The Wilderness

Uh, what did we discuss I wondered? Linda winked at me.

"......... since this is the last night, I think you've earned the right to a night of freedom. See that beach, behind you on the other shore," as the group turned in unison to see what she was pointing at, "I want you girls......sorry, 'women'....... to set up your own camp over there. The adults will stay here. Remember, you're being given this privilege because you've earned it. DON'T MAKE ME REGRET IT! Nothing dangerous or stupid, you hear! We'll be watching from here."

As excited whispers swept through the young crowd, Linda dramatically turned to the mothers and announced, "Ladies. Shall we set up camp? Daisy, didn't you say there were a couple boxes of wine left? It would be a shame for them to go to waste!", as Linda picked up her pack and walked to a high, flat clearing near the tree line.

Just like the girls free of adult oversight, the promise of carefree evening without child supervision caused any remaining hesitation in the mothers to evaporate. I guess I should not have been surprised, but it was amusing how quickly the girls organized themselves, raided the last of the snack foods and treats from the pantry and launched five canoes across the lake, their laughter and shrieking actually getting louder, the further away they got. Had I timed it, I bet they were pushing off in under three minutes.

As we adults feasted later that evening on the few remaining food items.....mostly peanut butter and crackers, some moldy cheese and odd-tasting pepperoni sticks..... the wine boxes were retrieved. The mothers, after a few concerned looks over at the bonfire twinkling a quarter mile away, lost no time in getting tipsy, reflecting on the adventure and, surprisingly, some regret to be returning to civilization.

Around our own modest fire, the women progressed from buzzed to unquestionably drunk, as Linda turned to me and quietly said,

"It's our last night. Go. I've got this."

Turning back to the group, Linda dramatically complained, "Jen! You greedy bitch! Are you going to hog that whole box!?!?".

Needing no additional encouragement, the guys and I stood and walked toward 'our' tent. Just outside the ring of fire light, Bo reached for my hand. A storm of emotion was swirling inside me, realizing how precious the remaining few hours, minutes and seconds were before the sunrise brought a new chapter in my life. Was it to be the end, or a new beginning, I didn't know.

Entering the tent, I lunged at Bo, kissing him and clutching his body to mine, desperate to forget the fears tomorrow would bring. As Bo tried to speak, I placed my fingers on his mouth to silence him, shaking my head at him as tears began to flow from my burning eyes.

"Bo. I'm afraid. Afraid of what tomorrow will bring. But tonight, I need to hold on to what we have. For just one more night. Please baby. Just give me one more night. Make love to me, and hold me......",

Which he proceeded to do. It was gentle, and loving, and quiet. In my 34-years, I'd never known such bittersweet bliss.

Davey had excused himself to give us some privacy. Afterward, Bo and I mused that he might have gone back to join the women. They we so drunk and, from their increasingly candid comments, so horny, that we speculated he could have had his choice of any of them.... or all them.

I'd seen their barely concealed hungry gazes at the boys over the last few days. A couple times it had been almost embarrassing as the guys, bared chested, sweating, and muscles straining, had pulled all the canoes over a shallow section of river. Most of the women had looked on, the lust in their eyes, obvious. Linda had even noticed it and shook her head.

Suddenly many of the mothers were tripping over themselves to volunteer helping the guy's load and unload the freight canoe during overnights stops. Thinking back to the atmosphere around tonight's campfire, I didn't think it would take too much to trigger a full orgy, if the comments about pent-up desires were to be believed.

Leaving my sleeping lover, I pulled-on my inherited Sponge Bob t-shirt and left the tent to pee. All was quiet over at the fire ring, only the glowing orange embers signaling the women had called it a night.

Returning to our tent, I walked around the front to find Davey sitting cross legged near the waterline, staring out at the full moon reflecting on the lake. Hearing me approach, his head half-turned as I kneeled behind him and threw my arms around his shoulders to hug him.

"Thank You. Thank You David Dwayne Thompson, the 3^rd. You've helped make this the most amazing time in my life. I love you."

Gently caressing my forearms, he remained silent, an odd tension in the air.

Walking around, I squatted in front of him, looking him in the eyes.

"Are you OK?", I asked as I noticed a single tear escape his otherwise stony face.

