The Trouble with Rescuing Zoe

  On his return, he sat down next to her in front of the fire. “Burr. It's nice to be back.”

  He took stock of their cave as he warmed himself. The drawing on the wall had changed. “I see you worked some more on your drawing.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that.”

  “Are those all arrows sticking in me?”

  She perked up and smiled. “I was really upset. Here, let me add the cougar. She jumped up, taking the rock, and added a growling cougar to the scene.

  He took a bite of his dinner while admiring the whole picture. “I wonder what the archaeologists are going to think. Two women, a cougar, and some poor guy stuck full of arrows.”

  “Early cavewoman feminism.” She settled back next to the fire. “So tell me, what did you find out there?”

  Harry shifted a couple times how he was sitting. “No town, not even a cabin. That's for sure. But let me tell you about it in the morning. I’m exhausted.” Harry hoped she wouldn’t pester him for details. His experience playing poker told him now was not the time to show his hand. Thinking about how Zoe had burned her note some days ago, he also didn’t want his own white lie.

  He turned his eyes away and pondered how to continue. “I think I have a plan. I'll tell you in the morning. Right now, I'm zonked, time to sleep.”

  “Are we ever going to get out?” she whispered.

  “Oh yeah.” He rolled over. “Good night.”

  “Good night Harry. And I'm glad you are back.”

  Chapter 6

  In the morning, Zoe woke to the sound of dripping water. That was strange. She got up to look around, discovering the drips were coming from the crack in the cave's ceiling, which acted as their chimney.

  Harry woke and also noticed the drips. “I think it’s melting snow from the fire.” He went to look outside but couldn’t open the door. He pushed hard and budged it a few inches.

  Through the gap he saw nearly three feet of snow piled up, and it was still falling.

  “It's a whopper of a snow storm. Look at it come down.” He worked the door open and pushed aside the snow, clearing an area just in front of the cave. They stood in the entrance and watched. The limbs of the pine trees were covered and weighed down. It was a wet snow and turning to ice as the temperatures dropped.

  “It's beautiful.” She watched for a few more minutes before her brain circled around to what this could mean. “Can we get out?”

  “I don't think so with all this snow. We're going to have to wait till it melts.”

  “You mean months?”

  “There is plenty of game here. We can wait it out. It would be madness to do anything else.”

  “But what about your plan?” She paced back and forth.

  “It'll have to wait.”

  He made it sound like there would be a 45-minute wait at his favorite restaurant instead of a months-long one.

  “I'm going to have a baby out here. I don't want to.” She started to cry.

  Harry gave her a hug, which she accepted. “If I was sure that we could get out safely, if I knew what was ahead, I would give it a try.”

  “But surely you must’ve seen signs of people out there?” She stilled before pushing away from him. “Wait, I know what's going on. This is what you want. Damn.”

  “What I want doesn't matter. At this point, neither of us have a choice.” He gave her a gentle press toward the cave. “Why don't you go back in and warm up.”

  She went inside, still crying, while he remained outside.

  “There's a road out there, I think. I didn't actually see it, but I'm pretty sure it's there.”

  She wondered why didn’t he mention that tidbit earlier. “Now you mention the road. Let's go as soon as the storm lets up.”

  He shook his head. “We've been lucky so far. Are you willing to die trying now that winter’s here? How many times do you want to tempt chance?” His hands waved in the air. “This storm is fate telling us not to go.”

  That meant she would have to accept the reality of waiting out the winter—and having the baby.

  “Seems fate has let you off the hook. No chance in hell of getting out in a couple days now.” Zoe’s head sagged downward and she let out a sigh.

  “True. I’m grateful to this storm in that way. But it doesn't mean I caused the storm, and it doesn't mean I wouldn't have told you about the road.”

  “Are you saying you would have?”

  “I really didn't want to—I’ll be honest. Just let me focus on what I can do—help you have this baby and then get us out. There’s no point in playing out the other possibilities.”

