Page 45 of Where Are You Now
“Come with me to get the canoe. I’ll probably need your fancy footwork to open the shed latch again.”
Her mother waved her sewing. “I’ll be between the office sewing machine and the sofa if y’all need me. Just shout.”
Ava and Lucas went outside and rounded the house to the shed. He pried open the latch and tugged on the old wooden door.
“The canoe’s under that sheet back there.” Ava pointed toit. “Want to help me clear a path so we can drag it onto the grass?”
“Sure.”
Lucas moved a few paint cans out of the way and repositioned the old lawn mower. Ava assisted, scooting some boxes of tools to the side. When they both got to the boat, Lucas pulled off the sheet; the musty plume of dust made Ava cough.
“I’ve got it,” he said. “Wait in the grass, and I’ll get it.”
She stepped out of the shed as Lucas shimmied the wooden canoe to shimmy it through the opening. His biceps shone through his pullover. She didn’t remember those muscles on the skinny boy who’d fished with her in her youth.
Lucas strained as he made it out of the shed with the heavy boat, through the brush, lifting it over the walk and setting it onto the grass beside her. He clapped his hands on the thighs of his jeans and peered down at the boat.
Ava ducked back inside and grabbed the oars and the small anchor, filling her arms with other supplies. She carried out everything and dropped them into the canoe.
“It’s been quite a while since I’ve seen this thing,” he said. “Your dad let me come on one of your fishing trips here—remember? We were probably fourteen or so. We ate enough Oreos to feed an army.”
“I’d forgotten about that! I had a stomach ache from eating so many.”
Ava dared not tell him that her dad had pulled her aside after that day and told her that any man who could fish like Lucas and hold a conversation with him all afternoon would be husband material for his daughter. In fact, it had been her father who’d shared in her disappointment when Lucas had moved away.
While they organized the supplies, she slipped into the memory of that day.
Ava had buried her head in her dad’s chest when she’d gotten home after watching Lucas drive away.
“Damn,” her dad had said under his breath.
Ava looked up at her dad through her tears, confused by his comment. “What?” she mumbled through her blubbering lips.
He shook his head, not telling her.
She pushed herself off his chest and looked into his eyes. “What is it, Dad?”
“Nothin’.”
But later he’d admitted that he’d always thought, one day, he’d “give her away to that boy.”
Could her father see them now? Did he know they’d been brought back together?
Ava went around to one end of the canoe and raised it while Lucas grabbed the other side. They carried the boat to the back of the house and set it on the shore.
“We just need the fishing rods,” she said.
They climbed the single step onto the deck. The rods and tackle box were still there against the house. Ava removed the paper from the unused fishing pole and discarded the wrapping inside. They each took a rod, and Lucas picked up the tackle box, then they headed down to the water’s edge.
“Want to take the front of the boat?” he asked as he shifted the canoe until the front half bobbed in the lake. The water lapped quietly around it. “That way, I can do the pushing to get us into the water.”
Ava placed her pole inside the vessel and made her way to the front, sitting on the small slat of lacquered wood. She held onto the sides as the canoe rocked gently while Lucas put his force behind it. He got in, and the boat wobbled with his movement, but the two of them knew just how to lean to straighten it out, their years of doing so evidently still muscle memory. He picked up the oars and began paddling them into the center of the lake.
The air was cooler out on the water, under a canopy of brightly colored foliage. Birds sang in the trees, and the breeze blew just enough to let them know it was there. The calm water was so clear the mosquitofish and darters were visible, shooting around under the surface.
Lucas maneuvered the canoe to a shady spot under a tree and dropped the anchor. He reached for the tackle box and opened it, threading a spinnerbait onto her line.
“You cast first,” he said.
