Chapter 9 #3
I inch as close as I dare to the bank, stopping only when the ground beneath my shoes turns soft and mushy. Reaching out as far as I can, I snag hold of the cuff of Julien’s jacket and pull the garment toward me. “Got her!”
Julien gives me a thumbs-up. I bend down and examine the little bird. She’s squawking like we’re trying to kill her, and I’m surprised I hadn’t heard her protests when she’d been snuggled up to Julien’s chest. “She looks okay. Now that the mud on her wings has dried, I think she’s good to go.”
Not wanting to get pecked like Julien, I gently pry the bird out of the pocket. Sure enough, as soon as her wings are free, she flies away, albeit a little wobbly.
“You’re welcome,” Julien calls after her.
He’s smiling when I turn back to him. I’m glad he’s still in a relatively good mood because I’m pretty sure he’s not going to like my next suggestion.
“So,” I begin slowly, “remember when I mentioned you didn’t get stuck as a kid because you weighed less?”
“I do recall a comment made two minutes ago, yes.”
“Sarcasm. Love it.” I lick my lips. “Anywho, it isn’t really the weight but the weight distribution.”
“Okay?”
“Have you ever seen a water strider?”
“I’m really not sure I like where this is going.”
“They use the surface tension of the water and their long legs to walk along the top of the water.”
“I’m surprised to find that I must point out that I am not an aquatic insect.”
“If you distribute your weight along the surface of the mud, you’re less likely to sink, and then you can shimmy your way closer to me until I can reach your hands and help pull you the rest of the way to solid ground.”
He stares at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“Do you have a better idea?” I challenge.
After a moment, he sighs heavily. “Fine. Swamp monster, here I come.” He’s able to spread his legs a little bit, then he lifts his arms out to his sides before eyeing the mud warily. “How do I do this without it being a complete belly flop?”
“There are no points awarded for execution.” I grin.
“You’re enjoying this way too much.”
I smile wider. “Maybe.”
He shakes his head at me, but the corners of his lips twitch again. “Okay, here goes in three, two, one.” He falls forward with a splat. When he lifts his head, the whole left side of his face is covered in mud. “I can’t believe people pay money for this.”
I’m laughing out loud now. I really shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself.
He starts to wiggle and shimmy, but instead of moving forward, he begins to sink. He looks like a bug trying desperately to unstick itself from a flytrap.
A loud snort escapes my nose, and I cover my mouth before I let out the unladylike chortle begging for release.
“If you read about this working in a book somewhere, the author lied to you,” Julien grumbles.
I try to stop laughing long enough to catch my breath. “If you could see yourself.”
“I hate to take you away from your entertainment, but if you could collect yourself long enough to come up with another plan, preferably a better one, it would be much appreciated.”
I snicker again but then spot a fallen limb that looks to be long enough to reach him now that he’s about six feet closer to me because of his prone position.
“Here. Grab this.” I hold the branch out to him.
“I do believe pulling me in with the aid of a stick was my original suggestion. One you shot down, I might add.”
“I don’t think it would’ve worked before, but you can say ‘I told you so’ when we get you out, if that’ll make you feel better.”
“The only thing liable to make me feel better at this moment is a hot shower and clean clothes.”
He wraps his fingers around the end of the branch.
When his hold is secure, I lean back and dig in my heels, using my weight to my advantage.
He barely moves, but he does move, so I tighten my grip and give another hard pull.
A few more and he pushes himself up to standing.
Mud sloughs off him in weighted clumps, melting off his face like a wax museum in a heat wave and oozing out of his shoes. He’s right. He is a swamp monster now.
I don’t know what possesses me, but I reach out and swipe a glob of mud from his lapel and then smear it on the cleaner side of his face. “You missed a spot.”
“You are the embodiment of helpfulness. I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I did not return the favor.” He reaches for me, but I duck under his arm with a shriek and a laugh.
“Martha!” Dad’s voice calls from the direction of the house. From the volume, it sounds as if he’s about to cross the dried creek bed along the trail.
Julien and I stare at each other, his blue irises popping in color against the brown silt clinging to his skin. My eyes widen as I suddenly realize I’ve just been flirting with Julien King. Even though flirting has never been natural to me. No time to analyze that little surprise nugget right now.
Julien rubs the back of his neck, then pulls his hand away and looks down at it in disgust. “I’m going to go clean up.
Thanks for your ‘help.’” He uses air quotes with that last word and gives me a smirk.
“I’ll see you at the airport on Tuesday.
” With that, he walks toward the second trail that leads back to the main house.