  The words of this conversation played over and over in her head. Something bothered her. A chill went through her when she realized that he might be saying what he needed to keep her out here. A sense of doubt flooded her about Harry’s assessment.

  Zoe marched right by Harry and into the snow. It was deep but she didn’t sink too far. She walked away from the cave. Not too bad, she thought. Although each step involved punching a hole in the icy snow and pulling her foot out to move ahead, it worked. Delighted she proved Harry wrong, she spun around to announce her findings, but slipped. As she went down, one foot wedged in the rocks.

  She screamed. The pain was excruciating.

  Harry stepped forward and examined her. When he touched her ankle, she screamed again.

  “You’ve broken it.” He shook his head in apparent disbelief of what just happened.

  The immediate pain subsided and Harry scooped her up into his arms, carrying her back inside. He put her down near the fire.

  “Are you sure it’s broken?”

  “I don’t know. Could be sprained. Either way, you’re not going anywhere any time soon.”

  Zoe sighed and resigned herself to various realities: her ankle throbbed, it’s going to be a hell of a long winter, and I’m really going to have a baby.

  She straightened up. A baby, shit, her mind had hit overload. She went back to sleep.

  When she woke, Harry was sitting in the cave admiring his axe. Avoiding what really bothered her, she took shelter in a more trivial thought.

  “I'm so going to die of boredom.”

  “Oh,” said Harry, “give me a few minutes to make sure our food isn't getting buried too deep.” He smiled. “When I get back, I'll play you a song.”

  “Using what?” Had he now constructed some crude instrument while he’d been gone?

  “I've got a harmonica. It's tucked away in the gun case.” When Harry returned, he got it out and played for a while.

  “I love those old classic songs.” She shifted, grimacing. “It hurts. Can we move closer to the fire?”

  “Sure.”

  “I wish I were home.”

  “Me too.”

  They sat silent for a few minutes. Perhaps Harry would regale her with another story about himself. “Tell me about your kids. You said you have three.”

  “That's right. Jennifer, my youngest, is an incredible kid, just starting high school. She's interested in everything, and easy to be around. Next is Sophie. She's about your age and studying to be a nurse. She's got a strong will. I think when she was four, she asked her mom, with all seriousness, why Pam got to make all the decisions. We had to give Sophie a lot of space, but she grew up just fine.”

  “What about your son?”

  Harry poked a twig around the edges of the fire. “We had a falling out a while ago. Better not to open this door…I’ll just get hurt all over again. He's got some growing up to do.” He looked up at her. “How about you? Any brothers or sisters?”

  “No. Just me. I've been center stage forever.”

  “Is that bad?”

  “It can be too much. Mom gets involved in every decision, every detail. I love her, but I want to make my own choices. That's really hard for her to accept.”

  “Psychologists say that it’s months for a newborn to understand that their mother is their own person. But, the truth is, takes an entire child
hood, or more, for a parent to realize this of their children.”

  He rose up on one arm. “In fact, a friend of mine was sitting around a Thanksgiving dinner, listening to everyone doting on one of the granddaughters. They were predicting this intelligent three year-old would grow up to be a doctor. Another praised her coordination and said she should be a surgeon. My friend told me he leaned back and said that she might grow up to be a clown in a traveling circus.” Harry smiled, clearly lost in his memory. “There was dead silence. He explained to them that you just don't know what kids will want to be, and you certainly can't control it.”

  “That's funny.”

  “He said they’re still angry.”

  Harry shook his head then leaned forward and in a quiet voice, as if sharing a secret, said, “You just gotta love kids for who they are.”

  “It’s like I'm always disappointing mom when I disagree. It's not that I don't care, but I need to be me. I know what I want.”

  She took a breath. “In fact, my mom was visiting before I left.” Her voice had become louder. “We spent two days mostly arguing. Can you believe that?”

