-Caleb-
“Caleb, we need to slow down,” Jocelyn said after about a minute.
We were wearing life jackets, because Jocelyn insisted again. I could still see camp from where we were, so I shook my head. “No can do. If I squint one eye, I could probably see your father flipping me the bird.”
“He... okay, he might actually do that... but there are rocks out in the middle of the lake here in some places, too, you know!” Jocelyn yelled over the sound of the motor.
“We’ll be fine,” I grunted, maneuvering the canoe around a corner.
Jocelyn gripped the sides of the canoe, her eyes wide with fear. “Caleb—”
“Weren’t we going to be quiet?” I snapped.
Jocelyn lapsed into silence, but her knuckles were white on the sides of the canoe.
I sighed and slowed down. “I just want to get away, okay? Just for a while.”
“It’ll be kinda permanent if we both die out here,” Jocelyn pointed out.
I gave a bitter laugh. “True. Shit, between your dad and I, we’re really ruining your birthday. I’m sorry, Jocelyn.”
Jocelyn shrugged. “It’s fine. It is what it is.”
“It’s not fine.” I held up my hands when she frowned at me. “But we’ll agree to disagree.”
“Sounds good.” Jocelyn lapsed back into silence.
I kept us going through the water. Clouds began rolling in from the northeast..
“We’ve got rain gear in here, right?” I asked Jocelyn once the clouds started getting darker.
Jocelyn looked at the sky, then bit her lip. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention to where we were going. Do you know where camp is from here? I’ve never been to this part of the lake before.”
Indeed, I had also lost track of time. We’d been traveling for at least two hours. I swallowed hard and said, “Jocelyn, I have no idea where camp is from here.”
“Oh crap,” Jocelyn murmured. “Oh crap, crap, crap.”
“Should I pull off on an island somewhere?” I asked.
We both looked at the rocky, impassable shorelines around us. There wasn’t an inch of sand to be seen.
The wind picked up, whipping whisps of Jocelyn’s hair around her face as she gripped the sides of the canoe, looking for the same thing I was looking for—a friendly shore.
“We can just go back through the rain, right?” I suggested.
“Back where, Caleb? Neither of us knows where we are,” Jocelyn replied miserably.
I felt one drop of rain on my nose then looked up just in time to be pelted by a gray storm. I’d walked under waterfalls with less force.
The canoe rocked as the wind blew harder, sending rolling waves across the big lake that threatened to capsize us.
The water was no longer a friendly slate blue, but a deathly gray-black.
“What do I do, Jocelyn?” I asked. “What do I do?”
“Turn the nose into the waves,” Jocelyn said, obviously trying to keep calm. “Then see if you can navigate us between some islands. The water will be calmer there.”
“Okay!” I responded above the storm.
We were both soaked, neither of us going for our rain gear. The canoe was pitching too much for us to have any success at putting it on anyway.
I pointed the nose at the crests of the waves, and the canoe slammed down several times between crests. It was bone-jarring and frightening as hell.
“Jocelyn, I can’t see a damn thing in this rain!” I yelled.
“Rock! Rock, go right! Rock, rock, rock!” Jocelyn shouted back.
I tried, but the canoe smashed full sideways into a large, underwater rock whose tip could only be seen between waves. The canoe pitched onto its side, tossing Jocelyn, me, and all our gear out into the open water.
The lifejacket Jocelyn had insisted I always wear probably saved me from certain death. As it was, by the time I managed to get and keep my head above the waves, the canoe had been spun too far off for me to catch it.
My wader boots began to fill with water, weighing me down, so, with little choice, I kicked them off.
“Jocelyn!” I called into the storm. “Jocelyn?!”
A flash of neon purple a few yards away caught my attention. Distracted, I coughed and sputtered as a wave pounded over my head. When I bobbed back up, I sought out the purple again, then began swimming that way as best I could.
It was a long slog fighting the waves. I had to swim more sideways than straight ahead. But eventually, I made it to Jocelyn.
“Jocelyn?” I asked, grabbing her lifejacket.
