In Reach Read Online Free PDF Page B

says.
    He grins at her, and she sees a flash of the man he once must have been. She suppresses a giggle, throws a leg over the seat, and snuggles behind him. He flips a switch that sputters the engine to life. “Hang on,” he yells. The machine lurches forward. She almost topples off the back, but she grabs at his waist in time. Away they go, following rutted trails, over the jangling cattle gate, alongside the cloying alfalfa, back to the big irrigation ditch, and the whole time she clings to Leland, his body pressed against her heavy breasts, dust clouding her face, thinking she should have worn more sunscreen. Sheer madness, the two of them out there like that, but oh, it’s fun. She laughs out loud, lays her head back, and closes her eyes, the way a girl does who’s swinging high, high, surrendering to the open sky and all the wildness in her.
    After that, they go riding three or four times a week. He calls first. She meets him in the alley. Their favorite time of day is dusk.Sometimes they stop and pick up hamburgers at Hardee’s. They stick the hamburgers and a thermos of coffee in the sidecar, climb on the three-wheeler, and ride across Leland’s land. They stroll through the twilight, past the cattails and the marsh grass, among the nodding goldenrod. They laugh and talk, voices bobbing up and down under the blossoming sky. He drops her in the alley back in town. Nobody knows.
    One day, mid July, the cicadas buzz up a symphony. Heat wobbles in the thick air. Humidity slathers their skin. They pick raspberries, lips and fingers stained red. Juice dribbles down Leland’s chin, and with a quavering thumb, Janet wipes it off. A creek wraps through Leland’s land, and they ride the three-wheeler to the backstretch, hidden from house or road.
    “Janet,” Leland says, still astride the seat. She can’t read his face, but she hears the lightness in his voice. “Have you ever gone wading in a creek?”
    Janet chuckles. “Oh, sure, Leland. Lots of times.”
    Careful to avoid the thorny wild roses, keeping an eye out for poison ivy, they thread their way to the creek bank and lower themselves in the shade of a Russian olive tree. Laughing, they peel off their shoes and socks. She tries not to notice his yellow, ridged toenails. Hopes he doesn’t zero in on the blue veins gorged above her ankles. They each roll up their pant legs. Leland gets first to his hands and knees, then pulls himself to his feet and holds a hand out to her. Worried that the creek bed might be slippery, they cling to each other and step gingerly into the water. It has occurred to her that if he fell or had a heart attack or a stroke, she’d have no way to get help. She doesn’t know how to drive that thing. With her eyesight, she couldn’t find her way back to the house. Eventually Marty would come looking for them, but by then, one or the other could be in a world of hurt. Or dead.
    They feel their way along the creek bed, wincing at sharp rocks, teetering toward one another for balance. The cool water bathesher parched skin. The sandy creek bottom welcomes her poor old feet, as if to say, where have you been all these years?
    They walk straight out into the middle and a few yards along with the creek’s flow, when Leland stops. She stops, too, rather than risk falling over.
    “Janet, have you ever been kissed in a creek?”
    He tosses this remark over his shoulder, his eyes focused on the bank farthest away from her, so if she laughs him off or disapproves, he can pretend he was joking. She sees through his game.
    “No, Leland.” Her voice emerges soft and breathy, no wind left in her. “I don’t believe I have.”
    When he turns to face her, she’s ready for him. His lips are surprisingly soft. She’s not sure what she expected. An old man’s mouth. Dry and chapped. He knows what a good kiss is made of, tender and lingering, and the warmth that spreads through her body, even down there, surprises her. She reaches for him with the