Gillian's Do-Over by Kate Vale

he’d figure out a way for her to stay on the raft after lunch. Gillian went back to her weeding after Quinn gave her a hug and an enthusiastic kiss on both cheeks.
    “I’ll see you later. After I pick up Bianca.”
    That evening over dinner Gillian quizzed Bianca on the rafting trip, hoping she might be less enthusiastic than Quinn. Lawyer Bianca tended to think things through longer than Quinn, whose tendency was to jump with both feet into virtually any new adventure. But Bianca was equally enthused. “You’ll love it, Ms. Griffiths. I know you will.”
    “ Please call me Gillian, dear.” Yes, she definitely needed to get to know Bianca. So much for her future daughter-in-law being on her side of this new experience.
     
    Gillian checked into her room at the inn. The drive to the rafting site had been tiring, but the July sun was warm, almost hot, really, and the water looked inviting. Near the inn, the river seemed to poke along at a pace she considered safe. People in the rafts waved at others on the shore as they coasted by, not even paddling, as the river carried them along at a leisurely pace. Maybe this rafting thing wouldn’t be so bad.
    She changed into shorts and a sleeveless blouse, plastered sunblock on her pale legs and arms, and went outside to sit on a blanket in the grass. Quinn was right to have encouraged her to pack the fancy wide-brimmed hat she hadn’t worn in years. The warmth of the sun coaxed her to roll over onto her back as she read the book she’d brought along. After a few minutes, she closed her book, propped her head on one arm and closed her eyes.
    “Hey there, little lady!” A poke to her shoulder and an overly loud voice interrupted Gillian’s impromptu nap. She rolled onto her side and squinted in the direction of the sound.
    The man crouching next to her wore shorts out of which fat, hairy legs protruded. His bare arms were covered with tattoos from shoulder to wrist. His brown eyes seemed to laugh at her and a smile split his pock-marked face.
    “Glad to see you’re not dead,” he declared.
    Not with a voice like yours, loud enough to wake the dear departed . Maybe he was hard of hearing. Gillian propped her chin on one hand. “Am I in your way?” she asked, her voice barely above whisper range, hoping he’d lower his volume.
    “No, you’re not in my way. But what’s a pretty lady like you doing out here all by yourself? You’re not married, are you? Better yet, even if you are, tell your old man to go away so we can have some fun!” he fairly shouted, and then chortled as he plunked down next to her.
    So much for a relaxing nap. She sat up, straightened her sleeveless blouse and pulled it down to meet the waistband of her shorts where it ridden up, inadvertently showing a bit of midriff. “I was reading,” she said, hoping he’d take the hint that she preferred to get back to her book.
    “ With your eyes closed?” He chuckled. “Well, that’s not the best use of your time here, now is it?” he asked. “You going rafting, or did you just come back? You don’t look wet.”
    I’m going to get wet? “Tomorrow. I’m going tomorrow.”
    “Well, now, that’s just great!” he announced. “I am, too. Maybe we’ll be on the same little rubber boat. That would be ducky, don’t you think? Rubber Boat. Ducky,” he laughed. “Get it?” He poked her shoulder again.
    Maybe. Maybe not. She reached for her book and opened it in another attempt to make him see that he’d interrupted her.
    “You by your lonesome here?” he persisted.
    “I’m with my son and his fiancée.”
    “Oh. Too bad.” He looked around. “I don’t see them. Maybe we could eat dinner together— just you and me—and get to know one another.” He winked at her.
    “I—thanks for the off er, but I’m eating with them.” She rose and picked up the blanket and her book.
    He nodded and awkwardly scrambled to his feet to stand next to her.
    The man had to be several inches above six