Chapter 25
Sarah stood at the end of the dock. The lake was ringed by the blushes of reds and yellows typical for late September. Within days, the trees would unleash their full color. Smooth water mirrored the scene. She breathed in the iron tinge of the lake, the dew-wetted earth, and held it in her lungs. This was like a new beginning, she thought. A return to where we began. A clunk against the dock pulled her attention away.
“Come on, Mom. Let’s go!” Bella said.
Sarah looked down. Matt, with the kids already settled on board, had maneuvered the canoe at her feet. “Your chariot, madame,” he said in a faux French accent. She stepped down into the boat and stabilized it before sinking her weight onto the empty bow seat. Multihued backpacks and loose gear were crammed into most available space. The kids perched in the middle of the boat on the spines of packs like eager gargoyles, pint-size paddles at the ready. Sarah held the edge of the dock, felt the sun-warmed wood against her fingers, and pushed off toward a familiar untethering as the boat drifted away from land.
The forecast for the weekend was mixed: chilly nights, some daytime sun, and showers Saturday night to Sunday morning. They had debated canceling, but in the end, momentum won out and they found themselves pushing into the broad shoulders of Nagadon Lake. A chill lingered in the late-morning air. Sarah dragged her hands along the surface, and the water caressed her fingers.
The promise of the lake and the woods obscured the doubts Sarah nursed about her marriage. Since finding out about Grace, she sat on a fulcrum between confronting Matt and feigning ignorance. In the end, the children’s laughter convinced her to stay quiet. It won’t ever be perfect, she thought as her paddle carved a line through the water, but there can be moments of happiness. Maybe that’s enough. On the water with her husband—where their story had begun—she could snuff out embers of doubt.
Bella bounced on her makeshift seat as she twisted and pointed at each little ripple or imagined creature. The boat rocked in the wake of her squirming, but Matt kept it stable.
“Watch carefully for any snorffblatts, guys,” Matt said.
“What’s a snorffblatt?” Bella asked.
“You’ve never heard of a snorffblatt?”
“What is it?” The kids said in unison.
“Well, a snorffblatt is the magicalest of magical creatures. You can only find them in these woods. They are pretty tricky to find, so to see one, you need to be sneaky. They like to change all the time. They can be brown or pink or neon green. They can be fuzzy or scaly or even feathered. The two things they can’t change, though, are their size and shape. They have long, spindly legs, like Big Bird, and round, squat bodies, like a clementine orange.”
“I wanna find one!” Charlie said.
“A snorffblatt usually finds you,” Matt said, his voice lowered into a conspiracy, “but a friend of mine told me, if you look really hard, you can see the trace of them.”
The kids asked endless questions about the snorfblatt’s habits and the likelihood of catching one, and Matt had equally endless replies. The conversation only ended when Charlie announced he had to pee.
“What? Already, buddy? It’s only been twenty minutes. Can you hold it a bit?”
“Okay,” Charlie said and looked down at his feet.
Five more minutes of Charlie’s jitters vibrating the boat made it clear waiting was not an option.
“Okay, okay,” Matt said, fighting a touch of annoyance as he steered the canoe toward shore. They found an empty campsite, and Matt jumped out of the boat. “Okay, bud, hop out,” he said. Charlie clambered over the gunnels to join his father on shore but hung back as Matt headed up the trail into the woods.
“Come on, Charlie.” Charlie shook his head. “Charlie, the privy is at the back of the campsite. You can’t pee near the water.”
The boy shook his head while his eyes cast suspicion toward the woods. “But—but, what about the snorffblatts?”
Bella barked a laugh. “Don’t be a chicken, Charlie.”
“It’s fine, Charlie,” Matt said, impatience growing.
Charlie shook his head as Bella called out chicken repeatedly. Finally, Sarah broke in. “Charlie, how big do you think the snorffblatts are?”
Charlie stood on his tiptoes with an arm stretched above his head. “Like Big Bird,” he said, consternation burrowed into his brows.
“Oh, honey, no. Snorffblatts are the size of a chipmunk. If anything, you need to be careful not to step on one.” Charlie’s face relaxed. He took Matt’s hand and headed up the trail, watching his feet with every step as they disappeared into the forest.
Bella stayed with Sarah in the canoe. A light breeze pushed the boat out until the line, securely tied to a tree on shore, twitched them back. There was a strange comfort floating on water that Sarah could never reconcile, feeling weightlessness while knowing the water could crush the life out of you.
Bella talked about school and snorffblatts and whether Sarah thought they could catch a whole fish for dinner. Sarah just listened, throwing out an occasional uh-huh to keep the mellifluousness going.
Charlie came back along the small trail a few minutes later, lighter on his feet and alone. “Where’s Daddy?”
Charlie shrugged.
“What do you mean, Charlie? He can’t have left you. Is he still at the latrine?”
“I don’t know.”
Charlie tried to crawl back into the canoe, but Sarah stopped him. “Wait for Daddy,” she said.
Time passed. The wind tickled the trees. Sarah felt a weight settle into her bones. She took a deep breath and was surprised by the shudder that escaped her lips.
Sarah called Matt, but nothing stirred in response. Her voice echoed off the water. Her chest burbled, making it hard to stay seated in the canoe. Her eye twitched as she stared into the trees, willing them to reveal her husband. Charlie picked up a stick and drew lines through the wet sand.
Bella started to climb out, and Sarah grabbed the gunnels and ordered her to stay put.
“But, I want to draw too,” Bella said in a whine that scratched across Sarah’s nerves.
Sarah stepped a foot out of the canoe into the shallow water at the shoreline. She felt trickles of cold seep into her shoes as an unnamed fear crawled over her skin.
“Bella, watch Charlie. I’m going to—”
“What are you doing, Sarah?” She heard Matt before he emerged from the woods a few feet off the trail. “Don’t tell me you need to pee now too?”
Sarah climbed out on the shore, too embarrassed to admit she had been panicked by his absence. But the look he gave her was enough; he knew she was anxious, and the judgment was equal parts withering and infuriating.
Sarah marched up the trail to the latrine, ignoring Charlie’s reminders not to step on a snorffblatt. Once out of sight, she stopped and listened. The kids’ chatter was replaced by the warble of birdsong and the scurry of animals rustling in the low brush. These faint noises, devoid of urgency or demand, were almost sensual. Sarah imagined them drawing her away—like the siren’s call: away from her children, away from her propped-up marriage.
A staccato burst startled her thoughts. A flock of Canada geese passed overhead in a lopsided V. The birds honked a haphazard rhythm, dipping low before disappearing over the trees. Sarah saw contradictions in the birds—graceful and clumsy, comical and mean. She watched until the sound of them vanished.
Sarah returned to her family and noticed for the first time the red dry bag shoved in the front-end V of the boat, right at Charlie’s knees. If the wet suit was still stuffed inside, had Matt noticed the slits of her fury? She felt an embarrassed flush in her cheeks but tamped it down.
Matt gave her a questioning look, which she ignored. Her reality may be fragile, but it would not be tainted. Not here. Not now.
“Did you see a snorffblatt, Mom?” Bella asked.
“No, honey, I didn’t. Maybe at our next stop?”