Kit lifted a hand, hesitated, then touched her hair. She glanced up, eyes brimming in the lamp light. He managed a pained smile. “Did you actually transfer those damned diamonds to Goldie’s worthless piece of property?”
The ghost of a smile flickered into being. “I sure did.” Then her smile crumpled. “But Koot’s dead and everything’s gone to ruin. It’s my fault! I screwed up the amount of fuel we needed. We ran out bucking the headwinds. We had to raft out and Koot contracted malaria of all things trying to get downriver, and we ran out of food, then that storm broke up our raft…” She drew a deep breath. “I’m not making excuses. I’m to blame for all of this. You were right. I’m not cut out to be a scout.”
Kit traced an ugly bruise on her cheek. “Don’t tell me you’re giving up so soon?”
Her chin quivered. “I-I wanted to ask for a second chance, but I-I screwed up so bad, I-”
”Promise me you’ll go back up time and study. Provided we get out of this mess alive,” he added with a wry smile. “You get those college degrees, okay? We’ll talk about it then.”
She started crying again, silently, desperately. Malcolm wanted to hold her, but left that to Kit, who pulled her close and rocked her in his arms. Malcolm’s throat thickened. He’d never seen such an expression on Kit’s face. Eventually she sniffed and pulled back a step. “Okay. We’ll talk about that when we get there,” she said, sounding exactly like her grandfather. “But first, we have to get out of here. Any suggestions?”
”None whatsoever,” Kit said cheerfully. “I generally make things up as I go along. Although for the sake of verisimilitude, I would suggest you scream, very loudly and most convincingly, right about now.”