A House at the Bottom of a Lake

2

“Cool,” Amelia said. “It’s green.”

It was cool. A green canoe with brown trim. It looked like the kind of canoe you’d find in a history book, two Native Americans seated inside.

“It’s sturdy, too,” James’s uncle Bob said. His jean shorts and open flannel were straight out of 1995. “But that doesn’t mean it won’t tip.”

Amelia and James exchanged glances. They were already ankle-deep in the cold water.

They hardly knew each other at all.

“We won’t stand up in her,” James said. “I know better.”

“I do, too,” Amelia said.

“You’ve canoed before?” Uncle Bob asked her.

Amelia blushed.

“I wouldn’t say I’ve canoed, you know, but I’ve been in one. Yeah. Is that canoeing?”

Uncle Bob laughed and lifted the paddles from inside the boat.

“These are solid cherrywood. Don’t ask why. Trish wanted them that way. I don’t think she’s used them since we got them. But heck, you two get to use some pretty fancy paddles.”

Bob eyed the cooler James had already placed in the canoe.

“I don’t mind if you two have some beers out there, but be careful, all right?” He turned to Amelia. “How old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

Bob considered this. But not for very long.

“A couple of seventeen-year-olds,” he said. His eyes got glassy. Like he was remembering seventeen. “Awesome.”

When James got to the front of the canoe he was shin-deep. He stepped over the edge and sat down on the front bench. Amelia got into the back behind him.

“Thank you for this, Bob,” Amelia said.

“Absolutely.” He placed a sandaled foot on the back end of the canoe. “Now go be seventeen.”

He pushed them out into the water.