“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.”
Keep your enemies closer. Daniel had always hated that phrase because he detested cliches and the idea of hating another person so much he’d carry anger on a daily basis. Life was too short and precious for such a waste of energy.
But as he followed behind Margaux, he couldn’t help but express relief. He was glad she had taken the lead. He didn’t trust her out of his sight. And the fact that she marched with such determination and clear direction betrayed her. She had been content to be a follower for so long. Why the sudden take charge attitude now? Unless she’d grown tired of pulling the strings on puppets that challenged her choreography.
Their footsteps crunched and cracked, despite the sandy soil. More debris on the unmanicured ground meant each step landed with more of an impact. Or he was philosophizing as he kept pace with Margaux.
Once again, he couldn’t help but worry about the coincidences that ended both Jennifer’s and Christine’s parts of the expedition. Blessedly, the women survived their respective brushes with danger. In his mind, he’d cleared them of any treachery. He didn’t think Jennifer and Christine worked with Margaux. Their dismissive attitudes weren’t an act. But now he feared getting them out of the way showed the truth.
Margaux was trying to take out anyone who could keep her from her goal. Which now seemed to be the time capsule. But why? No one remembered what was inside of it. Margaux seemed to have a clue.
“Wow, Margaux,” Emma said, panting as she raced to keep up with the woman. “If you would’ve taken charge from the start, you could’ve saved us forty-five minutes of meandering in circles.” Emma laughed.
Daniel was getting to know her again and could be misinterpreting her cues. But he hated that she sounded forced and tired. He was, however, glad for her to say something and break the silence, besides the mixed cacophony of their labored breathing and the squish squelch of Emma’s wet socks in her soaked sneakers.
Margaux stiffened, before once again rounding her back and shrinking.
Her body language he now recognized as an affectation. With exhaustion setting in, her performance ebbed and flowed. He tightened his grip on his shovel, reminding himself to keep any sort of weapon away from her.
