appointment.
Marilyn handed Abby the two fishing poles. “Here. We won’t need these anymore.”
The waxed floss had already started unraveling from the knots she’d used to tie the earring lures in place. Abby quickly slid the slick string back and pulled the earrings free. “You’ll want these back,” she said, handing them over.
“No, really.” Marilyn crossed her arms over her chest, rubbing her shoulders as though to comfort herself. “I’d rather not.”
Unsure whether the woman’s impulse had to do with regret at leaving the other gems aboard the Helene, or if Marilyn simply didn’t want part of her jewelry without the rest, Abby decided not to push her, given her emotionally fragile state. She shoved the earrings deep into her back pocket for safekeeping, and realized at the same time she was acquiring quite a bit of jewelry in her pockets. After all, she still had the ring in the pocket at her hip, its tiny prick a sharp reminder of all that still lay before her.
Scott stepped over and gave his mother a hug goodbye before tying the bucket to a cross brace near the rear of the canoe. “Okay, let’s see if she’ll hold us.”
Abby relented to being lowered in with Scott’s help. He’d pulled the canoe to the end of the dock where the water was deepest, and she felt the boat dip precariously with her weight. But as she crouched at her place toward the front of the canoe, the mad rocking eased quickly. “Your turn,” she called back to Scott.
There were no seats, so she sat on her knees and grabbed the sides while Scott lowered himself gingerly into placeat the rear of the boat. Then he tossed a paddle to her. “Let’s see what she can do.”
They paddled free of the dock, gliding along easily as they moved into open water. Abby breathed deeply of the sea-scented air and tried to tell herself to enjoy their excursion. After all, when would she have an opportunity like this again? She was canoeing with Scott Frasier, something she’d have only dreamed about doing years before. But when she let out a shaky breath and dipped her paddle in the water again, she found she couldn’t fight back her fear over the great risk they were taking.
“What do you think?” she asked, looking back and seeing no water in the bottom of the boat. “Does she look seaworthy?”
“I’d say so. And it occurred to me that we should probably make tracks before she changes her mind, don’t you think? No point paddling around in the shallows and waiting for her to spring a leak.”
Abby took a deep breath, her silent prayer little more than a mantra. I will not fear, for Thou art with me. She repeated the lines from the twenty-third Psalm over and over in her head and tried her best to believe them. “Okay,” she agreed, digging deep with her paddle and feeling the canoe glide forward smoothly as a result. “Let’s aim for the south end of Rocky. These waves are going to try to push us out to sea, and I’d like to do whatever I can to avoid that.”
“Agreed. Pull hard on the left,” Scott instructed, then shouted a goodbye to his mother, who waved before crossing her arms and hugging herself again.
For the next several minutes they paddled in relative silence, breaking the stillness only with the occasional, “keep her steady,” or “harder on the left, I think we’redrifting.” But as they moved farther out from the protection of Devil’s Island, the wind picked up and the waves began to get higher, lapping ever closer to the rim of the boat. At the same time, the lake seemed intent on moving them straight north, out into the open sea, and Abby found herself exerting more effort in keeping them steered in the right direction than she did in moving them forward at all.
“How are we doing?” she called back, glancing over her shoulder just long enough to see the autumn-clad form of Devil’s Island looming behind them much closer than she’d have liked.
“We’re making headway. Slow but
Marilyn handed Abby the two fishing poles. “Here. We won’t need these anymore.”
The waxed floss had already started unraveling from the knots she’d used to tie the earring lures in place. Abby quickly slid the slick string back and pulled the earrings free. “You’ll want these back,” she said, handing them over.
“No, really.” Marilyn crossed her arms over her chest, rubbing her shoulders as though to comfort herself. “I’d rather not.”
Unsure whether the woman’s impulse had to do with regret at leaving the other gems aboard the Helene, or if Marilyn simply didn’t want part of her jewelry without the rest, Abby decided not to push her, given her emotionally fragile state. She shoved the earrings deep into her back pocket for safekeeping, and realized at the same time she was acquiring quite a bit of jewelry in her pockets. After all, she still had the ring in the pocket at her hip, its tiny prick a sharp reminder of all that still lay before her.
Scott stepped over and gave his mother a hug goodbye before tying the bucket to a cross brace near the rear of the canoe. “Okay, let’s see if she’ll hold us.”
Abby relented to being lowered in with Scott’s help. He’d pulled the canoe to the end of the dock where the water was deepest, and she felt the boat dip precariously with her weight. But as she crouched at her place toward the front of the canoe, the mad rocking eased quickly. “Your turn,” she called back to Scott.
There were no seats, so she sat on her knees and grabbed the sides while Scott lowered himself gingerly into placeat the rear of the boat. Then he tossed a paddle to her. “Let’s see what she can do.”
They paddled free of the dock, gliding along easily as they moved into open water. Abby breathed deeply of the sea-scented air and tried to tell herself to enjoy their excursion. After all, when would she have an opportunity like this again? She was canoeing with Scott Frasier, something she’d have only dreamed about doing years before. But when she let out a shaky breath and dipped her paddle in the water again, she found she couldn’t fight back her fear over the great risk they were taking.
“What do you think?” she asked, looking back and seeing no water in the bottom of the boat. “Does she look seaworthy?”
“I’d say so. And it occurred to me that we should probably make tracks before she changes her mind, don’t you think? No point paddling around in the shallows and waiting for her to spring a leak.”
Abby took a deep breath, her silent prayer little more than a mantra. I will not fear, for Thou art with me. She repeated the lines from the twenty-third Psalm over and over in her head and tried her best to believe them. “Okay,” she agreed, digging deep with her paddle and feeling the canoe glide forward smoothly as a result. “Let’s aim for the south end of Rocky. These waves are going to try to push us out to sea, and I’d like to do whatever I can to avoid that.”
“Agreed. Pull hard on the left,” Scott instructed, then shouted a goodbye to his mother, who waved before crossing her arms and hugging herself again.
For the next several minutes they paddled in relative silence, breaking the stillness only with the occasional, “keep her steady,” or “harder on the left, I think we’redrifting.” But as they moved farther out from the protection of Devil’s Island, the wind picked up and the waves began to get higher, lapping ever closer to the rim of the boat. At the same time, the lake seemed intent on moving them straight north, out into the open sea, and Abby found herself exerting more effort in keeping them steered in the right direction than she did in moving them forward at all.
“How are we doing?” she called back, glancing over her shoulder just long enough to see the autumn-clad form of Devil’s Island looming behind them much closer than she’d have liked.
“We’re making headway. Slow but
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