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Baldwin and Marta exchanged glances and again burst into laughter.
“What is it? What’s so funny?” Ewan called.
“Unfortunately, we’ve lost our oars!” Marta returned.
Ewan and Penelope’s eyes bulged. “How on earth did you manage that?” Penelope asked.
“It’s quite a long story,” Baldwin affirmed.
“I daresay it isn’t so long. It’s only been about ten minutes since you disappeared around this embankment,” Ewan returned.
“Such specifics. Regardless, we need your assistance in retrieving our oars. Would you mind?” Baldwin asked.
“That’s a tricky thing indeed,” Ewan said. He turned back towards Penelope, mocking them. “Do you think we should allow them to float about without rhyme or reason for the rest of their days? Or do you suppose we should put them out of their misery?”
Penelope giggled. “It’s a tricky question. After all, they’ve done this to themselves, haven’t they?”
Ultimately, Penelope and Ewan rowed in a massive circle around the other couple, lifting their oars out of the water and passing them back gingerly, ensuring that neither of them fell into the water themselves. Baldwin slid the oars back into their positions and gave Marta a firm nod.
“I suppose this means we can be on our way again,” he said.
“How wonderful,” Marta said, although her voice felt hollow. Ultimately, she’d wanted nothing more than to remain oarless, in various stages of undress, with Baldwin Terrence. She’d wanted his fingers to bring her to that impossible, orgasmic glory. She’d wanted to feel nothing but the water below and the sky above them.
But the day was no less lovely. The four of them rowed towards the far end of the lake, where they watched little fuzzy ducks float past, their beaks dipping into the lake to sip water, quacking quietly as they floated. Marta placed her hand in the water and watched her fingers as they floated back and forth. Beneath the surface, they seemed light green.
“It’s remarkable that you have this at your disposal all the time,” Ewan told Penelope. “Many would kill for such land, complete with a lake and a wild forest around it.”
“It was a beautiful thing to grow up here,” Penelope affirmed. “I always felt that the forest was this gorgeous thing I wanted to explore all morning and afternoon. My parents did their best to pull me back inside, teach me a few manners. But I longed for the water and the air and the animals. Even now, look! There he is. The badger.”
All four cut their eyes towards the meandering beast, who paused on the other side of a massive oak and peered at them with distrustful eyes. They’d wandered into his world with their own opinions and language.
“He probably thinks we’re monsters,” Marta murmured.
After the badger wandered away, the quartet latched their boats to the tree and found a small clearing, where they set up a picnic. Penelope had packed berry wine and freshly-baked bread and fresh cheeses and little cured pieces of meat and raspberries, blackberries, and blueberries. The spread was miraculous. The berries caught the light and seemed to echo back their immense health and vitality. Marta placed a raspberry on her tongue and squished it, eyes closed. She felt every single tiny explosion of the little sections. She felt every single seed.
The day was a blissful one. This was the only possible word Marta could use to describe it. At various points of the afternoon, Baldwin splayed his head in her lap, telling little stories and making everyone from Marta to Ewan to Penelope burst into laughter.
“I never imagined you to be such an orator, Baldwin! I suppose it matters who keeps your company,” Ewan said, flashing a smile towards Marta.
It seemed clear that Marta had been the one to change everything. This both thrilled and frightened her. She’d never envisioned herself to have such power.
As the day crept to a close, the four of them loaded back in the rowboats and returned to Penelope’s mansion. Throughout the rowing, Marta couldn’t help looking at Ewan’s face. He was perpetually enamoured with Penelope, big-eyed and wide-faced and quick to come up with some sort of joke to make her laugh. Marta couldn’t have envisioned how happy it made her to watch Ewan fall in love. It was one of the bigger surprises of her life.
Marta walked Baldwin to the stables to bid him goodbye. There, in the sacred silence of the shadows, he kissed her again. She wanted to plead with him, to demand he tell her when they would find a way to one another forever. But she knew there was no answer to this horrible question. He crept over to his horse and then nodded a final time. It seemed too painful to speak in these moments. His horse raced out across the moors as tears dripped down Marta’s face. In this strange, painful moment, she heard Ewan call her name from near the house. It was already time to return to their home.
In the carriage on the way back, Ewan spoke endlessly about his fascination with Penelope. “She told me things today she’s never told anyone,” he said. “I feel as though we’ve crossed over some sort of boundary that couples are meant to maintain, even into husband and wifery. It’s as though we’ve been waiting for one another this entire time.”
Marta felt the same about Baldwin. She hesitated, then opened her lips.
“I know. I know it’s what you two have, as well,” Ewan said. “And I know it must be terribly painful to know that there’s no clear path to the happiness you so crave. Stay patient. Stay alert. Somehow, someway, your love will come to fruition. You will find a path to happiness. There’s no other alternative.”
Aunt Margaret perched in the garden with her hands collected over a walking stick and her eyes eagle-like, watching as the two approached. She waved them over, her eyes dancing between the two of them.
“How was your afternoon?” she finally asked, cutting through the strained silence.
“It was beautiful,” Marta said. She felt overcome with it, knowing that she couldn’t fully divulge what had happened, as Baldwin had been their secret. “Ewan and Penelope were fine company. We went rowing across the lake.”
Aunt Margaret’s eyebrow rose high. “Three of you in a single rowboat? It seems outlandish.”