"Shhhhhhhhhh. Don't cry. It's all going to be OK. I, too, am confused. Terrified, in fact, at what is to come. But only tomorrow will bring those answers."

Facing him I sat down on his lap, my thumb wiping away the lone tear and then sweeping the contours of his face with my fingertips. Leaning in I gently kissed his lips. Initially not responding, I looked into his eyes again and smiled, eventually drawing out the slightest of reluctant grins from him as I leaned back in to kiss him again, this time his strong response and my own excitement surprising me.

It felt like we kissed for hours. It wasn't the forceful, lip crushing, teeth bumping, lustful frenzy of times prior. Neither was it the chaste peck-on-a-closed-mouth of platonic friends. It was active, wet, and sloppy, with occasional probing of tongues. It was a single sensuous point of contact that fanned the flames of the fire building in me.

Stopping to breath a moment, I looked curiously at him and then, with slow deliberation, lifted the t-shirt up and over my head, throwing it aside. Reach down between us, I felt his hard erection and squeezed its girth a couple times in wonder. Fishing it out through the opening of his boxers, I felt the warm, firm, softness of it, stroking it gently, as Davey closed his eyes and groaned, lost in the feeling.

Abruptly opening his eyes, he looked questioningly at me.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I love and need you too. I want to show you how much."

With nothing more to say, I braced an arm behind me and lifted my hips, guiding his swollen manhood toward my burning sex. After a tentative couple swipes to make sure we were both ready, I lowered myself onto him, a low satisfied groan escaping from both of us.

Like our kissing, I started a calm and steady rocking on him, wrapping my legs and arms around his torso. Holding on to him, I watched captivated as each expression of pleasure and desire danced across his face, as my hips undulated in his lap.

Noticing my own building delight, I tried to ignore it, this time wanting only to witness and remember each second of the pleasure I was giving him. This moment was about him. My friend. My lover. A small thanks for the many selfless gestures and sacrifices he'd made since the day we met.

As with the kissing, our lake-side coupling seemed to last and last, unrushed and undefined, maintaining a steady level of intensity and heat to our mutual joy. After a period of timeless love-making, I began to feel his body transform from relaxed repose to increasingly tense rigor.

"Taylor!............", uttered Davey in a strained voice.

"It's OK. I want you to let yourself go. I'm here with you."

His hands grasped my hips, the tempo increasing subtly as I felt him thrust just a little deeper and just a little harder, unable to fight hereditary forces to implant his seed deep into a breeding mate. Looking at each other, I watched the rising turmoil and then sudden relief in his eyes as I felt him swell in me, his breath hitching as the muscles of his body spasmed with his ejaculation.

To my shock, despite my intention of reveling in only his climax, I was surprised by a gentle orgasm of my own suddenly suffusing my body with a warm wave of pleasure. I heard my own groan of relief as my steady rocking came to a slow stop. Our bodies now still, I could feel the fleeting sensation of his occasional throbbing in me as I held him tight, my breasts crushed between us as our heavy breathing signaled the physical experience we'd shared.

Entwined for another few minutes, I felt him soften while I kissed Davey tenderly one last time before climbing off him. Standing before him in the moonlight, I watched him stare at my crotch as I felt a large glob of his semen leak from me, a curious look of pride and satisfaction on his face. It was a look that all women recognized, but could not fully understand. A man's deep-engrained evolutionary need to implant and propagate his DNA. I was tempted to step into the lake to clean myself, but realized how that innocent act held greater significance to a man than I might realize. I didn't want him to feel he was any less important that Bo, by washing the physical signs of his manhood away.

Reaching my hand to him, I helped him stand as we walked back to our tent. Inside I curled up against the sleeping Bo, pulling Davey up against me, the warmth of their bodies lulling me to sleep immediately.

Safely dressed and at our cooking station early the next morning, I'd successfully navigated the last opportunity to 'get caught'. Even as the girls returned from their overnight adventure .....an hour late..... most of the mothers had still refused to emerge from their tents until Linda started yelling and shaking tent poles to rouse them. I smirked as Linda, herself looking rather rough, had emerged from her tent, an unknown bare torso curled up in a sleeping bag visible through the open flap. I wondered who'd succumbed to her tender touches.

