Page 36 of Big & Lily

“A bit of Grizzly Track Adventures magic,” Brick says to the boy and winks at his assistant Jace.

“We share a shed back there with a few other outfitters, yeah,” says Jace. “Fly ’em out at the start of the season, bring ’em back before the snow comes.”

“That’s not magic,” says Xavier.

“Yeah, no, it’s not. But the rest of today will be. There are tandem boats if you want a paddling buddy. Or singles if you’re needing to enjoy some peace and quiet on the water.”

The idea of peace and quiet is the perfect antidote after last night, so I step in front of a single boat. I could use a break from Lily, to be honest, and I’ve had enough of pairing up for one day.

“You can follow me or find you own way. You can’t go wrong in any direction. Word to the wise, don’t climb on the icebergs, ha. And don’t miss that girl over there. We call her the Tunnel of Love. This year she’s formed that opening and you can paddle through it. You are very lucky to see this. The ice in the tunnel is clear blue glass, thousands of years old. By next week it might be gone. Things are always moving and changing here. That’s the beauty of this land. Every day is different.”

Jace begins to explain the pile of gear in front of each kayak and how to use it, just as Lily hops into a green boat meant for only one person and paddles off. I guess she doesn’t want to hear it from me today either. Fine. Peace and quiet it is.

Jace helps me as I climb into the kayak with wobbly legs. I begin to worry about my own seaworthiness. “What if I fall in?”

“Don’t do that,” he warns. “That’s glacier melt, that lake. You’ll freeze your ass off.”

“What if I row out there and can’t get back?”

“Have fun,” he yells as he pushes my boat into the water.

The surface of the lake ripples around me. Quietly, smoothly, I’m gliding across gray satin. I dip my oar and pull it through the water the way Brick showed us earlier. The boat picks up a little speed. I keep my strokes slow and even, and I make steady progress toward a series of seemingly small floating ice mountains that grow larger as I approach. Everything is quiet except for the whisper of water flowing past the sides of the boat. Even the laughing and shouting from my fellow travelers fades as we all head in differentdirections. I can’t see Lily anywhere, but that’s just fine with me. I lift my oar from the water and lay it across my lap. The boat drifts, and I take a deep breath. I let my fingers graze the water but pull them back after they become tingly and red. A cloud shifts, and the sun dials up all the colors. Even with the silty water, the snowcapped mountains in the distance reflect off the lake, making a perfect upside-down mirrored world.

I pick up my oar and paddle over to a large chunk of floating ice. It towers over me, and I think of the saying “that’s just the tip of the iceberg.” I hear giggles tripping across the water, and in the distance, I see Luna and Mimi’s boat tucked into the Tunnel of Love.

I paddle around the iceberg and head to the greener shoreline. When my arms and back get tired, I let myself drift. Nowhere to go, nowhere to be. No appointments or laundry lists of responsibilities today. Closer to the shore, I hear a squawk and tilt my head to see a bald eagle in a tree. I dip my oar back in the water and paddle toward the bird. That’s when I see the empty kayak. The same green one Lily set off in.

Chapter Eighteen

It’s definitely Lily’s kayak. And it’s definitely empty.

The boat is half on a stony beach, half in the water. From this distance I can see the oar lying on the ground a few feet from it. Beyond that, in front of a line of bigger rocks and tall scrub and a splash of purple flowers, is her orange life jacket. But there is no Lily in sight. Now I know what people mean when they say their heart is in their throat. I can taste it as panic shoves it upward.

“Lily! Lily!” I shout, not sure my voice is reaching the shore.

Digging my oar deep into the water, I row with a strength that surprises me. The wind chooses now to pick up. I grit my teeth and lean into it. “Lily! Lily!” I shout again. Nothing.

At the beach my boat lurches to a halt as I hit solid ground. I unsnap my spray skirt and jump out of the boat. My boots land in a foot of the very water Jace warned me about, but I don’t feel the cold. I leave the kayak to bob on the tiny waves lapping the shore and stride over to the abandoned life jacket, calling my sister’s name over and over again. I wade through the scrub, the now-familiar feeling of water squishing in my boots. It’s hotter here off the water, my layers and vest, the spray skirt still around my waist, and the exertion all making sweat pour from my forehead. I wipe it away from my eyes and scan the area, starting to fear what I could find. Has she been out here long enough to be attacked by a bear or a wolf or some crazed mountain man? I only have a moment tolet my imagination run away from me, because suddenly the grass parts and there is Lily coming out from behind a stand of trees.

“Dammit, Lily. Did you hear me screaming your name?”

“The whole lake heard you.”

“Why are you out of your boat? What’s wrong?”

“I think my boat is sinking.”

“How is that possible?”

“I don’t know, Big. I’m not a sea captain, but there’s like two inches of water in the bottom, and I’m not thrilled about dying an icy death.”

“Did you snap in your spray skirt?”

“My what?”

As has been the way a million times before, fear and concern for my sister turns to exasperation. I pull on the peplum-like plastic fabric around my waist. “This. This is a spray skirt. Brick told us that you have to snap it around the opening of the kayak or water from the oars is going to soak you. You’d know that if you hadn’t taken off like a bat out of hell.”

Lily’s hands go to her hips, and she gives me a glare from under pinched eyebrows.