And that made her wonder whether he understood how big of a difference he made in the lives of others. Whether he ever lay in bed at night and thought about the people who were alive because of him.
Or if, like last night, he fell asleep and dreamed only of the times he’d failed.
21
The thought of navigating the next stretch of river made him sick. It wasn’t that Mikhail couldn’t navigate it. It was that he wanted to be in both canoes at once.
“Stay to the right side, where the water is shallowest.” From his position on the riverbank, he pointed toward the far side of the canyon. After about an hour of paddling, they’d pulled out of the river and beached their canoes on a little stretch of sand just south of the canyon, allowing them to study the angry, white rapids crashing between the towering cliffs. Most of the Iskut River lay in a giant, wide valley, with the mountains set back a half mile or so from the shoreline. But not this part.
“Is this where we would have come out had we kept following the gorge we found inland?” Bryony craned her neck toward the narrow strip of water that sliced through hundreds of feet of cold, jagged rock face.
“I can’t be certain without going back and following the gorge, but I believe so, yes. There’s another river that meets this one in the middle of the cliffs, which is part of what makes the rapids so dangerous.”
“So had we followed the gorge, we would have ended up at the top of those cliffs without any canoes to get us back to the mouth of the river?” Dr. Wetherby surveyed the cliffs towering above them.
“Yes. And we still would have needed to traverse the gorge to get back to the canoes.”
“I have to admit, it’s beautiful.” Bryony was studying the canyon so thoroughly, he was certain he’d see a sketch of it in her journal tomorrow.
“Yes, it’s beautiful.” His throat turned dry. “But capsizing in those rapids can be deadly, especially given the freezing temperature.”
Bryony turned and looked at him then, her eyes so serious that Mikhail found himself dropping his gaze.
He’d forgotten just how much he’d told her about Livy. They hadn’t been navigating rapids in a canoe when she died, just trying to cross a river. But the effect of falling into the river was the same either way—hypothermia.
“All right, stick to the right side of the river.” Dr. Wetherby gave a determined nod. “We understand.”
Mikhail wanted to ask if they’d ever done anything like this before. At the beginning of the expedition, the team of botanists would have needed to traverse this stretch of river, but they would have been going upstream, and the canoes would have moved much slower as they fought against the current. Heading downstream carried a greater risk of having a wild current catch the canoe.
“Does anyone have any questions?” He surveyed the group, then stopped when he reached Heath, who would be in charge of steering the second canoe.
Heath’s eyes met his for a brief moment, flat and bored. “Can’t say I’m that concerned. We made it through here just fine on the way in.” He shrugged, then walked back to the canoe.
Mikhail pressed his lips together. Heath had been short and cold with him ever since Richard’s death. It was probably Heath’s way of grieving, but they could all do without the extra tension. The temperature was plummeting faster than he’d expected for the time of year. And if they were going to reach Wrangell before the river froze, he needed everyone working together. Otherwise they’d have to camp in the wilderness for two or possibly three weeks until the river iced over before they could travel on it.
“Don’t let Heath bother you.” Bryony came up to stand beside him, her hair a wild mess of waves that she hadn’t fully brushed that morning. “He’s still processing Richard’s death, but we’ll do what you say and make it through the rapids. I promise.”
“Thank you.” It was a small promise, but for some reason her words warmed a place deep inside him. He opened his mouth to ask how she’d slept last night, if she’d had any nightmares filled with Tlingit warriors.
But Heath’s voice cut through the air. “Bryony! Stop lollygagging and get in the canoe.”
Bryony tore her gaze away from his and headed toward where her brother and Dr. Ottingford were already in the canoe, ready to push off the shore and into the river.
His chest tightened as he watched her climb into the front of the canoe and grab the paddle.
She’s not Livy.She handled herself expertly in the canoe yesterday. She’ll be all right.
But knowing that still didn’t make his chest loosen as he climbed into his own canoe with Dr. Wetherby and pushed off the bank.
The current caught them immediately, trying to tug them forward, into the center of the river. He dug his paddle into the water and fought against the current, keeping to the right side of the river as he’d instructed.
Heath’s canoe bobbed ahead of him, sticking to the eastern shore. The moment it entered the narrow canyon, white-capped waves crashed against the sides. Then the canoe hit its first wave straight on and tilted slightly, but Heath quickly corrected, keeping the canoe on the side of the river where the water was shallowest and the nose pointed downstream.
“Good job!” Mikhail called as his own canoe entered the canyon. “Remember to keep her to the right and her nose straight.”
Heath gave no indication he heard Mikhail over the roar of the river, but the other man slowed the heavily laden canoe so it inched through the turbulent water.
A wave caught Mikhail’s own canoe, splashing Dr. Wetherby at the front. The man groaned but kept paddling.
