“Guilty as charged.” He grinned back at her. “But the question is—did I marry a mad wife?”
“How deep is that water?” She shaded her eyes again and looked dubious.
“About up to your eyebrows at its deepest point,” he said.
“Myraisedeyebrows?”
“Youarea coward,” he said. “Let’s go back to the house, then.”
“We will never fit side by side on that seat,” she said, turning her attention on the boat again.
“Yes, we will,” he said, “provided you do not mind some intimacy. I do not have a right arm to take up room, remember. And you are not very large—yet.”
Her eyes flew to his and she blushed.
“Youareinsane,” she said again. “Let’s do it.”
Itwasa mad suggestion—he did not mind admitting it to himself. He had long ago decided what was difficult but possible—riding a horse, for example—and what was absolutely impossible. Rowing a boat fit into the latter category. But then so did painting. Indeed, that had always been at the top of the list. But he had painted this morning. And now he felt capable of anything. He felt like a veritable Hercules.
The jetty was not as steady as he remembered it. But he walked carefully out onto it and held the boat while she stepped into it—verygingerly and without the aid of his hand since the only one he possessed was holding the boat. She turned and sat on the seat and laughed and looked terrified as she pushed her cloak out of the way of her arms. He climbed in after her, and she edged along the seat to give him room, causing the boat to tip and rock alarmingly. She shrieked and they both laughed.
She had been almost right. They were very tightly packed on the seat.
“I hope,” she said, picking up one of the oars and fitting it into its lock, “I remembered to say my prayers last night.”
“I did if you did not,” he said, grappling with the other oar.
“They cover both of us.”
He unwound the mooring rope and pushed them away from the jetty.
She shrieked and laughed again.
It took them all of half an hour to row across to the island. But as he informed her when they finally pulled onto the beach there and jumped out to drag the boat together up onto dry land, they might have crossed the English Channel and back if only they had proceeded in a straight line instead of meandering around in rough circles for the first twenty minutes while they both tried to recapture the knack of rowing and—once that was more or less accomplished—tried to row in harmony with each other.
They were both laughing so hard that she could scarcely get any words out.
“How on earth are we going to get ba-a-a-ack?” she asked.
“Not on earth,” he said, “unless you want to try running over the lake bottom, Anne. You had better keep your eyebrows raised if you do, though, or you will get them wet. I intend rowing back.”
He took her hand in his, noticed that her palm was red and ridged from the oar, and held it to his lips.
“If you end up with blisters,” he said, “I will never forgive myself.”
“A few blisters would be a small price to pay,” she said, “for the fun of doing this. When did you last havefun,Sydnam? Silly, mad fun like this, I mean?”
He tried to remember and could not.
“It was forever ago,” he said.
“And at least that long ago for me,” she said.
“Thishasbeen fun,” he agreed. “But perhaps we had better wait until we have our feet safely back on the other shore before we pass a final judgment. Come and see the other beach.”
It was a tiny man-made island. But the adjacent side of it had always been a favorite spot, since it offered excellent swimming and faced away from the house, which was well out of sight anyway. The grassy bank sloped gradually into the water and was covered with wildflowers in the summer. Even now some hardy varieties survived. He and his brothers had often swum nude here, but they had never been caught.
“It is really quite blissful here,” Anne said, sitting down and gazing into the water.
