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the�U.P.�was�an�accident,�why�hadn't�he�mentioned�it�to�her?
"All�the�police�had�on�that�trouble�up�north�was�a�description�including�them�spaghetti�scars�on�the�back�of�his�hand.�It�was�the�same�deal,�Jake�drunk�and�not�
knowing�when�to�quit."
"Can�I�see�him?"
"It'd�be�better�if�you�didn't,�honey."
What�else�hadn't�Jake�told�her�about�in�the�last�five�months?�A�wife,�maybe?
Inside�the�cabin,�Gwen�fried�the�fish�the�way�she�would�have�for�Jake,�with�cornmeal�and�flour�in�the�last�of�the�bacon�grease.�About�the�time�they�finished�eating,�Dan�
turned�on�his�battery�powered�fluorescent�lantern.�Gwen�was�surprised�at�how�bug�stained�the
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walls�were,�how�ratty�the�rug�looked�in�the�cold�light,�and�how�grimy�she�had�let�her�arms�and�legs�become.�She�asked�Dan�to�tell�her�more.
"There�ain't�nothing�more�to�it."
"Does�Jake�own�this�cottage?"�she�asked.
"Me�and�Jake�own�it�together.�You�can�stay�here�as�long�as�you�want,�Gwennie.�Don't�you�worry�your�pretty�head�about�that."
Dan�and�Charley�drank�beer�while�Gwen�washed�dishes�with�water�she�lugged�in�and�heated�on�the�propane�stove.�Gwen,�who�didn't�usually�drink,�managed�to�get�
down�three�beers�before�she�felt�herself�nodding�off.�She�awoke�with�her�forehead�on�the�table,�with�Dan�stroking�her�hair.�Dan�told�Charley�he�could�sleep�in�the�
rocking�chair�on�the�screen�porch�and�threw�him�a�sleeping�bag�from�the�boat.�Then�he�half�carried�Gwen�into�the�tiny�bedroom�with�him.�She�felt�obliged,�as�though�
refusing�to�go�to�bed�with�him�would've�been�inhospitable.
Early�in�the�morning,�she�crawled�out�of�bed�and�heated�water�for�powdered�coffee.�There�wasn't�much�propane�left.�When�it�ran�out�she'd�have�to�take�the�boat�to�
Confluence�to�get�the�tank�filled,�which�would�cost�twenty�dollars�she�didn't�have.�She�walked�past�Charley�slumped�sideways�in�the�porch�chair he'd�have�a�terrible�
stiff�neck�when�he�woke�up.�From�her�dock�she�watched�the�green�Jeep�pull�away�from�the�house�across�the�river.�This�evening�when�the�man�got�home�she�could�
watch�his�yellow�dog�hunker�down�again�at�the�river's�edge.�Since�Jake�had�gone,�she'd�seen�it�catch�a�fish�in�its�jaws�five�times.
After�more�than�two�weeks�without�Jake,�Gwen�had�forgotten�how�a�big�man�generated�heat�around�him~�the�bedroom�had�been�stifling�last�night.�She'd�never�meant�
to�sleep�with�Dan,�but�she'd�let�herself�forget�who�he�was�when�he�rolled�onto�her.�Guilt�pricked�her,�as�sharp�as�the�catfish�stingers.�If�Jake�found�out,�he'd�punch�her�
like�she�was�a�man,�and�maybe�she�deserved�it.�She�pushed�those�thoughts�below�the�surface.�The�steam�rose�off�her�coffee�as�mist�rose�from�the�water.
Gwen�found�her�siphon�hose�and�sucked�gas�out�of�Dan's�tank,�enough�for�a�trip�up�to�Confluence,�two�maybe�if�she�rowed�back
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down�without�the�motor.�Or�maybe�she'd�take�a�fishing�trip�to�Willow�Island�where�last�time�she'd�seen�a�heron�carry�a�little�snake�up�to�its�tree�nest.�She�rinsed�the�
fuel�taste�from�her�mouth�with�coffee�and�spat�it�into�the�river.�Back�in�the�cottage,�she�lifted�three�beers�out�of�Dan's�cooler�and�hid�them�in�the�kitchen�cupboard.�Dan�
called�her�name,�and�she�stepped�into�the�tiny�bedroom.�He�didn't�look�as�much�like�Jake�as�he�had�yesterday~�he�looked�more�like�a�swollen�possum�washed�up�on�
her�river�bank.
