a reason to live(26)

“There are three main parts to a raft. The floor, the thick outer tube, which you sit—” He paused and mumbled, “Christ,” for some odd reason, then cleared his throat and continued. “And the thwarts that run across the raft for stability and balance.” Shane then pointed to an inflatable brace running crossways on the raft. “There are three thwarts on the bigger rafts Gregor owns. You use them to secure your feet so you don’t fly out of the boat during rough rapids.”

“Got it. They secure my feet so I don’t fly out . . . But what if I do?”

“Nose and toes out of the water,” he answered.

“Umm. Can you be more specific?”

“Yeah, we’ll practice in a bit. First, get in the raft and I’ll launch us from the bank so I can work with you on your form.”

Following his instructions, I reached out and took his hand so he could help me into the raft. Then he shoved off from the bank and settled in across from me.

“Normally, I would put you in front and myself in the back as the rudder, but I want you within reaching distance. Now, there are only a few calls that are given when rafting with a group: forward, back, all forward, high side, and if we need to turn around, then one side is told to paddle forward while the other side paddles backward.

“Got it.”

“Plant your right foot under the front thwart and your left foot under the back thwart.”

I did as he said and he nodded when he was satisfied.

“Good. For now, since the river is slow, we’ll practice all forward. That means you don’t stop paddling until I say so. And we do it in sync. Got it?”

“Got it. In Sync, not Backstreet Boys,” I replied smiling.

Shane’s constant scowl finally lifted and his lip twitched.

“All right, smartass, let’s do this.”

For the next two hours, we practiced paddling. We ran a few grade three rapids (which rocked, by the way), then he taught me how to float nose and toes out of the water, and why that was so important. Feet can’t become tangled or pinned as easily, causing you to drown, if you lie on your back. You can also use your feet as buoys to bounce off the large rocks and boulders.

Overall, I think I did well, and by the end of the training session, Shane actually smiled.

“Well?” I asked as he carried his raft back toward Little Big Horn.

“You’re not like Mia, that’s for sure, but you still have a lot to learn.”

“What does that mean exactly? Is she some sort of hot shot rafter?”

Shane began to laugh so hard that he dropped the raft.

“What?”

That was the first time I’d heard Shane laugh since I met him and I felt the stroke of his laughter in my bones. Between the sound of his voice and the happiness shining from his eyes, I felt intoxicated and off balance.

“Mia, a hot shot rafter?”

“Didn’t you just say I wasn’t as good as Mia?” I breathed out.

“No,” Shane scoffed,” I said you weren’t anything like her. Which means you passed.”

“So she isn’t . . . she isn’t athletic, I take it?” I stumbled over the words, still trying to find firm ground. Lord, the man, had an effect I’d never experienced.

“No, she isn’t athletic. Clumsy is being nice; more like a disaster waiting to happen. Max’ll have gray hair before he turns thirty-five, keeping her alive.”

“Ah, well, that explains what Jake said yesterday,” I replied.

Shane grew quiet as I moved to help with the raft, but he picked it up and started toward our vehicles before I could help.

“Let’s get you back so you can go home and change clothes,” he said, his tone dry and emotionless. Just like that, he’d gone from carefree and laughing to sullen.

“Thanks,” I replied, concerned. “I’m freezing even though Maxine’s gear kept me dry.”

He’d picked up his pace and I tried to keep up, but his long legs ate up the distance quickly. He paused from time to time to check on me, but he didn’t say a word when I caught up. Once we got within fifty yards of the vehicles, his pace increased again and he pulled ahead. He was tossing the raft into his truck when I arrived, so I handed him my helmet and vest.

“Thank you for the lesson,” I said as he secured his gear.

“Least I could do,” he mumbled and then turned to leave.

“Least?” I asked, confused. He looked over his shoulder and the answer was written in the stormy color of his eyes. Least meaning: he felt responsible for my sister’s death, so therefore, it was the least he could do.

I shouldn’t have been surprised. I knew how he felt. But a part of me had believed he’d gone to the trouble of teaching me how to raft because we had a connection. That he’d felt it as well the night before and was drawn to me as I was to him. But I realized in that instant he was acting out of obligation, maybe even pity for my situation, and it hurt worse than it should.