“Blessing in disguise,” Annie said. “If we capsize, we’ll be drenched anyway, so it won’t matter.”
She laughed again and Daniel’s heart soared with the sound; his favorite in the world. This woman was a bubble in a bottle. No matter which way life tipped her, she would always find her way to the top. To joy.
“So, it’s finished?” She nodded down at the narrow boat.
“Not quite.” Daniel moved behind it. “I still need to sand and seal the inside, but she’s seaworthy. Or ‘lakeworthy,’ anyway. Should get us across to the south shore and back so we can check the traps. Come on, I’ll push, you pull.”
Daniel crouched behind the canoe and pressed his shoulder against the wooden bow as Annie tugged on the stern. Despite its weight, it moved with surprising agility over the slick earth and slid easily into the lake. Daniel climbed in first and helped Annie aboard, then gripped the new wooden paddle he’d purchased in town and gently shoved the canoe away from the shore and into open water.
“It’s a little different than the skiff,” he said, stating the obvious as they teetered side to side. The canoe was long and narrow, and round underneath. Logs were built to roll, and though he’d done a fair bit of chiseling to steady it, it would be a miracle if they made it across the lake without tipping at least once.
Slowly, Daniel paddled forward, trying to get a feel for the craft as it wavered in the water. With each slight wobble, Annie threw her arms out comically, then gripped the sides, laughing in that infectious sort of way that drew out his own rumbling chuckle.
Daniel could no longer ignore the startling suspicion that he was falling in love with this woman. She was all the adolescent crushes he’d missed out on rolled into one, and though his days and nights and thoughts and dreams were saturated with her, it never felt like enough. He was falling for her goodness, her light, her laughter, and most of allfor the way she made him believe that there could be more to his life than lonely isolation.
He’d been afraid for seven years. Afraid of people in town finding out who he was. Afraid of going to prison, or worse, of having to face down his past in Redmond. But Annie made him believe he didn’t have to be afraid anymore. She was the first person who made him feel safe enough to show his true self—when he told her his story, and she didn’t run.
After several strokes, Daniel got the hang of the canoe and paddled swiftly, slicing through the rain-puckered water in a determined rhythm.
Yes, his fear was lessening, but it wasn’t falling off in pieces. It was like a snake skin; overtight and constricting as he wriggled slowly out, toward the sweet, open air on the other side. It was happening in small steps, and he was determined to keep taking them.
Annie had gone quiet as she watched the drops dancing on the surface around them, and Daniel felt a certain stab of conviction. Yes. Steps forward. He needed to come clean to Annie about the lie he’d told her.
Daniel paddled for a few more strokes as the guilt slowly inflated inside him. It had to be done. Perhaps he should tell her now. Being out in the rain was as good a time as any to come clean.
His paddling slowed, blade dragging in the water.
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
The urgency in his voice brought Annie’s eyes to his face in concern.
“About what?” she asked, nearly shouting over rain that was thickening now, here in the middle of the lake, turning the surface percussive around them.
Daniel swallowed with difficulty and started paddling again. “About the attempted murder part of the story. Remember that night by the fire when I said Gary lied to the press and made it all up?”
Annie nodded.
“That wasn’t… that wasn’t entirely true.”
A sharp pain twisted in Daniel’s chest as he watched the color drain from her face.
The rain fell hard between them, streaking her cheeks and falling in drops from her jaw unnoticed as she stared mutely.
“You better tell me what you’re talking about,” she said above the torrent. “I swear, Daniel, you better tell me right now.”
Daniel nodded, sweeping the wet hair away from his eyes with a soaked sleeve.
“I know. I wanted to tell you before, but it’s… it’s hard to talk about.”
It was worse than hard. It was like tearing open an old wound that had never fully healed and exposing it to salt air. It felt impossible.
Annie said nothing, only stared with her mouth set, her hair dark with rain and plastered to her head and shoulders.
“The night before I ran away, I was down in the basement.” He hated how loud the words had to come out to be heard over the downpour. “I pulled out some of the wires in the walls and severed them, then dumped a bottle of water on the floor to make a puddle.”
The memory was coming up now in one acid gush, like vomit, and even as Daniel dipped the paddle into the water, he felt himself back there in the cellar, terrified in the dark.
“The human body is a conductor. Step a bare foot into water and touch wires with enough voltage running through them, it’ll kill a grown man. Fairly quickly, too.”
