Chapter 14
Fourteen
Emma packed up her sleeping bag, stuffing what she could into her backpack. Taking the time to neatly fold the sleeping bag in half and roll from the top down, compressing it as she went, wasn’t an option. Fighting to fit the smooth nylon into the drawstring bag was a battle she won.
She was glad to move fast and work alone. Margaux’s conversation rattled her more than Emma wanted to show. What had spurred Margaux to confront Emma? Was the other woman facing her own past decisions and outwardly projecting?
Something was off in Margaux’s behavior.
With each yard farther from civilization, the wilder she became.
Or was that only Emma’s perception? She was losing her own grounding and direction the longer she was out here, as evidenced by the sloppy backpack.
She gave herself a shake, laid down on top of the bag and zipped it shut.
The tent flap opened.
“Oh, wow. You’re packed?” Margaux tittered. “I’ve left such a mess it’ll take me ages.”
Emma balked again at the dramatics but swallowed the response building in her throat. She wanted to scream. She’d settle for space. With a pained smile, Emma nodded and escaped the tight confines.
The fire was only a pile of soaked sticks and ashes, the hint of woodsmoke lingered in the air like a ghost. Her moment with Daniel had been so nice and promising. She prayed what was between them wasn’t a phantom of a road not traveled.
Footsteps sounded.
She glanced up to find him near his tent, studying her with a worried expression. She smoothed a hand over her hastily pulled back ponytail and swung the backpack onto her shoulders. “I’ll go ahead to the dock. I need a little…”
Moment? Peace? Quiet? She didn’t know how to finish the sentence or how he wanted her to. He had a professional duty to Margaux. Otherwise, Emma knew he would have followed her.
“Sure. Stay safe. We’ll be along soon,” Daniel said.
She turned and left, heading directly to the lakeshore toward the dock.
Proper maintenance often meant taking a dock out and storing it in the winter.
Emma remembered helping the Thomases do that in the late fall with other high school kids for some extra cash.
Judging by the state of the rotten boards and missing planks, the dock had remained in place for several winters.
She grabbed one of the posts and tested the wood’s strength, pushing and pulling.
The timber didn’t move. She climbed onto the dock and focused on the boards, gingerly tiptoeing around cracks and over missing planks.
Until she reached halfway across, and the rest of the dock vanished, only the uprights remained.
Weeds tangled into a clump at the surface, stirring up flashes of the past and jumping in at full speed into the open water beyond.
While wearing life jackets, she and her sister had been invincible, splashing around and not caring that they couldn’t see or touch the muddy bottom.
She peered into the dark water and recoiled. She wouldn’t be so brave now.
She glanced to the spot where life jackets used to hang.
A heap of timbers stood in the spot. Surprisingly, next to it, a few canoes stood upright in the rusty, metal rack.
How had the camp operated without using the lake?
Did the town open the community pool to campers?
Every corner of the camp only provoked more questions with no hint of an answer.
The slap of another pair of feet on the dock snapped her to attention. With her shoulders raised to her ears, she turned, preparing for the worst. Another hurtful or fake comment from an oblivious Margaux. But only Daniel appeared.
He lifted a foot onto the dock. “Are you sure this is safe?”
“No, stop!” She waved both her hands. Any added weight to the crumbling structure might collapse the whole thing. She didn’t want to drop into the chilly lake.
“Hold on, I’ll come back,” she said, holding up a hand as he set one foot on the dock.
His bigger frame would fall through the weak boards. She didn’t want him to plunge into the water by himself either. With a care for speed and lightness, she crossed to solid land on tiptoe, leaping from one spot to the next.
He reached a hand up to help her down.
She placed her fingers in his, and a jolt zinged along her skin. Being with him felt right and secure. In the midst of so much emotional chaos, he grounded her. Could the connection last if given a chance?
“Thanks,” she said, slightly breathless. She pulled her hand free as her feet hit the ground.
“What were you doing?” he asked.
“Trying to gauge if we could walk to the end and swim across,” she said. “I figured if we’re going to get soaked,” she pointed to the abandoned canoes on a stand half covered by weeds, “we might as well go in of our own accord.”
“In water this cold?” he scoffed. “I want at least the illusion of staying dry.”
She chuckled and rubbed her hands together. Her right palm still tingled from his grip. “Are you packed up?”