With nothing appetizing left to eat but lots of scalding strong black coffee, I'd never seen such a miserable and hung-over group of middle-aged women as they huddled around the empty serving table. Few even turned to notice when one of them suddenly rushed off to vomit on the sand a few feet away. The girls looked on, a combination of shock, scorn, and vindication. I suspect few of them had ever seen their parents this way.

Load Up and Push Off was a brief affair. Finally underway, we paddled through lunch......since there was nothing left to eat......and recognized the first signs of civilization as we entered the 'big lake', home to the grandpa Dave's summer camp and a few private vacation homes.

Picking up the pace, the girls pushed on ahead, excited by the sounds of air horns, cheering crowds, balloons and banners which could be seen on the shore. Since the mothers were barely making headway, the guys and I hung back to make sure the last stragglers made it the final half-mile.

Closer and closer we got, now able to see the large crowd and make out the just-arrived girls hugging various people on shore. I realized that many of the fathers and families had come to greet them after their life-altering adventure, which was confirmed when one of the women in the next canoe recognized her husband with a painful groan. Around me, women began to comically wrangle stray hair, straighten their filthy clothes and splash handfuls of lake water on their faces in a futile attempt to freshen up. Despite my cynical snigger, I admit that I covertly pushed back a few strands behind my ear and buttoned-up the shirt I'd been wearing undone all day, renewed awareness of my mostly-ignored bosom of the last week, causing some awkwardness.

Paddles set down for the last time, we coasted the last ten feet to shore, grinding up onto the beach. Davey jumped out of the bow of the canoe into knee-deep water and grabbed his waiting grandfather into a bear-hug I knew well. I sat looking around me, a bit shellshocked and incredulous at everything that had happened over the last three weeks.

We'd made it, safe and sound.

Finding Bo standing in the water beside me, he reached in and lifted me by my waist out of the canoe with seemingly little effort. Overwhelmed by the joyous emotions of our homecoming, I wrapped my arms and legs around Bo like a child as he carried me up onto the dry sand.

Setting me down, we didn't let go of the other's hands as we looked into each other's eyes with a combination of joy and despair. I desperately wanted to kiss him.....one last time. I didn't care if anyone noticed. But for the sake of my school, Grandpa Dave and his summer camp....and Bo ad Davey..... I didn't. One last frozen look of longing was all I would allow myself. Looking into Bo's eyes, I saw that he understood.

And then, I turned and saw him.

Paul.

In the dispersing crowd, my husband stood, looking at me in confused shock. In his hand was a large yellow and red envelope of a DHL Express International Priority package.

Looking between me and Bo, his gaze came to rest on my hand entwined with Bo's. With blinding clarity, I understood that this moment was about to change everything about my life. Either my return to my previous life, or the beginning of a new life. I gripped Bo's hand, not out of fear, but fearful that he would try to release mine. I needed his strength at this moment.

Staring at Bo, Paul's gaze returned to me. I saw pain, fear, and anger. And for that, I did feel genuine regret. No matter what our problems had been, I believed he'd always acted with commitment and sincerity. But I realized that, at least for me, that wasn't enough. Not anymore.

With vacant disbelief, he turned and walked up the hill toward the main camp, letting the large envelope slip from his hand onto the hillside as he went. I knew I needed to talk to him. To try to explain. To try to decide, together, what happened next.

After a quick look at Bo, he released my hand and said to me,

"You must go. You must speak to him. I understand. Go".

Conflicted, I hurried after Paul, calling out his name. Pausing to pick the DHL envelope, I briefly looked down. It was addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Paul Wilson, from the office of Citizenship and Consular Services of the United States Embassy in Turkey. Our daughter's adoption and immigration visa approval.

Choaking and blinded by tears, I looked up to find that Paul was nowhere to be seen.

CHAPTER 12

That afternoon, after a Welcome Home celebration BBQ, the girls and women piled into various luxury cars and SUVs and left for home. Many, I noticed, with the windows open. I'm sure most of these affluent and influential men had never seen their trophy wives and beauty-queen daughters looking and smelling as they did.

Bo and Davey quickly emersed themselves in unloading, cleaning, and putting away gear and canoes. Every once in a while, I would catch Bo looking at me as Grandpa Dave, Linda and I sat under a picnic pavilion doing paperwork.

