it, save the talk till I get back. I don’t want to miss anything.”
“Sure.” To Riley I said, “It’ll be better for your jaw to have as little movement in the area as possible.”
His eyes glowing, Riley inched his thumb and index finger together and made the motion of writing; he raised his eyebrows in questioning. His index finger was wet with bits of apple.
“We don’t have anything to write with. In fact we don’t have anything much at all.”
Riley applauded, his eyes making a quick glance up and down my body.
Looking back over his shoulder, Adam said cheerfully, “I’ll be back soon.”
When Adam returned, he was speeding over the grasslands in full sunshine carrying a blazing pine knot. Close to our sleeping shed, he placed a circle of protective stones, then built a tall, open-sided peaked roof to shelter the flame. Throughout the morning Adam came and went, always hurrying to beat the storm clouds building from the western horizon. When Riley made running motions with two fingers, I explained the need for hurry—rain would likely come again in the late afternoon and on through the night.
Riley let his other hand make a second pair of hurrying legs, and then he flicked the back of his hand to shoo me away so I could help fetch and carry. Surveying my patient, I saw he was pale and in discomfort, but he had no need for constant monitoring. His face was full of life and bounce. I rose and ran after Adam, calling to him to wait. I explained we had a considerate patient, one who had sent me to help.
As we hurried over the grasses, Adam told me about the food he wanted to gather. There was a warmth in his communication, a series of sudden smiles when he looked down at me, more directness in his affect. Not far away I could smell a herd of gazelles grazing.
“You’re feeling better, aren’t you?” I said to Adam. Even the way he put down his bare feet seemed to suggest he felt himself substantial, defined.
“You think so, don’t you?” he remarked.
When I nodded, he simply added, “I do, too.”
Why should we discuss Riley or speculate on what his presence implied? Why should I ever mention to Riley that Adam was sometimes visited by delusions? Adam had become competent now—kind, practical, decisive.
At noon, as we walked through the orchard, I stopped at a fig tree. I tore off two of the large, lobed leaves. Remembering Riley’s deliberate survey of my body, his eyes looking slowly up and down my torso and legs, I held a fig leaf over each breast and asked Adam if he knew a way to make them stick to my skin.
“Sure.” What refreshing enthusiasm he packed into that single syllable. He went on, “Fresh rosin will do it. I’ll just nick one of the little pines over there.” He went about the task immediately, selecting a place where sap had already oozed out a sticky white crust. I thought of my days with the viola, when I used a dried, hardened cake of this same substance to rosin my bow. Applying the stickiness with one finger, Adam stroked gooey patches on my chest just above each breast. As he finger-painted, he asked in a matter-of-fact way if I’d like a skirt, too. “I could make one, sort of Hawaiian style, out of long grass.”
“Would you? Later, when we have time.”
“You’ll want to be careful around the fire.”
He plopped a dollop of goo on my belly below my navel just above my pubic hair and stuck the largest fig leaf there. We both laughed out loud. I was a parody of every modest medieval or Renaissance painting of Eve. Adam maintained his unself-conscious dignity, naked. He smiled down at me, some combination of good humor—which he’d learned already from Riley’s manner—and handsome, shy lout, like the comic-book Superman. I liked his combination of sweetness and power; I felt about fourteen instead of forty-odd.
When Riley saw me approaching in my new covering, he made binoculars of his hands and placed them around his eyes. As we walked into the shady redwood grove, he said loudly through his bound-closed jaw, “Shit!” but he shrugged, too, as though to say, “Whatever.” We all laughed.
As we cooked fish on the makeshift skillet, we heard thunder revving up in the distance. The goat came by to offer milk again, and I made a cherry sauce for the fish, along with a fricassee of