  He started to comment but she cut him off. “I made it clear. I’m not listening to her.”

  “But are you always right?”

  She lifted one shoulder. “No. But mom’s always saying, ‘See, wasn't it better this way?’ I hate that. It wasn’t my choice.”

  “There's only one problem with pushing away your parents to give yourself space.”

  “What's that?”

  “What do you think?”

  She didn’t have to ponder long. “They finally learn to leave you alone.”

  “That's right, only one day you realize that you are alone.”

  She couldn’t see that. “My mom’s never going to change, or ever stop bugging me.”

  “I guess that's why we think of parents giving unconditional love and kids giving unconditional grief.”

  She laughed. “I'm not that bad.”

  “We’re all that bad. Its amazing parents survive.”

  Zoe looked toward the door. “I bet they’re worried sick.”

  “Worse, I'm afraid.” He started poking at the fire again with the stick. “Our families are probably wondering if we are alive.”

  #

  Harry spent hours most days gathering and chopping wood. On the few days that temperatures dropped, particularly below freezing, firewood was as essential as food.

  Once her sprain healed, he asked Zoe to pick pinecones from the surrounding forest to broaden their diet. After she placed them in the sun for a few days, it was easy to smash the cones and separate out the nuts. She enthusiastically took on this new job.

  Although she collected a huge pile of nuts during the day, opening them up was tedious, so they did this together. One by one, they tapped and cracked open the shells to get at the seeds. These they dropped into his collapsible cup, and when full it went into the fire. Their roasting gave off a wonderful aroma.

  Harry loved to hunt. This was when he felt he was at his best. Sometimes he bagged a deer or an elk. Otherwise it was at least a squirrel or two, but he would trap them in a hole—couldn’t waste the ammo on something small.

  Zoe had become an expert on preparing and storing the meat. She also spent hours making additional blankets from the hides. This included a few special, infant-sized ones. There were lots of tricks to surviving in the wild. He knew the tricks and appreciated that Zoe was a quick learner.

  After a few months Zoe was noticeably pregnant and waddled around, reaching out now and then for balance. During one such time, he watched in amusement.

  “You know, they call me the electric eel when I’m dancing.” She showed in slow motion one of her moves, swinging her hips from one side to the other.

  She’d hardly begun before she tipped. He grabbed her, helping her sit down. “I’m sure they do. But not today.”

  She chuckled then went completely still. “Oh my!”

  “What?” His mind went to the worst-case scenario—she’s giving birth.

  “The baby moved. A real kick.” Her hand spanned her stomach. “It happened again. Put your hand here.”

  Relieved, Harry still felt a little uncomfortable with the invitation, but also sensed a precious moment. He tentatively extended his hand which she took and guided it to her belly. Without missing a beat, she continued reminiscing.

  “I miss dancing. We’d hit the Maple Street Bar every weekend and dance up a storm.”

  “We?”

  “My boyfriend and I. He’s king on the dance floor—sometimes it’s like some alien creature got inside him and was trying to get out…his arms and legs flailing all around, but with perfect rhythm and spewing energy right and left. I love watching him.”

  Just then, her stomach moved, pushing against his palm. “Hey, I felt the little guy.” He thought about his own children and their first kicks from inside—how he’d joke with his wife that their personalities were already showing up.

  “We were hot stuff on campus. I miss him. I miss his calming way. It balanced my over-the-top everything.”

  He lifted his hand. “Sounds like a great kid—even a bit like mine. Does he get along with his dad?”

  “Wouldn’t imagine why not, if he had one. His dad died, long time ago. In fact, when we met I think we hit it off in part because of this. He yearned to be connected. It was so obvious, he’d open up to anyone.” She touched Harry on the shoulder. ”Maybe one day you can fix things up with your son.”

  Harry looked down. “I don’t know. My son’s got big issues.” Harry’s eyes rose, his face pained, and he gazed right by Zoe. “I just can’t seem to tell him anything. The harder I try the less he hears.”