Her head lolled to the side, and there was a pretty good gash on her forehead.
“Jesus. Jesus FUCK!” I swore, gripping the back strap on her life jacket and pulling her with me as I set out for shore—any shore.
I turned my back to the waves and let them carry us. It didn’t take long before I saw trees ahead.
“Thank fuck,” I said just before my socked foot connected with a sharp rock. “SONOFABITCH!”
The waves still bashed us forward. Jocelyn was limp on her back, so with some maneuvering, I was able to keep her from sustaining more injuries. But I could feel rock digging into my shins and knees.
Once we were close enough to shore, I began hauling Jocelyn over the rocks to the shoreline past them. It was dangerous going with the slippery rocks, but there was little other choice.
I didn’t know what damage I’d done to my feet, shins, knees, and hands, but I finally clawed us past the rocks onto the shore. Past the rock was ground covered in dried pine needles and dirt, undisturbed by man.
If I’d been thinking about it at the time, I would have considered it a bad sign. But I had Jocelyn to worry about.
“Jocelyn?” I asked, ripping open her lifejacket and putting my ear to her chest.
She wasn’t breathing, but she had a heartbeat.
I cupped my hands together and began CPR, pressing down on her ribcage.
“Please...” I begged whatever God would listen. “Please... Jocelyn... come back to me.”
After a few more pumps, Jocelyn coughed and threw up water.
I moved her onto her side so she didn’t choke, rubbing her back while she coughed the water out.
She rested a moment afterward, then turned her head slightly. “Caleb?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’m here. I’m here, Jocelyn,” I reassured her.
“Why do you call me Jocelyn?” she mumbled.
She didn’t seem to be quite “with it” yet, but I humored her just the same. “Because it’s your name.”
“S’not what people call me,” Jocelyn said, resting her head on the bed of pine needles.
“Would you rather I call you Jacey?” I asked, curious.
Joselyn nodded. “Makes us closer.” She started to nod off.
I shook her. “Nope, sorry, Jacey. You have to stay awake until we can figure out if you have a concussion.”
“But I’m tired,” Jocelyn whined.
“I know. You still have to stay awake, though,” I responded.
Jocelyn let out the cutest little grunt of displeasure.
“You hit your head pretty good,” I explained.
“Hurts.” Jocelyn looked at me, her eyelashes getting wet in the rain. “Any gear?”
“Couldn’t even grab the canoe,” I sighed. “Guess we’re stranded.”
“Ugh.” Jocelyn squeezed her eyes shut but opened them again before I gave her another shake.
I took off my lifejacket, folded it up, and put it under her head.
“That’s a bit cold and wet,” Jocelyn complained.
I chuckled. “We’re both cold and wet. We’re a couple of drowned rats.”
Jocelyn clumsily patted my hand. “Thanks.”
“Yeah, no problem. Just stay awake for now.” I wished I could do something about hers and my wet clothes, but with the rain still pouring down, there was nothing for it but to be miserable.
It was getting quite cold, and I began looking around for something we could use to make a fire. But everything was wet in the rain. I grimaced.
“You know, I’m allowed to be a romantic,” Jocelyn said, drawing my attention once more.
I winced. “Yeah, Jacey, I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to imply anything—”
“Yes, you did. But I want to let you know right now, I’m allowed to be a romantic, even though my mom left. Just like you’re allowed to be an asshole even though your parents had a great marriage before your father died,” Jocelyn muttered.
I really had stuck my foot in it, and I wasn’t sure how to heal the divide. Usually, I’d have gone silent a while, but the combination of the cold and what I suspected was a concussion kept trying to lull Jocelyn to sleep. “I’m sorry you think I’m an asshole.”
“I thought you were hot,” Jocelyn said. “I still think you’re hot. And you used to be nice to me. But then you became an asshole. And then I thought you were starting to be nice again, and then you thought I was just some... some... some...”
“I didn’t think anything like that, whatever you think I thought you were,” I argued. “I was just surprised. That’s all.”
