She gasped as he flung himself into the wide expanse of sky. He curled over and stretched his arms out, making the long dive, hands first into the water below.
Dan popped up and clapped as he watched Wes take the plunge. The ripples where Wes disappeared into the water spread out, creating an ever-widening circle in the calm lake.
Crystal watched, waiting, the smile slowly falling from her face. Her heart spasmed, and she saw Dan’s own features far below warping into a grimace as he scanned the water for Wes.
She clenched her hands and stepped to the edge, still desperately searching for Wes, sure he’d hit the bottom, broken his arms, or worse, his neck.
Panicked, she jumped.
As she fell, Wes popped up, a few yards out, his wet hair a shade darker against the blue water.
He lifted a hand to wave, but she’d already leapt from the cliff. She flailed for a moment before sticking her legs together, falling fast, and slicing through the water feet first.
When she broke the surface, Wes paddled to her, grinning.
“Let’s do it again,” he beamed.
She smiled, heart crashing in her ears, as she wrapped her arms around his slick neck and hugged him.
They ate hot dogs and marshmallows by the bonfire. Dan regaled them with spooky stories of a man-sized crow that stalked the Upper Peninsula woods feeding on the hearts of cruel men.
“I’m going to head back to the yurt,” Weston whispered in her ear. “Wait five minutes and join me?”
“What are you up to?” she asked, nuzzling her face into his beard.
“Who, me?” he asked, feigning innocence. “I just want to be sure my beloved doesn’t get eaten by the ten-foot crow if he’s tucked into our bunk.”
Crystal laughed. “Go on. I want to take a quick swim. Might be more like ten minutes than five.”
His eyes flicked to the slope of the dune leading down to the beach.
“Alone? Are you sure? Maybe I should come with you.”
She shook her head. “I’ve been doing things alone for many moons, Professor Meeks. Go slay the man-eating crow.”
She kissed the tip of his nose and stood, bidding the others goodnight. Running down the sandy bluff to the water’s edge, she slipped off her t-shirt and kicked her shorts away.
The nearly full moon cast the lake in a ghostly light.
As she stepped in, wading quickly to her waist, the icy water stole her breath. In the bright midday sun, distracted by the exhilaration of cliff jumping, she hadn’t noticed the cold. Now it sank into her flesh like icy teeth.
She gathered her courage, sucked in a breath and dove forward, slicing through the frigid water. For several seconds, the cold jarred her. Gradually her body acclimated, and she swam deeper into the lake.
Rolling onto her back, she stretched her arms wide and floated, gazing at the velvet black sky adorned with a million stars. She tried to quiet her mind, calm the voice urging her back to Weston.
“Let me be here first,” she murmured, a token phrase she’d used for years when she found her mind jumping to the future and threatening to miss the glory of the moment blossoming around her.
She breathed and floated, and marveled at the heavens, and she did not fear the end of her life, though she felt it looming, knocking quietly at a door in some faraway place.
Stilling her churning legs, she allowed her body to drift beneath the surface before sliding back out and swimming for the shore.
A shadow passed above her, and Crystal glanced up to see birds, hundreds of dark birds, swarming across the sky. They blotted out the moon and the stars, and for several seconds she didn’t swim but watched them in awe.
Goosebumps lit her spine from nape to tailbone. As she reached shallow water, she stood and walked uncertainly toward the beach.
The birds, and more still coming, settled in droves in the trees. She heard their mad chittering and saw them nipping and rustling their feathers, but their numbers made the trees themselves appear like giants perched on the bluff.
As she approached the trail leading back through the dune grass, the crows, as if in unspoken agreement, hushed.
Their silence was more unnerving than their sound, and Crystal stopped, pulling on her shorts and t-shirt and looking down the beach, vaguely hopeful that Weston had followed her and she wouldn’t have to walk beneath the gathering of birds alone.
Her mind hurdled to Dan’s story of the man-sized crow and she shuddered, imagining the birds melting together, forming the monster that would devour her on the moon-washed beach.
Lifting one leg, she tried to step forward, but her other foot held firmly in place, half of her refusing to walk into the shadow of the sleek birds. She watched them watching her, pictured a thousand shiny black eyes studying her on the white sand.
A shadow broke from the trees, tall and man-shaped, and Crystal gasped and pedaled backwards as it fled down the sand toward her.
She threw up her hands and shrieked.
“Crystal?” a familiar voice called. Dan’s voice.
She lowered her hands to find Dan standing before her, a wicked smile stretched across his face.
“Damn, I scared you, huh?” He laughed and shook his head. “I always get somebody with that old crow story.” He clapped his hands together as if terribly pleased with himself, and Crystal offered a shaky smile in return.
“Thanks a lot, Dan. If someone throws a snake in your tent tonight, don’t look at me,” she told him, brushing past him to the walk up the dune.
“Oh, come on, your knight in shining armor would have protected you from the crow man. And if he didn’t, I’d swoop in to save the day,” he yelled to her back as she trudged up the hill.
She offered a backward wave, and as she passed under the line of trees, she realized the birds had returned to their chittering.
The eerie silence had vanished.
When she peeled back the canvas door on the yurt, she saw Weston had lit white candles along the floor and sprinkled yellow rose petals across the bed.
“Too much?” he asked when she stepped in, barefoot and still wet.
Her hair dripped water in rivulets down her body. Wes sat on the edge of the bed, wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs. He watched her, his face glowing in the candlelight, his chest steadily rising and falling.
Crystal pulled her t-shirt off and lifted a hand to her bathing suit top, untying the strings and letting it fall to the floor. She kicked off her shorts and crossed the space between them, feeling his hands, warm and large, run up her clammy backside.
He pulled her into his lap, and she pressed her face into his shoulder.
“You’re shaking,” he whispered, kissing her temple.
“Cold water,” she murmured, but it was the crows that rose into her thoughts.
The following day, their group ate a light breakfast of fruit and granola bars before launching kayaks and paddling toward Pictured Rocks.
The huge sandstone cliffs rose from the water, revealing half a dozen layers of copper, cobalt, sand and cream.
“These cliffs were formed millions of years ago,” Dan called as they drifted into the lake. “The colors originate from different minerals. Iron creates the red shades, manganese is responsible for the blues and blacks, limonite contributes to the whites and tans, and finally copper adds the green tones.”
“The copper color isn’t from copper?” Melanie, one of the two wives in the group, asked, lifting a disposable camera encased in a plastic Ziploc bag.
“Nope,” Dan answered. “Ever worn copper jewelry? When copper interacts with the air, it leaves a green residue.”