Once Upon a River Page 0,48
armloads of broken branches. Last winter, Brian had kept the cabin well stocked with food and fuel, but Margo didn’t have the resources. She didn’t even have a chainsaw, since Brian had taken it to town the day he was arrested. Maybe she ought to get out while she could, row across and hide her boat somewhere, and then hitchhike to Lake Lynne. If only her mother wanted her to come.
All evening Margo sat on Brian’s bed with blankets around her and watched the lights in Michael’s house. She imagined she could make out his silhouette hunched over the table, where he was probably reading. She wondered if he had to clean house every night in order to keep things as tidy as they were, and she wondered if there were really girls who had been raised by wolves.
She had no matches left; if the woodstove and lantern went out during the night, she wouldn’t be able to relight them or the propane cooking stove. And Paul could show up at any minute. Though it was late, she had to get out of the cabin, at least until she was certain Paul wouldn’t come that night. The gas station was open until ten o’clock. She pulled one of Brian’s wool sweaters over Michael’s clean sweatshirt and carried the sleeping bag to the boat in case she had to sleep outside. She wrapped her Marlin in the sleeping bag and put it on the rear seat beside her. She couldn’t put anything under the seat because she hadn’t bailed the water after the recent rains. Past Willow Island, her engine sputtered out of gas and died. She took up her oars and rowed for a few hundred yards, before she paused. She patted her front pants pocket where she’d put her bills and change yesterday, and she found it empty. The pants were Michael’s. She had her wallet, but it contained no money. She had left her bills and change in her own jeans on the edge of Michael’s bathtub. She lifted her oars out of the water and let herself be pulled back down the river. No stars shone tonight, and cold rain began to pour down.
Rainwater pooled around her feet. Instead of going to her own side of the river when she rounded the last bend, she pulled up at Michael’s oil-barrel float. She could get her money back, and surely he had some matches she could borrow. He probably even had lawn mower gas she could use in her motor to get back upstream. She tied up her boat, checked the shed door, and found it padlocked. With her rifle in one hand, the sleeping bag held around her with the other, she approached the house and looked in through the sliding glass door. At first she could see only the glowing numbers on a digital clock. As her eyes adjusted, she saw King rise from the floor at the foot of the bed.
As quickly as King began to bark, Michael was standing on the other side of the glass, wearing boxer shorts and no shirt.
He switched on an outside light and slid the door open. “Margaret Louise? Don’t you ever sleep in a bed?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Well, come on in. Be sorry inside. Sorry for the way I’m dressed. I wasn’t expecting a visitor.”
When she stepped in, Michael looked down at the puddles forming on the plywood.
“Damn, I’ve really got to finish this floor,” he said. “That’s my next project.” He took the wet sleeping bag from her shoulders, pointed at where she should leave her shoes, and retrieved a towel from the bathroom to clean up the mess.
Margo had not realized how chilly she was until she stepped into the warm house.
“So you’ve come to me armed and dangerous this time,” he said. “If you leave your rifle here in the corner with your shoes, I promise nobody will touch it.”
“Do you shoot?”
“I’m the only guy in my family who doesn’t. My dad thinks I’m an aberration.”
“What’s that?”
“What?”
“An aberration.”
“An oddity, I guess. A freak.”
“Like a girl raised by wolves?”
He smiled. “Your blanket’s soaked—I’ll put it in the dryer. I’ll put your other clothes in there from this morning, too. I already washed them. Hey, talk to me, Margaret Louise.”
She stammered and said, “Thank you for the omelet.”
Michael laughed. “Take a shower, and you can thank me for the hot water tomorrow.”
Margo rested her gun in the corner just inside the door. For the first time in a long