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While the Chris part of him wanted to argue that they shouldn’t show Zane boating without a life vest—he was writing for teens, after all—Zane wouldn’t say that. Chris didn’t need a life vest, and the lake was so small and calm that Daphne would only have them for guests. This was something he could agree to, suppressing only a small pang of discomfort.
“All right then,” he said. “We will forgo the vests tonight.” He peered out at the lake. “She’s a sheet of glass, and there isn’t another soul on her. Perfect.”
He still needed to go into the shed for the fishing rods and tackle. He might not understand the differences between different guns, knives, and axes, but here he could point out that “Zane” had equipment for fly-fishing, regular angling, and deep-sea fishing. He took the correct gear box and felt rather Zane-smug for not needing to hesitate.
With the box and rods in hand, Chris strode toward the dock. The path took him to a small beach-like area, with a tiny bit of sand and a gradual walkout. The dock was off to the right, and he hadn’t been that way yet, but he’d seen it, along with a kayak moored on this side and another small boat on the opposite side. It wouldn’t exactly be his grandparents’ cabin cruiser, but on a lake this small, you wouldn’t even get up to speed with that.
Chris reached the dock and saw the second boat… which was… a canoe.
He turned to see Daphne walking over, carrying two paddles.
“You forgot these, sir,” she said.
“I thought we’d take the motor boat tonight.”
She laughed, the slightly-too-loud laugh that he’d come to know was her “on-screen” laugh for the crew. “Oh, you’re very funny, sir.” She turned to the others. “It’s an in-joke. The lake is for nonmotorized vehicles only. Every now and then someone tries to get that changed to allow motorized fishing boats, but Mr. Remington leads the charge to oppose it. He’s such a conservationist.”
“Yes,” he said quickly, puffing up with self-importance as he launched into Zane-pontificating mode. “No one likes the sound of motors on a quiet lake, but they also disturb the local ecosystem, particularly nesting waterfowl. The best way to enjoy streams and lakes is”—he waved at the kayak and canoe—“silently gliding along and truly enjoying nature, in all her glory.”
Which presumes you have some vague idea how to operate either of those vessels.
He thought he was keeping his expression Zane-confident, but a little of his panic must have leaked out, because when she passed over the oar—paddle?—she lightly squeezed his hand.
“Now, sir,” she said. “Tell me you’re going to let me take the back tonight.” She glanced at the crew. “The person in front just has to paddle. The one in back steers. It’s the driver’s seat, so to speak, and Mr. Remington really likes being in the driver’s seat.”
“I do,” Chris said with a blazing smile that was relief. “However, having written a book with a very capable female protagonist, I would be the last person to suggest that I should drive by sheer dint of being male. Dana is, dare I admit it, an even better paddler than I am.”
“You’re too kind, sir.” Daphne looked around. “Seems like the paddles weren’t the only thing you forgot. Weren’t you getting the life vests?”
“We decided against them,” Sofia cut in. “Now, if everyone is ready…”
Chris moved past Daphne, who was holding the canoe steady. As she’d pointed out—allegedly for Sofia—the front person got in first.
As Chris moved past Daphne toward the bow, he whispered, “I really can fish, D. And swim. It’ll be okay.”
She still looked worried. Maybe she hadn’t heard him? They’d talk more once they were out of the crew’s earshot.
He sat on the front seat and glanced back. Daphne gave a tight nod, which he hoped meant he was sitting correctly. Had he ever been in a canoe before? He wasn’t sure. If he had, it was so long ago he didn’t remember anything about it.
As Daphne arranged herself, the crew switched on the cameras. Chris had requested they film Dana only from the back or a great distance “for her privacy.”
Chris looked at the nearest camera and said, “Like many lakes in the Yukon, this is a glacial one. That means a glacier eroded the land and then melted. You may have noticed in Edge that Theo usually camps along a lake like this, for fishing and fresh water and, if it’s not winter, a quick swim for bathing.” He reached over the side to touch the water. “And I do mean quick.” An exaggerated shiver. “Glacial lake, glacial temperatures.”
It actually wasn’t that bad. He wouldn’t exactly be leaping off the dock for a morning dip, but he wouldn’t die of hypothermia if he fell in. And on that note, the entire purpose of his little speech had been to avoid falling in… because talking to the camera gave him the chance to watch how Daphne sat and how she used her paddle.
“I suppose I should help,” he said, loud enough for the cameras to hear.
“Heaven forbid,” Daphne said. “You just sit there and talk, sir. You’re better at that anyway.”
He rolled his eyes dramatically, took one last look at how she operated her paddle before he twisted around in his seat.
Hold it like this, one hand above the other, with a gap between them. Move from the shoulders and waist, dipping the paddle in and out.
Soon they were flying through the still water, and he’d love to think that was him, but he wasn’t the only one in this canoe with some serious muscles.
They were about a hundred feet from shore when Sofia shouted, “We forgot to mic you!”
Her voice carried easily in the silence of the lake, but Chris pretended he couldn’t hear and only waved, as if she were wishing them bon voyage.
