Wolf Point by Edward Falco Read Free Book Online Page A

to follow.
    At the Rover, T tried to wake Lester, gave up, and then turned his attention to finding a lightweight hooded jacket he knew was somewhere in the vehicle. He found it next to his suitcase and put it on.
    Jenny shouted in Lester’s ear. “Asshole!” she screamed. “Wake up!”
    Lester partially sat up. “All right, all right,” he mumbled. “Jesus. Give me a second.” Then he lay down again and closed his eyes.
    “The hell with him,” Jen said. “Let him sleep out here.” She slammed the door and started up the hill for the cabin, then turned around after a few steps and came back for her purse in the front seat. “Are you going to stand there looking at him?” she asked T, who had one foot up on the frame in the open back door and was looking down at Lester, trying to decide what to do with him.
    T closed the door and stood a moment in the dark watching Jenny as she started again to climb the hill. The red of her pants deepened to wine in the moonlight as she moved with long, angry steps through the black moon shadows of tree branches. His sweater was huge on her and hung loosely from her shoulders. Her pants were molded to her body. A gust ofwind off the river ruffled her hair, and she turned around in a pool of moonlight. T was still standing by the Rover, watching her. She looked down at him for several long seconds, her hands on her hips at first, then crossed in front her, watching him watch her.
    T hesitated a second longer before he grabbed her backpack, and then went around the car and climbed the hill.
    “I must seem like a real bitch to you,” she said, turning to continue toward the cabin as he joined her, “the way I’m doing Les.”
    “Not really, “he said.
    She stopped at the top of the hill and looked out over the water. “It’s beautiful here. Isn’t it?” She gestured to the wide expanse of moonlit river below them.
    T stepped in front of her, closer to the ridge, and crouched down, touching the grass with his open hand as he looked below to the Saint Lawrence. “I used to come here as a young man,” he said. “When I was in college.”
    “Where’d you go?” she asked, then crouched alongside him and pointed down the hill. “Is that a boat?”
    T didn’t see the boat at first but then found it nestled between a pair of rocks, its bow snug against the shore. It was an old V-hull aluminum, fourteen-, maybe sixteen-footer. No oars, no engine. “Looks like it,” he said, and he stood and took her arm lightly, continuing toward the cabin.
    Jenny leaned into him, as if nuzzling against him for warmth. “So where’d you go to college?” she asked again.
    “Syracuse University,” T said. He put his arm around her.
    “You’re sweet,” she said.
    “I’m counting my blessings,” he answered cryptically, not sure himself exactly what he meant.
    At the cabin door, Jenny rummaged through her purse, found a key, and struggled with the lock for several seconds before the mechanism finally relented with a dull click. T reached around her, turned the knob, and pushed open the door.
    “Shit.” She flipped a light switch several times with no effect. “Too much to hope for,” she said. She looked back to T. “You bummed?”
    “About what? No electricity?” He moved past her into the living room and tossed her backpack onto the cushions of a rustic wood-frame couch, sending up a small mushroom cloud of dust.
    “Jesus Christ,” Jenny said, closing the door. “The place is filthy. And it’s cold.”
    “It’s not bad,” he said. “Why don’t you see if there’s blankets and bedding?” He went into the kitchen and tried the sink. “We’ve got running water,” he called as Jenny disappeared down the hallway.
    “Plenty of bedding,” her voice came back to him. Then she appeared in the kitchen doorway holding an armful of blankets and sheets. “Will you stay?”
    “Sure. Why not?” He turned the kitchen faucet on and off. “No hot water,