter. He would suck it up, would rejoin them and at least try to end the weekend right. Making things right back at home was something else all together. Joyce was convinced he'd been unfaithful, seemed determined to force him to admit it whether it was true or not. His marriage was more troubled than he had imagined, more trouble than a camping trip could wash away.
As he came around a corner, really a sharp bend in the river, he saw them, Joyce and two of the men, Leroy and Dave, he thought, standing on a sandbar for a mid-afternoon snack of granola and bottled water. Beyond them, Carl and Mike stood with Eric and Charlie on large rocks a few feet off the bar, showing the boys how to operate the casting mechanism on their fishing poles. The men were faced away from the river, but Joyce saw Paul and began pointing. Carl and Mike turned, then the others. Joyce started waving her arms, and Paul waved back. Her look was familiar; even from here he could tell she was mad; I'm not waving at you, she seemed to be saying. He looked up at the river and saw what she was signaling -- he was headed for another quick bend that caused the river to rush rapids-like over some rocks and the trunks of downed trees toward the bank. A large tree, recently felled as the soil around its roots gave way, hung almost perpendicular to the water. An unsteered canoe would follow the rushing river toward the bank, bounce off and carom into the branches of the tree.
"I'll be OK," he shouted into the wind, then moved to the center of the canoe and lowered himself as much as possible to give the boat a solid center of
He decided to kick back and enjoy the trip, intent on not letting it get to him. He felt silly for having feared the men, and regretted letting Joyce use his stubbornness to get the upper hand. He'd just drift along here for a couple of hours while she dealt with the boys. He had the sweet end of this deal when you thought about it, though he did wonder if Joyce knew she had the paddles. She must not, he decided. No matter how mad she was, she would stop and wait for him, wouldn't she?
A few people passed by in canoes, none of them paying his paddle-less state any mind. He passed a couple fishing from a boat near the shore. He waved silently; they nodded in reply. Just past them, around a bend, he came upon one of the rapids. He went to the middle of the boat, sat low in the seat, and gripped the edges of the boat tightly. Without a paddle, he had only his body with which to guide the canoe. The bottom of the boat hit a rock and it spun the canoe around backward and toward a mud bank. The boat struck flat, but Paul kept the boat erect by shifting his weight to counter the tilt of the canoe. It soon righted itself and continued the lazy float downstream, dirt dislodged from the bank now scattered along the boat's floor. That was kind of fun, he thought.
He leaned back, shielding his eyes from the sun with a forearm across his head. He must have dozed for a while, because he began to dream about the falls, the men and Joyce talking. He realized he actually was hearing voices, and sat up. He hoped they had stopped somewhere for a break. Of course, he now had to contend with the story the men surely were telling Joyce about the night before, knowing Joyce would add it to the list of his supposed transgressions. No matter. He would suck it up, would rejoin them and at least try to end the weekend right. Making things right back at home was something else all together. Joyce was convinced he'd been unfaithful, seemed determined to force him to admit it whether it was true or not. His marriage was more troubled than he had imagined, more trouble than a camping trip could wash away.
As he came around a corner, really a sharp bend in the river, he saw them, Joyce and two of the men, Leroy and Dave, he thought, standing on a sandbar for a mid-afternoon snack of granola and bottled water. Beyond them, Carl and Mike stood with Eric and Charlie on large rocks a few feet off the bar, showing the boys how to operate the casting mechanism on their fishing poles. The men were faced away from the river, but Joyce saw Paul and began pointing. Carl and Mike turned, then the others. Joyce started waving her arms, and Paul waved back. Her look was familiar; even from here he could tell she was mad; I'm not waving at you, she seemed to be saying. He looked up at the river and saw what she was signaling -- he was headed for another quick bend that caused the river to rush rapids-like over some rocks and the trunks of downed trees toward the bank. A large tree, recently felled as the soil around its roots gave way, hung almost perpendicular to the water. An unsteered canoe would follow the rushing river toward the bank, bounce off and carom into the branches of the tree.
"I'll be OK," he shouted into the wind, then moved to the center of the canoe and lowered himself as much as possible to give the boat a solid center of
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