"I don't know."
The trees and grass muted the traffic noise outside the Public Garden. The swan boats glided. The ducks followed. We watched them for a while.
"You were a boy," Susan said.
"Yep."
"Up against not only an adult man, but a big, brutish adult male."
"Yes."
"Because Jeannie was your friend."
"Yes."
"Did you think you loved her?"
"No," I said. "I knew she wasn't the one."
"How did you know that?"
"I just knew."
Susan smiled.
"You seem not to have changed a lot since you were fourteen," Susan said.
"I'm bigger," I said.
"True."
I opened my coat.
"I have a gun," I said.
"Yes."
"And I'm with the one."
"Me too," she said.
"So, see, I have too changed," I said.
"If you were in the same situation today," Susan said, "would you go to the riverbank and call the cops?"
I looked at her. She looked at me.
"Well, now I could kick Luke Haden's butt," I said.
"You know as well as I do that you would not go ashore and ask for help," Susan said.
I shrugged.
"It has to be you," Susan said.
I shrugged again.
"Do you know why?" she said.
"Ego?" I said.
"Oh, probably some of that, but self-sufficiency comes to mind."
"Isn't that sort of like independence?" I said.
Susan smiled.
"I would guess," she said, "that independence was the result of self-sufficiency."
"Wow," I said. "You must have a PhD from Harvard, way you talk."
"Aw, it's nothing," Susan said.
"You think I was born that way?" I said. "Or did I learn it from my family?"
"Nature or nurture?" Susan said.
"Uh-huh."
"I don't know," Susan said.
"You don't know?" I said.
"Nobody else does either," Susan said.
"But you have a PhD," I said.
"From Harvard," Susan said.
"And you don't know either?" I said.
"No."
"Then it must be unknowable," I said.
"That's the only explanation," Susan said.
Chapter 17
Pearl and I slickered around the rim of the island in the rowboat, trying to come at the camp from a different side. When I thought we were about opposite where we had been, I pushed into the bank, tied the boat and we went ashore. It was jet dark in the woods and hard going. I went slow and careful and very low, pulling loose from the thorny vines, scraping myself on branches that stuck up unexpectedly from fallen trees, banging my knee at least once on a rock I didn't see. Pearl proceeded without difficulty, though I noticed that she let me break trail.
I could smell the campfire, and if I looked up, I could see the glow of it above the tree line. Finally when I figured I was opposite the place where Luke had seen me last, I got down on my stomach and wriggled closer through the brush.
They were there. Jeannie was still sitting on the ground by the fire. Luke was sort of lying down next to her, propped up on his elbow, drinking from a big mason jar of clear moonshine whiskey. On his belt was a great big bowie knife.
"Got as much right to you as she does," he was saying. "You my flesh and blood, my own flesh and blood."
"You just want me so Mom can't have me," Jeannie said.
"See how she likes it," he said.
"Likes what?"
"See she likes it," Luke mumbled.
He was beyond drunk. I looked at the little camp. The lean-to was held up by rope between two trees. The leftover rope lay loosely at the foot of one tree. There was a lot of it. Under the lean-to I could see a blanket roll. He hadn't bothered to unroll it.
"You sure you don't know who that kid is?" Luke said.
"I don't know who he is," Jeannie said.
"He better not come round here again," Luke said.
"I want to go home," Jeannie said.
"Mind your mouth, girl. You think you too big to whup?"
"I hate you," Jeannie said.
Luke lurched toward her a little and rolled over on his face. He was too drunk to get up.
"Hell with you," he mumbled, and got himself back up on his elbow and drank some more moonshine.
"Hell with you," he said. "Hell with you . . ."
Jeannie didn't speak. She sat with her head down. I waited. In a few minutes Luke began to snore. Jeannie paid no attention to him. I waited a little longer. The snoring persisted. I stood and walked to the edge of the lean-to. Jeannie saw me and her eyes widened. I put my finger to my lips. She didn't move. I pointed to the blanket roll and then to her and jerked my thumb toward the woods behind me. She nodded and got up quietly. He didn't stir, just lay on his side snoring, reeking of moonshine. Jeannie picked up the blanket roll and went into the woods behind the lean-to. I cut off the leftover rope with my jackknife and coiled it around my arm and hand and followed her. I didn't have a plan for the rope. I just thought it might be useful. When we were in the woods, Pearl was sniffing Jeannie and wagging her tail.
"Come on," I said.
Jeannie nodded and I led the way, being a little less careful and going a little faster than I'd come. I could feel, almost hear, my heart thumping in my chest. Little trills of fear flashed in my stomach and along my arms and legs. I was trying to push down the panic that was washing over me. When we got to where the rowboat was, I helped Jeannie get in. Pearl jumped in after Jeannie. I tossed the coil of rope in and got in after it. With Jeannie in the stern and Pearl in the bow, I paddled us with my broken oar, downstream, away from the island.
Chapter 18
I wanted to go upstream, toward home. But I couldn't, against the current, with my one broken oar. I'd have to turn us around eventually, but right now panic was chasing me. All I could think of was to get us away from Luke and his bowie knife.
We stayed in the middle of the river, riding the current. Where the treetops didn't touch, the moonlight showed through and looked really nice reflecting on the surface of the river. It was quiet as it ever gets in the woods. The soft river sound. An occasional frog grunt. Now and then a night bird. And once, I heard a fox bark. Pearl stiffened and pricked her ears and stared at the fox bark for a long time. But no fox appeared and after a while she gave up on it.
"You came after me," Jeannie said.
"Yep."
She didn't say anything. The panic was slowly draining from me as we went downriver. I felt exhausted. And hungry. And thirsty.
"What's in the blanket roll?" I said.
"Some peanut butter," Jeannie said. "And some crackers, and I think a few bottles of Coke or something. I don't know if there's anything else."
"Let's unroll it," I said. "And see."
She did. It was the way she'd described it, plus a big box of Oreo cookies. I gave her my jackknife, and she made us a bunch of cracker and peanut butter sandwiches and handed me back my knife. We each drank a Coke with the crackers.
"Where'd you get the knife?" she said.
"My father gave it to me for my eighth birthday. He said it was a handy thing to carry."
"And you've carried it ever since?"
"Yeah," I said. "Sure."
"Are you scared?" she said.
"Yes."
"Me too," she said. "You don't seem scared."
"I'm trying not to let it run me," I said.
"My father is so awful," she said.
"Yes," I said.
"When I said âhelp' to you in the car, I was thinking maybe you'd get your father or one of your uncles."
"Wish I had," I said.