A House at the Bottom of a Lake

3

“This is the lake,” James said. Then he snapped his fingers, like trying to catch the words as they left him. Of course it was the lake.

“It’s gorgeous,” Amelia said.

James was paddling on the right side of the canoe. Amelia paddled on the left and steered.

Her eyes traveled to the rippling surface of the water.

It was a great blue, the kind of blue you painted.

Amelia felt like she was painting, the oar as her brush. As though all this beauty fanned out from the simple motions she and James made.

“What do you think is down there?’ she asked. Then wished she hadn’t. The question made it sound like she was scared. What’s in there? “I mean… what kind of fish?”

She didn’t have the heart to tell James that his shorts were hanging a little low and she could see the very top of his plumber’s crack.

Plumber’s crack. Hardware store. This made her smile.

“All kinds,” James said, not sure of the answer. “Bass… I think.”

He wanted to tell her there was something magical in this lake. A buried treasure. A mysterious shipwreck. A monster.

He also regretted sitting up front. He couldn’t see her from here.

He turned around to face her.

His eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses, his fair brown hair wet with sweat from the paddling. And beyond him was the endless blue. But no… not endless. The lake was bordered neatly by the shoreline, the toes of the feet of mountains. And the mountains were covered with trees.

There were many homes at the base of the mountains. A-frames and ranches. Decks where the families no doubt sat outside, drank coffee, watched the sun rise and set on the lake. Amelia wondered what kind of animals lived between the trees. Between the houses.

A boat’s engine revved, and James looked ahead again. Amelia saw a speedboat far to the right, cresting the shoreline as if creating it. Watching the four people in bikinis and briefs on board, she was surprised to find she liked the idea of the canoe better. The green canoe with the brown trim. Old school. She looked to the cooler between them, knew that James had brought some beers. Some sandwiches. It felt so much… classier. Paddling instead of revving. Talking instead of howling. Seeing instead of racing by.

A sudden shrill scream and both James and Amelia saw one of the girls in the speedboat laughing, leaning over the back edge, too close to the motor, flailing her arms toward the wake.

She was drunk. Carefree. Having a blast.

James worried that Amelia might think the speedboat looked like more fun. It did look fun. And here he was sweating in his uncle’s canoe while some other guys with a real boat were making girls scream all over the lake.

He looked over his shoulder, trying to gauge her enthusiasm.

She was beautiful. Just gorgeous. Truly. Her auburn hair looked especially vivid against the backdrop of blue lake behind her. He wasn’t sure exactly where he’d found the nerve to ask her out. He just did it. The canoe, the lake, all of this just came pouring out of him because it was the first fun thing he thought of. And now he needed more nerve. More confidence. Where did it go?

Was she having fun?

James turned away from her, looked ahead again.

Something jumped in the water. James pointed.

“Did you see that?” he called over his shoulder.

“No, but I heard it.”

“That was big.”

“How big?”

The ripples left behind spread wide.

“I don’t know. Like the size of a loaf of bread?”

Amelia snorted a stifled laugh. Then she snickered. Then she laughed outright.

“The size of a loaf of bread? What the hell does that mean?”

She laughed harder.

James laughed, too.

“I swear. It was like a loaf of rye bread just leapt right out of the water.”

Amelia almost told him that made her hungry. But really it didn’t. It made her think of soggy bread.

Jesus, she thought. You’re just thinking of things to say. And guys notice that! Guys notice when girls are just trying to think of something to say.

James thought, Shit. Those guys in that boat are thrilling the bikinis off those girls and I’m bringing up rye bread. Come on!

Then James ducked to pick something up at his feet and Amelia saw the horizon split by his hunched form. The mountains fanned out on either side of the canoe’s tip. It was incredible.

James popped back up, and between his forefinger and thumb he held a spider.

“A spider!” he said, and Amelia could see it was a big one. Big enough.

She searched the floor near her shoes. Searched the towel she sat on.

“Shit,” she said.

“You don’t like him?”

“No… I mean… it’s not that I don’t like him…”

“Scared of spiders? A little? I’ll get rid of him.”

“No! Where would you put him?”

James looked to either side of the canoe.

“The water?”

“No, no. That’s terrible. I can’t live knowing that he was sent out to sea because of me.”

Can’t live? Out to sea? Amelia felt like everything she said was wrong. Didn’t define her. Didn’t explain her to James.

“Well, shoot. Looks like he stays, then.”

But he wanted to help her. Didn’t want her to be scared. The guys in the speedboat probably killed spiders all day.

“Okay,” Amelia said. “But maybe keep an eye on him for me?”

James set the spider down on the tip of the canoe. He pointed ahead.

“Look there,” he said. “That’s the entrance to the second lake. No homes at all on that one.”

Amelia glanced to a roof jutting from the trees at the base of the mountains. As if it were sinking. Or hiding.

“Sounds cool,” she said.

They paddled toward the second lake.