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She handed him a life jacket. “If you change your mind, there’s no shame in that.”
“Do you tell all your students that?” He buckled the life jacket, wiped away the sweat of his hands on his shorts.
“Seriously—it wasn’t fair to ask this of you.”
“Oh, so you want an out for yourself as much as me.” He tried to jest. Tried to put from his mind the depth of the water. “You afraid I’ll be more than you can handle?”
“Possibly? Probably.” She grimaced. “I wasn’t thinking when I asked you to do this—I was just so caught up in overcoming my fear I guess…I just wanted that for you too.”
Shoot. He didn’t want her to feel bad. And seriously, how bad could it be after all these years?
He’d said it in the forest, and he still knew it was true. He trusted her. If he was ever going to get out on the lake, it’d be with her.
He took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Let’s go.”
“It’s pretty smooth today, but if it gets choppy at all, follow my lead. Turn perpendicular to the waves so you won’t tip. And balancing is a bit like riding a bike.” She winked. “It comes back to you.”
They pulled the kayaks out into the water. Even in summer, the water hit with a sharp, brisk sting. He hopped in, grateful to feel the heat of the sun on his skin.
He could do this. He focused on Beth’s form, let his paddle dig into the water. Found the rhythm of the stroke. Water flicked off the paddles, catching the sunlight.
He focused on the driving paddle. On the dampness of his seat. On the sun warming his skin.
She paddled out into an arc, turning back toward shore before slowing, waiting for him to catch up.
“You’re a natural,” she said. “I should have signed us up for one of the races.”
He wasn’t prepared to see the shoreline quite so far away. Cold prickles rose across his body.
He could practically feel the rain slamming their family boat. Lost. Alone. Waiting for a rescue.
“Grayson?”
“I’ll be…okay.” He hoped.
Maybe not.
Beth’s kayak clunked against his own. She set her paddle across her lap and ran her hand down his arm. Found his fingers. Squeezed.
“We’ll head back in.” Her other hand adjusted her paddle.
He drew in a breath and held up a hand for her to wait. Just let the warmth of her small hand soak into him, soothing the turbulent vortex within. “They argued over whether we should or shouldn’t go.” He lifted his eyes to the horizon.
The kayaks bobbed.
Beth’s hand held firm.
He shook his head. “I don’t know why it was so important to me that day.” He let out a sharp laugh that held no humor. “Why? Why did I have to beg them to go?”
He turned to her and she blinked away the glassiness in her eyes.
“You were a kid,” she said. “You wanted to have time with your family. That’s a good thing.”
He lifted his shoulder. “It had started out just fine—cruising, fishing, laughing. But that storm blew in.” He stopped.
Even without a cloud in sight, the panic of that day lodged in his throat.
And they bobbed there, rocking. Silent except for the laps of water against the plastic hulls.