Honestly, I don't remember much of what we discussed, other than an envelope containing a check being thrust into my hands. What I do remember was finding myself soaking in a steaming hot bubble bath a few hours later in Mary's cabin. Despite the relaxing music, a dozen candles basking the bathroom in a calming glow and the scent of lavender conditioner setting in my hair, I wept quietly in misery. Mary sat perched on the side of the tub, gently squeezing water over my shoulders from a sponge. I told her everything.

The next day, I drove home. This time, the absurdity of the joyous drive up was offset by my dread on the drive home.

Paul's car wasn't in the driveway when I pulled up. The house was dark. A note awaited me on the kitchen counter explaining that he wasn't ready to talk yet. Beside it was a vase full of now-wilted flowers, most of the brown petals having fallen off. In the fridge was a bottle of champagne and a bow-wrapped box from my favorite bakery. This wasn't the home-coming either of us had planned.

Upstairs, our bedroom was dark and quiet as I walked into our soon-to-be-daughter's room. In my absence Paul had painted the walls a pale yellow with a cheerful flower boarder. Flat-pack boxes of children's furniture sat leaning against a wall, some opened with various parts and instructions littering the floor.

In the weeks to come, we talked......kind of. Initially it was via our respective family members and friends. And then lawyers.

If I'm brutally honest with myself, I didn't try hard very hard. I guess I should have attempted to save my marriage, but in truth I knew there was nothing to save. I'd done what I'd done. No explanation could change that. Either Paul could forgive me. Or he couldn't.

Moreover, my feelings, about myself..... and about Paul.... were different now. In the clarity of being back in our house, alone and emotionally spent, all the 'little issues' that had plagued our marriage seemed to grow in severity and hopelessness. Had we been fooling ourselves all these years?

Our house didn't feel like a home and my shattered feelings were less about the sorrow of what I'd lost, but what I was missing. Like a lightning-bolt of clarity, I admitted to myself that I didn't love Paul....'Love' as I now understood the feeling and emotion to be. Maybe I never really had?

It wasn't his fault. But it was the truth, nonetheless. I tried to explain this in a long letter to Paul that I included with my signed divorce decree.

Bo and I didn't speak for three weeks after my return home. I learned he was desperate to hear my voice, but realized I needed time and space. Not knowing my situation at home, he even feared emailing. For all he knew, I was home desperately trying to save my marriage. Or fearful that ANY little reminder of my transgression might set off Paul's fury, or worse!

The day I nervously dialed his mobile phone, I listened in terror as it rang and rang and rang. Hearing his tentative "Taylor?" when he finally picked up made my heart leap, gasping for air, having held my breath in dread. From that day onward we spoke on the phone multiple times every day.

Due to my age and pregnancy history, my doctor (and former boss) ran a battery of tests. Included was a paternity test which confirmed that Bo was the father. I was relieved and sad at the same time.

Later that day I was on the phone with Bo and texted him a picture the latest sonogram of our child. Hearing nothing from him for a whole minute I feared the call had been dropped, until I heard him crying in the background. Sitting alone in my house, unable to hold him at our joyous news, I'd never felt so together with him, yet so alone.

Around this time, I resigned from my teaching job. I don't think word had gotten out yet, but it would. Facing my colleagues would be bad enough. But facing my students would be worse.

For a while, my extended family and friends were overjoyed at my pregnancy and tried very hard to accept the circumstances behind it. But I could tell the situation was a simmering timebomb.

Five months in, my pregnant belly now showing, I visited some of my long-time childhood friends to share the latest sonogram pictures and catch-up. I'd just started to feel the baby moving on a regular basis. Sitting around a friend's living room, in a moment of candor my best friend from high school wondered aloud how dark the baby would be. All conversation in the room stuttered to a halt, as I stared at her in disbelief! No one spoke for minutes, but I could tell everyone wondered the same. I stood and walked out of the house, never to speak to them again. Ever.

That weekend, I put the house that I'd gotten in the divorce up of sale and moved into Bo's apartment in a college town 300 miles away. By then I was getting huge and felt uncomfortable and ugly. But Bo was my savior. He waited on me hand and foot, and my fears settled as we spent long nights talking about our future together, he clearly wanting to be part of the baby's and my life. He even insisted on making love to me almost every day and we enjoyed a level of affection, mutual respect, and sexual connection that I'd never imagined possible.