The next morning, Joanna woke up early. Clay and Sheila were still sleeping. Joanna looked over at Clay, lying on his stomach, half in and half out of his sleeping bag. He'd taken off his shirt during the night. In the morning light, he looked vulnerable--eyes closed and long red lashes trembling as he breathed the slow breaths of sleep. The back of his neck was sunburned, and she saw he had freckles not only on his cheeks but across his back. And there was the much remembered hair on his forearms, exposed to her now for a glorious close-up view. Joanna lay there for she wasn't sure how long, content to look at Clay in the strange golden light created by the morning sun passing through the tent's yellow fabric. At last Clay stirred. He opened his eyes and smiled when he saw Joanna. "Good morning," he mouthed.

Joanna motioned that she was going outside. Grabbing her pack, she unzipped the tent, stuck her feet out to find her sandals, and stepped outside.

Clay put on his glasses and lay back, looking at the yellow roof above him. A black speck--a bug on the outside of the tent--moved slowly across the nylon ceiling. There had been something wonderful about waking up to find Joanna watching him. She had not looked away when he opened his eyes but had gazed at him calmly and--did he imagine it?--longingly, and then given him a crinkle-eyed smile. He wondered if she were coming back or was up for good--it was still so early--and decided to go find her. He pulled on his flannel shirt, stepped over Sheila, and exited the tent.

Joanna had changed into her turquoise swimsuit for a visit to the waterfall. Camping was all well and good, but she felt like she needed a bath. Her two piece swimsuit was the popular tankini style--the top came down to just above the bottoms, leaving only a ribbon of midriff exposed. As Clay approached, she threw a jacket over her shoulders.

"Ahh, off to the waterfall?" asked Clay. Joanna had let her hair out of the braid, and it cascaded over her shoulders and down across her breasts. She looked much as she had that moonlit night by the river, only then she'd had on even fewer clothes. Clay noticed the band of pale, exposed stomach, and had an urge to slide his hand over Joanna's belly, move it up beneath her suit, and stroke the underside of her breast.

Joanna looked at him expectantly, and Clay realized she'd just asked him a question.

"What was that?" he asked.

"Do you want to come too?" repeated Joanna. "To the waterfall?"

"Sure," he agreed. He would follow her anywhere. Shouldering towels, they walked together up the ridge trail. At this early hour, they would have the waterfall to themselves.

"If we work hard today and tomorrow morning, we should be able to hike out tomorrow afternoon," said Clay. "And then we can take real showers," he added. "Warm showers."

"Is the water that cold?" asked Joanna.

"Not freezing, but brisk. You'll be glad you have your jacket for after. And standing under the waterfall has a certain charm, or so people say."

Joanna realized then that Clay had never been in the waterfall, what the others had described to her as a 'not to be missed' experience. Most likely his water phobia again. But he really wasn't as water wary as she'd first thought and as the others seemed to think. Maybe he just needed encouragement.

"I can't wait to see it," said Joanna. "C'mon, let's race." And she took off up the trail, running ahead before Clay could respond.

Race? Well, why not? thought Clay and gave pursuit. Joanna had a head start, but with his long legs, he easily gained on her. He let her stay just ahead.

Joanna turned off the ridge trail onto the side path leading to the waterfall, thankful the uphill climb was over. She was panting as she ran down the trail. The branches slapped at her arms and legs. She glanced behind and shrieked--Clay was almost upon her. There was something thrilling about being chased by Clay; it brought back memories of being chased by the boys during first grade recess.

At last she reached the clearing and saw the waterfall. She stopped and Clay slid to a halt beside her.

"Beautiful," she panted, looking at the splashing water, the mossy rocks, the red flowers. "Postcard material." They were both breathing heavily.

"I'm exhausted," she added and flopped down on the grass to take off her sports sandals. They piled their clothes and towels together, and Clay laid his glasses carefully on top.

Clay, in his running shorts, and Joanna, in her swimsuit, approached the pond. Clay squatted down, cupped some water in his hands and brought it to his face, eyes closed. Joanna watched as the water dripped down his cheeks and chin, which were covered with the new red fuzz of a day's growth of beard.

Joanna waded out into the shallow pool, splashing water on her arms and legs. "It's not too cold," she said.

"Wait for the waterfall," said Clay. "It's colder."

Joanna turned and waded through the ankle deep pool to the base of the waterfall. Here it was louder, and the splash of water on the rocks made a fine mist that rose into the air. Joanna stepped up onto a large rock that received much of the falling water. She looked back at Clay and smiled, and then stepped under the stream of water. She let the cool water flow over her body. She closed her eyes, held her head back, and allowed the water to stream through her hair. It was cold, but bearable.

Clay watched Joanna in the natural shower of the falls. He felt a bit the voyeur, watching Joanna bathe from a distance. Her wet swimsuit clung to her and outlined every curve in her body. She was so small, so perfect. Her dark hair seemed even longer now that it was wet; it reached almost to her waist. Joanna moved through the water and disappeared. And then came out again.

