Page 60 of Fate, Interrupted

“How long is a while?”

“Define long.”

She laughs as we head toward the dock, shaking her head with the energy of someone who has accepted the situation and intends to enjoy it nevertheless.

The dock boards squeak under our weight and the blue lake laps against the pilings, the sound clean and rhythmic.

“I know for a fact you’re the only one bothered I haven’t rowed a boat since Kit Scouts.”

Her eyes widen. “Seriously? Is that like Cub Scouts, but for wolves?”

I look at her expression, filled with open-faced wonder that almost has me wishing like crazy there had been Kit Scouts to join when I was young.

I bury my face in my hands, feigning apology, then laugh. “No. I made that up. But it has been twenty years since I’ve rowed a boat. Happy now?”

“You’re incorrigible,” she says, shaking her head.

I step into the boat first. It rocks considerably more than I expect.

Norah stops at the dock and looks down at it. “I knew it,” she says.

“It’s fine.”

“That didn’t look fine. That boat looked like it was giving us a warning.”

I take the picnic basket, nestle it on the floor, and hold out my hand.

She takes it, her grip tightening as she steps down, and the boat rocks again with her weight. She grabs the side with her free hand.

“Silas.” It’s said more as a warning.

“We’re not falling in,” I tell her.

“I think that’s up to the boat.”

I push us away from the dock with one foot and take up the oars. The first pull is uneven, the second worse, sending us at an angle that has no navigational logic. Norah watches for approximately ten seconds before she laughs hard, her head thrown back as the boat drifts sideways.

“You’re fighting it,” she says.

“I’m not fighting anything.”

“You absolutely are. You’re treating the water like you’re trying to reposition it.”

“The water doesn’t have a position.”

“Then why are you arguing with it?”

Another pull sends us sideways again and her laughter deepens, open and completely unrestrained. My chest loosens despite the embarrassment.

It takes four or five more strokes before the rhythm comes back. Once it does, the boat eases forward cleanly, the oars pulling through the water with growing competence.

Norah relaxes back into the seat. “Okay,” she says. “That’s better.”

“I told you.”

“You told me to have faith, different from telling me it would be better.”

“The outcome is the same.”