Jen's Legacy.
Some things were still needed.

“If you want to wash yourself in the river here, I’ll turn my back. You don’t have to go far out into it. It’s up to you. Then we’ll head out. It will be a tough scramble until we get on to the top.”

She should wash, at least, and show that she was wasn’t entirely paralyzed by fear. She took off her shirt and shorts, dropping them by the fire, knowing that he watched her do even that simple act, always curious about her in some way now, unable not to watch her.

She walked into the river, out as far as he had been and dropped to her knees in the sand, before sitting down in the water, taking off the lower half of her swimsuit as she sat with the water up to her waist (he had been right about making it easier for her), able to tolerate the cold for a few seconds as she rinsed them out and washed herself, always afraid of offending others by those awkward female smells, before pulling them back on, taking care not to get sand caught up in them.

She didn’t bother to see where he was or what he was doing. She knew he would be watching her, and she even expected it. He needed her in some way; needed to see her, to know where she was, almost as much as she needed to know where he was, but for different reasons.

Something had happened between them, but she didn’t want to believe it could be happening so quickly.

She did the same with her top, taking it down on herself, keeping her back to where he was, washing her upper body; her breasts, and under her arms before pulling it up again, returning to the fire to let them dry better on her, before she put on her shirt and shorts once more.

It would be uncomfortable, dressed in that swimsuit today and walking in it, but it would be safer than not wearing it.

He was looking at her very differently now, as though he were seeing a different person. He had also watched her bathe, just as she had watched him. Unable not to watch. Had he photographed her as she had, him?

He took a deep breath.

“About earlier, as I came out of the river… the way I was. I apologize if I offended you by forgetting like that, and for last night when I held you close and… I think I may have talked in my sleep and said certain things. Please try to forgive me.”

He had kissed her too, but she said nothing of that.

“I thought you were someone else.” He was still trying to apologize for that; for calling her, ‘Jen’.

There was nothing she needed to say. His demeanor told her that none of it had been planned or intended.

She just smiled at him. He had been more embarrassed than she had been, though how that could be possible she wasn’t sure.

She looked at her watch, squinting to see it, relieved to see that it was still going despite the wetting it had got. The sun was not getting to them yet, but it was still early, just after sun-up, but where they were, the sun wouldn’t get to them for another hour or two, and she could see it slowly climbing down the canyon walls, setting trails of water vapor climbing up the rocks, just as the two of them would soon be climbing up them; a prospect that had her concerned.

He sat, wiped off the bottom of his feet, pulled on his socks and then his boots, before putting on his shirt.

“I think that was the best sleep I’ve had for the last few months. How did you sleep?” He was recovering, and repeating himself in his nervousness.

“I think I slept okay.” She had, once she’d climbed into the sleeping bag with him, and apart from a few shocks each time he had moved and helped her move with him. “But not for some time. You were very warm.”

“Let me show you our proposed course for today.”He sat with her as he indicated on the map where they would be going. She didn’t feel uncomfortable with his closeness now, even as they sat close enough to touch, and to feel each other’s warmth. They’d been closer as they’d slept. She wanted to hold his arm close to her, hug it, but knew that she shouldn’t. It was still too soon.

“Once we get up here”—he tapped his map to show her where— “we’ll rest for a while, then take it easy for the first hour or two until I see how you are managing.”

He was back in control of himself now.

“There’s not much water up there so we may have to come down to the river again where we can, but we won’t get to the crossing where your companions spent last night, until tonight, and maybe not until tomorrow, Wednesday. Today is Tuesday, I think.”

He didn’t seem to know for sure what day it was, and didn’t care. Time didn’t matter out here, other than seasonally.

“We won’t be likely to see anyone either, but if you want to attract attention from any of the touristy flights, or any rescue planes or choppers, then your best bet is to use a mirror, which I don’t have, or…”

She interrupted. “...Wave my lifejacket around my head, but don’t bother shouting?”

She smiled at him, not sure how she could smile after all of the shocks she’d had, especially that last one. She had never seen a man like that before, nor so up-close and personal. It had been shocking, and very sobering, and likely would make any woman nervous, not knowing….

He remembered telling her that about her lifejacket, but he was still embarrassed about his earlier mistake, so was repeating himself again.

Why was he nervous? She should be the nervous one— “and I’ll wave my shirt too; that way, you can be picked up sooner.”

He folded his map. “We have some miles to cover today so we need to get started. It will take us at least an hour, more likely two, of difficult scrambling, and some climbing to get up there,”—he pointed— “but I’ll have you on this rope for that, and then we’ll feel the full blast of the sun once we get near the top.

“If we have to, we’ll come back down to the river for the night again. It gets cold of a night up there, though it’s not much better down here, close to the river.”

It had been warm enough in that sleeping bag with him and at least she might relax better the next time, having learned even more about him, and that she was relatively safe with him even if he did shock her from time to time.

He helped her on with her life-jacket and clipped it for her.

Before they left, he put his fire out, and took a stick to scrawl a message in a clear area of sand to let anyone who walked anywhere near this place looking for her, understand what he’d done and where they were.

“What’s today’s date?”

She told him, and he scrawled a brief message for anyone who stumbled over this small beach where both of their lives had changed.

Tues. 17 Sept. Claire, SAFE.

Walking to Culver. ETA 22 Sept.

Royce Healey.

Brief, and to the point.

He’d added a couple of days to their ETA in Culver to allow for unforeseen difficulties.

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