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circumstances, the modesty bit is a little out of place, don’t you think? Believe me, I am not interested in leering at you. Frankly, in your current condition I can’t even tell if you are leer worthy.”
    “I know that!” she shouted. “God! Do you think I don’t know that? It’s just that I…I…don’t think I can walk!”
    Joe realized he would never understand what her inability to walk had to do with her not wanting him to look at her. Stress had evidently short-wired her thought processes. She possibly even knew she wasn’t making sense, but she was caught in some sort of mental loop. He’d seen it before. Mostly in political debates. There would be no reasoning with her until the shock had worn off.
    “Okay. Okay,” he said. “You tell me what you want me to do.”
    She snuffled loudly. “Could you please bring me the blanket? Without looking?”
    “I can try.” He started cautiously forward, sweeping his foot out in front of him as he went.
    “A little more to the left.”
    He went left.
    “Not that much. There. Good. A few more feet. Straight. Almost…Stop.”
    He stopped, the blanket still held up between them. “Now what?”
    “Just, ah, throw it over me. Really gently. I’m right in front of you about three feet away.”
    “Okay.” He held the blanket at arm’s length and tossed. It landed on her head and draped itself over her. “I’m looking now. You’re covered. Mostly.”
    “It’s not big enough to cover all of me,” her muffled voice announced. “It’s the size of a shawl and it stinks of mildew.”
    He considered. “Hold on. I have an idea.”
    He reached into his pocket and took out the silver penknife he carried. Then he put one hand on top of her head.
    “What are you doing?” she asked.
    “I’m going to cut a hole for your head,” he said. “Hold still.”
    Gingerly, he plucked the blanket up a few inches above her head and slipped the pointed end of the blade into the material. The polyester didn’t offer any resistance; it sliced open like butter to a hot knife. He sawed a foot-long slit in the blanket and pocketed the knife. Then he reached down and tugged on the blanket until her head popped through the slit. She blinked up at him. She had pretty eyes, dark and luminous. Other than that, it would be hard to say what she looked like until someone turned a hose on her.
    “Thanks,” she said and smiled. Okay, he thought. A very nice smile, too, even with the caked mud cracking on her cheeks.
    “No problem,” he replied. “Now what?”
    “If you could find me a nice sturdy stick I could use to walk, I’ll be fine.”
    He looked at her, small and bedraggled and filthy, her legs scratched and bug bitten, barely covered by a GO VIKINGS lap rug. His shoulders slumped with the certainty of what he would have to do. He would have to touch her. It was so clearly his duty. Before she could protest, he bent down and, with what he considered a heroic disregard for his clothing, picked her up. She wiggled.
    “Please stop writhing about,” he said as the aroma of lake bottom met his nose. “My shirt is a lost cause, but I still hold out a slim hope that my pants can be saved.”
    She gave a little offended gasp but stopped wiggling.
    “Now, I’m going to take you to the car and drive you wherever you want to go.” His tone brooked no argument and he got none. He straightened. Slowly. She was heavier than she looked.
    “How much do you weigh?” he asked, fervently hoping his back didn’t go out.
    “I’m dense,” she said coldly. “My specific gravity is higher than other people’s. And I didn’t ask you to pick me up.”
    “You’re welcome.” He made it upright without feeling any back muscles give and bounced her into a more comfortable position. Thank God, the car was only twenty feet away.
    He stumbled out of the brush toward the car. He did play it up (a bit) because she was so noticeably lacking in the gratitude department. He stopped halfway to