deep-set eyes, and low forehead, he looked both dangerous and dim-witted. He could be 
dangerous, but he was not stupid. He wrote an amusing column for Black River's weekly 
newspaper, and the quality of thought and language in those pieces would have been a 
credit to any big city newspaper's editorial page. This combination of brute strength and 
unexpected intelligence made Bob a match even for lumbermen much bigger than he was.
  At thirty-five Emma Thorp was still the prettiest woman in Black River. She was a 
green-eyed blonde with a spectacular figure, a combination of beauty and sex appeal that 
had gotten her into the finals of the Miss U.S.A. Contest ten years ago. That achievement 
made her Black River's only genuine celebrity. Her son, Jeremy, was the same age as Mark. 
Jeremy stayed at the Annendale camp for a few days every year. Mark valued him as a 
playmate-but valued him more because his mother was Emma. Mark was deeply in puppy love 
with Emma and mooned around her every chance he got.
  "Are you here on vacation?" Bob asked.
  "Just got in this afternoon."
  Jenny said, "We'd ask you to sit down, but Paul's trying to keep an arm's length from 
everyone who has the flu. If he picked it up, he'd just pass it on to the kids."
  "It's nothing serious," Bob said. "Not the flu, really. Just night chills."
  "Maybe you can live with them," Emma said. "But I think they're pretty serious. I 
haven't had a good sleep all week. They aren't just night chills. I tried to take a nap 
this afternoon, and I woke up shaking and sweating."
  Paul said, "You both look very good."
  "I tell you," Bob said, "it's nothing serious. Night chills. My grandmother used to 
complain of them."
  "Your grandmother complained of everything," Emma said. "Night chills, rheumatiz, the 
ague, hot flashes . .
  Paul hesitated, smiled, and said, "Oh hell, sit down. Let me buy you a drink."
  Glancing at his watch, Bob said, "Thanks, but we really can't. They have a poker game 
in the back room here every Saturday night. Emma and I usually play. They're expecting 
us."
  "You play, Emma?" Jenny asked.
  "Better than Bob does," Emma said. "Last time, he lost fifteen dollars, and I won 
thirty-two."
  Bob grinned at his wife and said, "Tell the truth now. It's not so much skill. It's 
just that when you're playing, most of the men don't spend enough time looking at their 
cards."
  Emma touched the low-cut neckline of her sweater. "Well, bluffing is an important part 
of good poker playing. If the damn fools can be bluffed by some cleavage, then they just 
don't play as well as I do."
  On the way home, ten miles out of Bexford, Paul started to turn off the blacktop road 
onto a scenic overlook that was a favorite lovers' lane.
  "Please, don't stop," Jenny said.
  "Why not?"
  "I want you."
  He put the car in park, half on the road, half off. "And that's a reason not to stop?"
  She avoided looking at him. "I want you, but you aren't the kind of man that can be 
satisfied with just the sex. You want something more from me. It's got to be a deeper 
commitment with you-love, emotion, caring. I'm not up to that part of it."
  Cupping her chin in his hand, he gently turned her face to him. "When you were down to 
Boston in March, you were very changeable. One moment you thought we could make it 
together, and the next moment you thought we couldn't. But then, the last few days, just 
before you went home, you seemed to have made up your mind. You said that we were right 
for each other, that you just needed a little more time." He had proposed to her last 
Christmas. Ever since, in bed and out, he had been trying to convince her that they were 
two halves of an organism, that neither of them could be whole without the other. In 
March, he thought he had made some headway. "Now," he said, "you've changed your mind 
again."
  She took his hand from her chin, and kissed the palm. "I've got to be sure."
  "I'm not like your husband," he said.
  "I know you're not. You're a-"
  "Very nice man?" he asked.
  "I need more time."
  "How much more?"
  "I don't know."
  He studied her for a moment, then put the car in gear and drove back onto the blacktop. 
He switched on the radio.
  A few minutes later she said, "Are you angry?"
  "No. Just disappointed."
  "You're too positive about us," she said. "You should be more careful. You should have 
some doubts like I do."
  "I have no doubts," he said. "We're right for each other."
  "But you should have doubts," she said. "For instance, doesn't it seem odd to you that 
I'm such a physical match for your first wife, for Annie? She was the same build as I am, 
the same size. She had the same color hair, the same eyes. I've seen those photographs of 
her."
  He was a little upset by that. "Do you think I've fallen for you only because you 
remind me of her?"
  "You loved her a great deal."
  "That has nothing to do with us. I just like sexy, dark women." He smiled, trying to 
make a joke of it-both to convince her and to stop himself from wondering if she was at 
least partly right.
  She said, "Maybe."
  "Dammit, there's no maybe about it. I love you because you're you, not because you're 
like anyone else."
  They rode in silence.
  The eyes of several deer glittered in the brush at the side of the road. When the car 
passed, the herd moved. Paul caught a glimpse of them in the rearview mirror-graceful, 
ghostly figures-as they crossed the pavement.
  At last Jenny said, "You're so sure we're meant for each other. Maybe we are-under the 
right circumstances. But Paul, all We've ever shared is good times. We've never known 
adversity together. We've never shared a painful experience. Marriage is
  full of big and little crises. My husband and I were fairly good together too, until 
the crises came. Then we were at each other's throats. I just can't . . . I won't gamble 
my future on a relationship that has never been tested with hard times."
  "Should I start praying for sickness, financial ruin, and bad luck?"
  She sighed and leaned against him. "You make me sound foolish."
  "I don't mean to."
  "I know."
  Back in Black River, they shared one kiss and went to separate rooms to lie awake most 
of the night.
  4