Chasing the Bear Page 3

  I maneuvered myself downriver, which was the only direction I could go, past the bass boat and in among the exposed roots of a cluster of birch saplings. I tied the boat to one of the saplings and sat listening. Pearl looked at me over her shoulder. What are we doing?

  I put my finger to my lips, though she hadn’t made any noise and I knew she wouldn’t. The woods weren’t quiet. There was the sound of the river and of frogs making frog sounds and birds twittering. But I heard no human sound.

  I gestured to Pearl and she went out of the boat among the root tangle and up the muddy bank as lightly, almost, as the doe had come down to drink, a little ways back. I followed her. I got my feet wet and slipped once on the muddy bank, but in a minute we were both standing in a small clearing among the trees. Pearl began suddenly to sniff near the edge of some brush. Then she darted into the bushes and scrabbled around in there a minute and came out with a dead muskrat, whose neck she had just broken.

  “Lucky you,” I said to her. “Supper.”

  She showed me the muskrat. I nodded and patted her head.

  “Go on,” I said. “Eat it.”

  She looked at me and dropped the dead animal and looked at me and wagged her tail.

  “Go on,” I said.

  She dropped her head and nosed it over onto its back and bit into its belly.

  “Yum,” I said.

  There were some wild blueberries and I ate some while Pearl ate her muskrat. The blueberries weren’t much. But they were better than raw muskrat.

  Chapter 15

  Luke Haden was kind of a legend among the kids, a big shambling unshaven bear of a man with lousy teeth. The town boogeyman. We were all scared of him. He had a bad reputation as a brawler, although he had always stayed clear of my father and my uncles. I never knew what he did for a living. Stole things, mostly, I think. Poached game sometimes. Odd jobs now and then.

  My father said he was “a man who sucked up and bullied down.” Which was probably true. But I was a kid and he scared the hell out of me.

  But I needed to do what I needed to do. So when Pearl finished her muskrat, we started to ease through the woods to see what we could see. I could feel the fear in my stomach and hear it in my breathing. I smelled wood smoke and put my hand on Pearl to make sure she stayed with me.

  We went toward the smoke.

  In a small clearing I could see a fire. Jeannie was sitting on the ground near it, looking at nothing; some sort of lean-to shelter, made of scraps, was set up near the fire. Where was her father? I inched a little closer.

  I smelled something. Something grabbed my arm. I made a little yelping noise that I hoped Jeannie didn’t hear.

  “What are you doing sneaking round here, boy?” Luke Haden said.

  He loomed over me.

  “I’m not doing nothing,” I said.

  The smell was booze. Not just on Luke’s breath. His whole self smelled of it.

  He gave me a heavy shake.

  “You better say more than that, boy,” he said. “Or you are in a world of trouble.”

  “Honest, mister,” I said.

  Luke slapped me across the face and everything hazed for a minute.

  Beside me Pearl made a noise I’d never heard. It wasn’t the hysterical barking/growling sound she’d made with the bear. This was a low growl that seemed to come out of her very center and get stronger as she growled.

  “Wha’s that?” Luke said, and let go of my arm and took a step back.

  The minute he let go, I headed for the woods. Pearl came with me. Behind us I could hear Luke crashing into the woods. But he was fat and drunk. My haze had cleared, and Pearl and I could run like hell. In a minute or so, he gave up.

  Pearl and I went to where we’d left the boat. I wanted to get in it and get off the river and run. But I couldn’t. I looked at the boat. Pearl sat and waited.

  “I can’t run off,” I said to her.

  Chapter 16

  “Why didn’t you paddle to the riverbank and ask for help?”

  “It was pretty empty country south of where I lived.”

  “Still, there must have been towns or a highway or something.”

  “Sometimes.”

  “So why didn’t you try to get help?”

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  “Find a phone someplace and call the police?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Call your father?” Susan said.

  “I don’t know.”

  The trees and grass muted the traffic noise outside the Public Garden. The swan boats glided. The ducks followed. We watched them for a while.

  “You were a boy,” Susan said.

  “Yep.”

  “Up against not only an adult man, but a big, brutish adult male.”

  “Yes.”

  “Because Jeannie was your friend.”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you think you loved her?”

  “No,” I said. “I knew she wasn’t the one.”

  “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.

  Chapter 17

  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.

  Chapter 18

  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.

  Chapter 19

  “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 sometim
es, 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.”