He nodded. “Margaux is finishing up the tent right now. Hey, about earlier…”
Emma shook her head at the pleading in his tone. Too often, she’d heard pity when someone used that voice. “Please don’t apologize on her behalf or tell me my life has value. She hasn’t shaken my self-confidence.”
“Good. And I was going to say, I’m growing concerned with her. She has sort of a wildness to her,” he said.
Emma agreed but kept her mouth shut. She wasn’t sure his opinion, acknowledging her feelings, made her feel better or worse about the situation.
She wanted to hold on to some semblance of control.
Taking in a deep breath, she exhaled and released the tight fists she hadn’t realized she’d curled.
Control wasn’t hers. It was His. And she’d trust in Him as she always did.
“Hey,” Margaux called.
Emma fought the shudder as another nice moment ended by the brute force of reality.
Margaux used both shovels as walking sticks. “How are we going to do this?”
“We were just debating,” Emma said. “I’ll concede. If we can find a seaworthy enough vessel for the few hundred-yard paddle, we can canoe.”
Daniel fist-bumped the air.
Emma chuckled despite her misgivings and followed him to the stand.
After an exhaustive investigation of the three remaining canoes on the rack, they selected a faded blue vessel that had no apparent holes.
Only one oar remained intact. Emma located another that lost almost all of its handle and stem, leaving a pole.
“I’ll sit at the front with this,” she announced.
“Are you sure?” Margaux asked. “I’m shorter, closer to the water. You’ll strain your back bending over to row. What about using the shovels?”
“No.” Emma shook her head. Images of a shovel accidentally knocking into a person, hitting them with force, flashing in her mind. “It’s safer to use this. But you can do the work on the way back.”
They got the canoe into the water, the vessel bobbing. Would the boat remain buoyant for the length of their journey and back again? Emma hadn’t had much go her way lately.
She shot a longing look at the spot where life preservers had once hung. She was a strong swimmer but appreciated taking every precaution offered. She stepped in and made her way to the front, keeping her backpack on to help keep it dry for as long as possible.
Margaux seated herself in the center with the shovels in the bottom of the canoe.
Emma glanced over her shoulder at Daniel, nodding when he made eye contact.
He shoved the vessel forward and jumped in the back.
The canoe bobbed for a second, but no water came over the sides or up from the bottom. Bending over, Emma paddled as fast as she could, her upper back aching. Her actions were better described as punting like a gondolier.
She didn’t look back, and she didn’t look up. She feared both would demoralize her. But after minutes or hours, she couldn’t judge time by her burning lungs and sore body, she saw the shore underneath and looked up.
They’d reached the island.
Emma hopped out onto the shore, sinking up to her ankles in cold water. But she didn’t care. She tugged the boat forward, holding it steady as Margaux disembarked and then Daniel.
Together, they lugged the canoe up onto the shore, overturning it onto the stones a few yards off the sandy beach to keep it out of the water.
Now that she’d experienced the bone-chilling, nerve-tingling temperatures for herself, she was glad they hadn’t needed to swim. And she didn’t want to give the freestyle a try on their return trip.
“Okay,” Daniel said, drying his hands on his pants and setting the oar to one side.
Emma grabbed the shovels, handing one to Daniel and keeping a grip on the other, ignoring Margaux’s outstretched hand. She wouldn’t explain why she didn’t want to give Margaux the tool.
“It’s just up this way, around the tree house,” Margaux said, dropping her arm to the side. She led the way, up the winding path, invisible with weeds on an island that clearly hadn’t seen anyone in years.
They might be the first visitors to the island in the years since they’d buried the time capsule. Emma hadn’t heard any warnings about not visiting the spot. But if wandering the property was difficult, this terrain was almost impassable.
At the tree house, an old shed that they had claimed as a hideout in their teens, Emma turned left. Margaux and Daniel followed. After walking to the end of the island, she realized she’d taken the wrong turn.
They circled back and took the other direction, reaching the other side of the island.
Emma exhaled a heavy sigh. She didn’t want to waste their time and energy with constant backtracking. Admitting defeat and heading home seemed the safest option. Emma stopped walking and faced her companions with a chagrinned looked. “I’m sorry. Nothing looks familiar.”
“I know where it is,” Margaux said. “Follow me.”