"Billy, I don't know about this," Machiavelli whimpered. He tugged experimentally on the strap of his helmet. "Have you ever done this before?"
"Sure," Billy said, pulling at the straps on the boy's life vest. "I used to do this all the time before you were born."
"Yeah, I doubt that," Machiavelli muttered. He looked up at the sign by the loading dock. He mouthed the words to himself, "White water rafting."
"Don't worry so much, Niccolò. I swear to you that we're both going to have fun." Billy's eyes were understanding. He pulled the boy closer to the docking station and pointed to the raft they would soon be climbing on. "See over there? That's our guide. I already talked to him and we're going to put you in the middle of the raft. No danger of you falling out. I'll be right beside you." He flashed a smile. "Besides, we're going on the South River trail. It's the easiest ride. Remember, we're going on an adventure."
A whistle sounded and all the other people in the area began moving towards the docking port. Machiavelli grabbed onto Billy's hands. Billy let go only once, to climb onto the raft and then held out his hands to guide the boy into place. Machiavelli swallowed. "An adventure," he said softly to himself.
~MB~
Like so many other things he had experienced lately, the Italian found that the initial fear was far outweighed by the fun he experienced after. He looked over at Billy happily. Billy was drenched to the skin, having fallen in the river twice already. He had come to the conclusion that the outlaw had no shame, grinning widely each time and climbing back into the raft.
Machiavelli screamed a little as they went over another patch of rapids, but nobody heard him with all the sounds of the rushing water around them. The water poured in from all directions, splashing up and twisting like letters in a never ending sentence. The raft they were on crested a particularly high rapid and swiftly dropped again, leaving all of the passengers with the feeling that their stomach was still dropping long after they leveled again.
The Italian immortal squinted in the mist and spray of the river. The people on the outside of the raft paddled to the left and the group swung around a river bend. He was very disappointed to see they had reached the other loading dock.
Billy climbed out of the raft after Machiavelli. Reaching back, he helped pull two women from their section of the boat onto the dock. Machiavelli tugged impatiently on Billy's shorts. "Daddy, can we do it again?"
"We were on the river for three hours." The American swung him up in the air and pulled him into a tight hug. "Another time, I promise, sweetheart. We should get back have dinner."
"Okay," Machiavelli agreed reluctantly. "But remember, you promised."
"I'll remember. I keep my promises."
~MB~
Machiavelli puzzled over his Rush Hour game while Billy prepared dinner. "Did you have any siblings, Billy?" he asked, pushing the cars around.
Billy glanced over at him. "I had a brother Joe. We called him Josie when we were little." He began setting the table in front of the Italian, pushing the game away to make room. Machiavelli let him, focusing his attention instead on the outlaw.
"I had two sisters and two brothers," he told Billy. He spooned some carrots and mashed potatoes on his plate." I was the middle child. But I think my father liked me best. We remained close friends my entire life," he added.
"Oh yeah?" Billy sat down beside Machiavelli. He tilted his head. "I think my mama loved us both pretty equally. But she always called me her baby Henry, even though Josie was much younger."
Machiavelli nodded. "She must have loved you, Billy."
"Naturally. I am pretty lovable."
"So, what ever happened to Josie?" Machiavelli wanted to know.
Billy thought for a moment. Machiavelli instantly wished he hadn't asked- of course, Billy's brother must be dead by now. But Billy chose to answer the question. "After my mama died, my step father put us in separate foster homes. He didn't want to stay around with her gone and he didn't want to take us with him. A couple of years later, I started getting in trouble with the law and had to run."
"So you never saw him again?" Machiavelli's eyes were wide.
"I saw him once more before I was 'executed.' He nearly shot me."
Machiavelli dropped his fork on the floor. "What? He shot you!"
"Nearly. I came back to visit him before going into hiding. He thought I was a horse thief and was aiming to shoot me on the spot." The American picked up Machiavelli's fork and tossed it in the sink, got him a new one. He shrugged. "After that, I never saw him again. But I imagine he became a respectable man. We were always so different, he was serious and straight forward. And I got in trouble all over the place."
Machiavelli went back to eating. "That's sad, Billy."
Billy shrugged again. "That's the price of immortality. Lucky for us, we have each other."