"Clay," she called. "Have you been up here?"

He shook his head.

"Not in the waterfall, I mean behind. There's a place behind the falls, big enough to sit. Did you know that?"

"No," he said, raising his voice to be heard over the water. "No, I didn't."

"Do you want to see? You don't have to go in the falls, just come around the side."

Clay had somehow known it would come to this when Joanna asked if he wanted to come along with her to the falls. With a feeling of inevitability, he began to walk through the pool toward Joanna. The water dragged at his feet. Even though he didn't intend to stand under the falls, the sound of the water still bothered him, and it got louder the closer he got to Joanna. He could hear nothing else. He wished she would say something to distract him, like she had on their hike up the river trail.

Joanna watched Clay approach. He was so pale--was he going to be sick? When she had discovered the hollow behind the falls, she had called out to him, intending only to share her delight. But maybe this had not been a good idea. His eyes were drawn wide, like a frightened deer or horse, ready to bolt. As he splashed closer, he seemed to flinch, and then he tossed his head, as if to rid himself of the sound. At last, he stepped up onto the stone and stood next to her, well away from the tumbling water.

"Don't listen," said Joanna, realizing how much the noise of the water bothered him. "Don't listen to the water." And she reached up and covered his ears with her hands. "Better?" she asked.

But Clay didn't hear her. With the rush of the water pushed into the background, he saw Joanna's lips move and her eyes look up at him expectantly. He saw her dark hair dripping, the rise and fall of her chest, and her breasts outlined under the clinging fabric of the swimsuit. He saw the shower of water behind her and the mist rising from where the water collided with the stones. All this he saw in an instant that expanded and revealed details usually left unnoticed. Like a sparkling droplet of water on Joanna's eyelash, or the delicate star shape of the tiny white flowers that decorated the moss that covered the stones. Joanna's lips moved again, but he couldn't hear. He bent down, his ears still cradled in her hands, and kissed her gently on the lips. Joanna let her hands drop to his shoulders, and Clay drew her toward him in the embrace they had both been waiting for.

Joanna gasped with the shock and delight of their bodies coming together. They stood there for one minute, two, who knows how long, until she pulled Clay behind the waterfall and gestured, "See?" Clay, who had his face buried in Joanna's neck, vaguely noticed the large flat stone covered with spongy moss in the hollow in back of the falls. He pulled Joanna down to sit beside him on the moss. He kissed her again and slipped his hand under her suit and moved his palm across her stomach. She thrilled to his touch as he drew his hand over her belly. He lowered her to the ground and lay on top of her, pausing just a moment to look into her eyes.

Joanna came to that perfect moment, that moment when both a woman's body and mind acquiesce and give themselves over to the man. Clay felt Joanna relax beneath him, as if in welcome, and he kissed her hard. They lay there stretched behind the falls, oblivious to the water splashing down on their legs.

"Good morning, campers," rang out a voice, interrupting the pair. Clay rolled over onto his back and lay next to Joanna, his feet sticking out beyond the falls. Clay looked at Joanna, shook his head, and sighed. He had heard K.C.'s wake up call every morning for the last two months, ever since K.C. had been assigned as the junior counselor to Clay's cabin of 8 year old boys. What the hell was he doing out at the falls so early in the morning? Without hesitation--why had this waterfall ever bothered him?--Clay ducked through the curtain of cascading water to greet K.C., and found Carrie there too. He stepped down off the stone and walked over to where they stood in the grass next to his and Joanna's towels.

"Good morning to you too. You're up early," said Clay.

"Likewise," said K.C. Clay picked up his towel, dried his hair and chest, and put on his glasses.

Joanna had gasped as Clay strode out through--not around--the waterfall. Then she smiled. Who was this guy, this man, scared one moment to come near the water, and on top of her the next, pressing her down into the moss with the water drumming on his legs? She came out from behind the waterfall. "Hi," she called to the others.

Carrie, dressed in a pale yellow bathing suit that perfectly suited her honey colored hair and deep tan, climbed up onto the stone and stood underneath the water. Joanna joined her and the two rinsed off.

K.C. and Clay stood together, watching the girls bathe. "Bad timing?" asked K.C.

Clay glared at him. "Don't ask."

"You amaze me, Gonzo. A few nights ago I find you sitting next to the river without your life jacket on--a first in the three years I've known you. Then Carrie tells me you and Joanna hiked up here on the river trail. And now I find you soaked to the bone and wallowing under the waterfall."

K.C. gestured toward Joanna. "She's that mysterious 'someone' you mentioned, isn't she?" Clay didn't answer. "Well, all I can say, buddy, is great. Congrats. About the water and all that." He paused. "And sorry about the interruption."

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this story was written in May 2003; copyright Elena Felsig

this page was last updated 5/16/03