  “Harry,” she touched his cheek to get his attention, “you can’t tell, you need to show.”

  Harry cleared his throat. “I’ve cruised by his place now and then hoping to see him, but couldn’t bring myself to stop. Your boyfriend sounds much better…like he has his act together.”

  Saying these words apparently helped Harry relax. The tension in his body eased. He winked at her. “After all, he caught you.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t go that far. He’s fun, but still waiting for him to grow up. You know, become marriage material.”

  “I wonder if I ever drove past you guys. Your dance hangout is just up the road from my son’s apartment.”

  “In Grand Junction, everything is just up the road.”

  “True enough.” He got up and put on his coat. “I’m heading out. See if I can catch something special for dinner.”

  “Squirrel on a stick again?”

  “Probably. By the way, that little guy, or gal, is going to need a name. Something to think about.”

  “Yeah, in due time.” She lifted her index finger, as if to say she wanted a moment of his time. “Hey, before you go, I don’t know about you, but I need to clean up. Really need a bath.”

  He didn’t see what he could do, but he played along. “Okay.”

  “I’m serious. I need some warm water.”

  “Okay.” He pondered a bit—then got his collapsible cup from the gun case. He stepped outside and returned with it filled with snow. Placing it almost in the fire, they both watched as the snow turned to water.

  “That’s a pretty small bathtub. I’m staying somewhere else next time.”

  Her deadpanned sarcasm elicited a gusty laugh from deep within him as he made his way out the door.

  #

  More months passed, and Zoe noticed her own increasing girth and inability to get around. Anticipating her delivery, she knew that they need warm water—more than a cupful. She made this clear to Harry.

  Outside, there was a small creek fed by the now melting snow. His first attempt involved a crude wooden bowl fashioned with his axe. He hung it above the fire, but it eventually went up in flames and spilled. This failed event, however, led Harry to his second idea. He noticed the spilled water had settled in
a low spot in floor…a natural large bowl. He filled this indentation from the creek. Placing hot rocks in it yielded a nice, pool of warm water in about ten minutes.

  She was delighted. She shooed Harry from the cave and took her time taking a proper bath in the warm puddle of water. Just like a kid playing in a bathtub, she discovered she could push the water with her arm and get a wave to splash over the indentation, naturally draining out the door. A little work and the dirty water was gone.

  “What’s this mess out here?” Harry had returned and found the water pooled just outside the cave. He opened the door and looked. “Clever.”

  It was early April and warm winds whistled through the trees. She felt ready—as ready as one could be in their circumstances.

  It was the middle of the night when her belly seized in a foreign way, causing her to move around and inadvertently wake Harry. A warmth oozed between her legs and her eyes widened. It was happening.

  “My water broke and I think I've had my first contraction.”

  “Oh my.”

  She pinned him down with an accusatory glare. “I thought you've been through this a few times?”

  “Well, yes, but each time, it's, ‘oh my.’”

  “You'd better start warming some water.”

  “I'll put some rocks in the fire. For my first child, Pam was in labor over a day. It's going be a while. Best to just relax.” He already moved to do her bidding. “By the way, I've got a surprise for you.”

  The rocks now placed in the fire, he went to his coat and pulled out a small bar of soap. “I've been saving this for today. It’s from the plane’s first aid kit.”

  The little bar of soap, no bigger than something a hotel would put out, looked heavenly. “That's nice…I mean it.” Her stomach constricted again and she squeezed her eyes shut against the discomfort. “Can you sing me a lullaby?”

  “Sure.”

  Zoe knew he was secretly pleased at her request, even though he used a casual tone. He had made a habit of singing to her—well, to the baby—before they turned in for the night. She’d grown accustomed to this little ritual.

  This night, Harry tucked in her blanket. He got out his harmonica and alternated between playing and singing. He rubbed her belly every once in a while, and she drifted off.

  #