Jocelyn frowned at me, her eyes a bit unfocused. “You wanted me to be easy. You expected it, even.”
That assessment hit me like a punch in the gut. I had been treating Jocelyn as though I expected her to be easy, ever since she’d seen me naked in the woods and telegraphed her clear desire for me. I should have known better. Jocelyn deserved better.
“Look,” I said. “I have had a hard-on for you since the second you confessed you liked me at your fifteenth birthday. Which, I know I didn’t handle well. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry I keep ruining your birthdays. This one is going to be another one for the books.”
“Stranded with my stepbrother?” Jocelyn laughed weakly.
“Exactly,” I sighed. “We may be well and truly fucked, Jacey.”
“In that case, can I go to sleep?” Jocelyn teased.
I frowned at her. “Oh, ha-ha. No.”
“The temperature is going to drop, maybe to the forties, maybe lower tonight,” Jocelyn said softly. “What if no one finds us by then?”
When she spoke, I could faintly see her breath. The temperature had dropped further because of the storm. It made me shiver. “Let’s just survive the rain first, shall we?” I replied, hugging my arms around myself.
Jocelyn nodded. Her eyes got heavy again, and I tried to think of something we could talk about that would keep her awake.
“Hey,” I said, squeezing her hand. “No sleeping, remember?”
“But I’m so tired,” Jocelyn whimpered.
“I know, Jacey, but you’ve got to tough it out. Tell me... tell me... uh... what do you remember about your mother?” I tried, going off our earlier subject.
Jocelyn wrinkled her brow. “She... left when I was five.”
“Yeah, I know. But you must remember some stuff,” I pressed. I’d started to shiver uncontrollably in the rain, and worried Jocelyn would start doing the same soon.
“She...” Jocelyn concentrated. “She smelled like... lilacs. It must have been her perfume or body lotion or something. She and my dad fought a lot. I remember a lot of yelling.”
“I’m sorry about that,” I murmured. “Maybe I should have chosen a different topic. I mean, are there any good things you remember about her?”
Jocelyn looked sad. “I’m not sure she wanted to be a mom. But I think she tried her best.”
“Shit. Okay, new subject...” I said, wracking my brain.
“How about your dad? What was he like?” Jocelyn asked.
I’d completely opened a can of worms between us. She didn’t want to talk about her mother because it seemed the woman had been a bit of a disappointment. But then how could she not be when she’d abandoned her own kid? In my case, I wasn’t too keen on talking about my father because... well... I missed him.
“He used to rent a cabin in Wisconsin every year so we could go fishing. Little fish. Nothing like what your dad says you pull out of here,” I said slowly. “I remember, when I was little, he liked to toss me in the air or zoom me around like an airplane. He was a huge Vikings fan. He loved my mom like crazy, and me, too.”
“You must miss him,” Jocelyn whispered.
I swallowed thickly and nodded. “I do.”
“Is that why you don’t like my dad?” Jocelyn asked.
“I like how your dad treats my mom. That’s enough, I guess,” I said carefully.
Jacey shook her head then winced at whatever pain that caused her. “There’s more. You don’t like him. I know it.”
I fought to find the right words that would explain the situation, yet not make Jocelyn angry and defensive about her father. “I don’t like how he dicks around with me.”
“That’s just his sense of humor. He doesn’t mean to be insensitive; he just is,” Jocelyn explained. “He’s kind of like a puppy who pees on the carpet without knowing they did anything wrong.”
“You’re very forgiving, Jacey.” I sighed and drew my knees to my chest, trying to conserve warmth. “Especially when I see how he treats you.”
“What do you mean?” Jacey asked.
I could feel my nostrils flare as anger curled deep in my belly. “Like this trip. He did what he wanted instead of what you wanted, even though it’s YOUR birthday. Things like that. If you were mine, it would matter to me what you feel and what you think. A lot.”
“If I were your kid? You’re only four years older than me, Caleb,” Jocelyn snorted.
I leaned close and pressed my hand against her wet cheek. “No. Not if you were my kid. If you were my lover.”