The Middle of Somewhere(85)

“We could. But it’s getting late and we’d be just as likely to be moving closer to them instead of farther away.”

Dante picked up the bundle of nylon cord. “Can we do anything with this?”

Liz glanced at the position of the tent, then scanned the entire area. “I’ve got an idea.”

They moved the tent to the edge of the site where it was bordered on two sides by ten-foot-high boulders crammed against a steep hill. Using trees as anchors, and tent stakes when necessary, they strung cord along a twenty-foot perimeter, eight inches off the ground, hoping it would be invisible at night. It wouldn’t stop the Roots from getting to the tent, but at least there might be a warning.

They ate dinner, washed the dishes and got ready for bed, taking care to step over the trip lines. Dante gathered stones in a pile outside the tent door and practiced a few times with the slingshot. Clouds appeared, and coalesced, turning magenta, violet and turquoise with the setting sun. Liz wondered if it might rain, or even storm during the night, and decided she didn’t care. In fact, if a storm would keep the Root brothers at bay, she’d welcome it.

At dusk she and Dante entered the tent. The temperature had dropped rapidly and they hurried into their sleeping bags. For a long while, they lay on their backs listening to the wind sweep up the valley and stir the branches overhead. Liz wasn’t confident she could sleep, both because of a possible threat from the Roots, and because she was lying next to a man whom she loved dearly but who was in all likelihood no longer hers. She wouldn’t cry—she was spent. She would simply close her eyes and await the morning.

Dante rolled over to face her, although the dark was absolute. “You were right to say it was partly my fault you became pregnant. I wish we’d both been more responsible.”

His tone was sincere—when was he not sincere?—but guarded, as if a bigger truth was on the way. “Thanks. So do I.”

“But I can’t see how that changes what you did, and how you hid everything from me.”

“No, it doesn’t change it. Nothing will. But, Dante, I knew that you would want to keep the baby, and get married.”

“Is that so awful, Liz?”

“I wish you wouldn’t put it that way.”

“How would you put it?”

She sat up, agitated. “That if pregnancy automatically means marriage and a family, then people who can’t remember to use birth control should probably not be having sex!”

He was quiet for a moment. “So what is it you regret? Moving in with me? Ever having slept with me?”

She felt pinpricks behind her eyes. Her mind was awash with emotion. She couldn’t think straight. With pain running like acid through her veins, she did regret those things. She regretted everything.

She lay down and he went on. “Now that I think about it, you only moved in with me because you lost your condo.”

“That was the impetus, yes,” she said weakly. “But I wanted to.”

He ignored the last part. “And sleeping with me in the first place? Or dating me, for that matter? Or having a drink with me at Freddie’s? What was the impetus, as you say, for that, since you seemed to know you would come to regret it all?”

The feeling came to her with the certainty of a sunrise. “Hope. Foolish hope.”

They gave up on talking and retreated into separate, broken worlds. In those parallel landscapes, Liz on her inflated rectangle and Dante on his, they each found sleep.





CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT





She was half awake and contemplating whether she needed to go outside to pee or whether she could wait until morning. They’d gone to bed so early she guessed it was now not even midnight. She was summoning the motivation to brave the cold when the sharp snap of a branch alerted her. She pushed her hat away from her ears and rose on one elbow. Rustling sounds, or maybe the wind.

She placed her hand on Dante’s cheek. He stirred and she moved a finger to his lips. He touched her arm in acknowledgment and rolled to his side.

More rustling. A faint light winked, or maybe she imagined it.

“An animal?” Dante whispered.

A loud thud. “Oof!”

Liz sat upright, her heart racing. Dante shucked off his bag and fumbled for the zipper on the door.

Outside, “Darn it!” Rodell. “Don’t move, Payton. There’s a friggin’ wire!”

Dante crouched in the vestibule. Liz’s hands darted around her, searching for the flashlight. She found it in the corner near her feet, pushed the button and shone it toward him. The beam shook and she used both hands to steady it. Rodell swore again and she could hear one of them move through the undergrowth. Dante loaded the slingshot and scuttled sideways out of the vestibule, determination and fear written on his face. Liz crawled to his side and pointed the light to the location of the sound. Rodell was framed in the beam, scrabbling for the flashlight that had been knocked out of his hand in the fall.