"Come�here,�beautiful,"�he�said.�She�hesitated,�but�the�room�was�small�enough�that�he�was�able�to�reach�across,�grab�her�arm,�and�drag�her�to�the�bed.�He�pulled�off�
her�loose�jeans�without�unzipping�them�and�pushed�her�T�shirt�up�around�her�shoulders.�She�bent�her�knees�and�tried�to�sit�up,�but�he�held�her�down�with�one�hand�
and�ran�the�other�over�her�breasts�and�along�her�stomach.�He�pushed�her�knee�out�to�the�side�and�heaved�himself�onto�her,�then�worked�his�hand�beneath�her�buttock�
to�tilt�her,�pushing�deeper.�He�sighed�her�name�in�hot�breath.�She�turned�her�head�to�look�out�the�window�but�saw�only�empty�sky.�She�wondered�how�she�had�let�this�
happen.�"Oh,�Gwennie,"�he�moaned�again,�and�she�felt�his�sickening�heat�over�her�face,�through�her�hair,�filling�the�room.�She�longed�to�see�a�heron�fly�across�the�sky�
framed�by�the�window,�its�neck�pressed�into�a�tight�S.�She�needed�to�feel�that�prehistoric�swoop�or�hear�the�monster�shriek�of�an�angry�male.�A�flash�of�bluegray�wing�
and�she�would�survive�this.
After�Dan�rolled�off�her,�he�fell�asleep.�Gwen�pulled�away�from�him�and�picked�her�clothes�up�off�the�floor�with�shaking�hands.�In�the�kitchen�she�sifted�weevils�out�of�
the�flour�for�pancakes she�needed�to�do�something�measured.�Each�time�she�let�herself�think�of�Dan�lying�in�her�bed,�she�had�to�sit�and�hold�her�head�in�her�hands.�
She�thought�about�grabbing�the�butcher�knife�with�the�burned�handle�and�going�back�in�there.�She'd�feel�for�a�place�between�two�ribs�and�sink�the�blade�in.�When�
Charley�appeared�in�the�kitchen�with�his�gummy�smile,�holding�his�neck,�she�invited�him�to�sit�at�the�table.�She�opened�a�beer,�poured�half�of�it�in�her�batter,�then�
handed�the�open�can�to�Charley.�His�company�calmed�her�stomach.�"Are�you�hungry,�Charley?"�she�asked.�"Did�you�sleep�good?"
Page�67
"You's�got�a�toilet�around�here?"�asked�Charley.�Gwen�directed�him�to�the�outhouse.
When�Dan�and�Charley�first�powered�away,�Gwen�was�relieved.�But�as�soon�as�the�boat�rounded�the�bend,�she�felt�lonesome�and�nauseated.�Dan�had�given�her�the�
food�from�his�cooler cheese,�summer�sausage,�and�sleeves�of�crackers before�pulling�away�to�return�to�his�wife.�Later�Gwen�discovered�two�twenty�dollar�bills�on�
her�pillow.�She�wished�Dan�had�said�something�like,�"Jake�wanted�me�to�give�you�this."
Hours�later,�after�the�Jeep�returned,�the�fishing�dog�appeared�in�his�place�on�the�other�side�of�the�river.�To�lighten�the�boat�for�rowing,�Gwen�pulled�off�the�outboard�
with�shaking�hands�and�placed�it�carefully�on�blocks�so�as�not�to�bend�the�propeller,�then�rowed�across.�She�had�never�touched�the�dog�or�seen�him�up�close,�but� [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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