Shanna tried to smile. “Come on. I’m sure it will be easy.”
Kayaking was the devil’s sport.
It looked easy, elegant, even, when Shanna had watched people drift along the water surface, graceful and smooth, like they were one with the sea. And for the first few minutes, she felt elegant and graceful, too.
That was before the pain in her arm muscles set in.
“Don’t veer further to the right,” Simon said, paddling in the boat next to her.
“You’re too far to the left,” she shot back. “You’re going to scrape the rocks.”
“You’re going to get run over by a boat.”
“I’m going to kill you both,” Chris said from up in front.
Shanna sighed. They’d been paddling along the fjord for an hour, and at this point, she could only hope she’d soon transcend her pain. But at least they were given stunning views of dozens of waterfalls, painting strips of white onto the steep, forested mountains, and disappearing in the mists far above.
If only they could find the right one.
She brought out the photo, protected from the drizzle with plastic wrap. “Not that one, either.”
An hour more passed, with them doing short stops along the way to take in the views and stretch their arms. Some waterfalls were short, running from the cliff straight into the sea; others draped for hundreds of yards down the mountainside, like scratches on its surface. Shanna did indeed forget about the pain at some point, and shifted into an automatic mode, where she managed to steadily paddle onwards. The job still wasn’t easy, with her and Simon having to stay so close.
“Hey.” He paddled next to her as they stopped for another break. “You’re doing okay?”
“We should’ve done a spell for strength, too,” she joked.
He smiled at her, then gazed further up the fjord. “I might be annoyed now, but I think I’ll miss it later.”
“Me, too.”
He nudged his boat closer still, until it bonked hers. She giggled and bonked him back. She was going to miss all of it—him, as well.
A sharp whistle interrupted their game. Chris had stopped further ahead, and was staring at them with the stern expression of a schoolteacher. “Hey, is this your waterfall?”
Shanna grabbed her paddle and, with renewed zeal, paddled down past a pointy rock blocking her view of the small bay beyond. She lifted her photo to check against the waterfall that had revealed itself. The waters were grayer, but the perfectly white, thin stream dropping from the cliff was the same.
The hand with the photo dropped into her lap as she stared at the waterfall, as if enchanted by the long stream and the mist of droplets, converging at the bottom. They found it.
They found their last stop.
Chapter 18
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Jane said.
“Like what?” Armando approached in smooth, stalking steps.
“Like you’re a hunter, and I’m the prey.”
“You’re not the prey.” He stopped an inch from her; with her back, Jane brushed the side of the tent. “But you are the hottest thing in this jungle.”
Shanna gasped, staring at the TV screen, where Armando led Jane into the tent, and saxophone music started playing. She let out a yelp and covered Mom’s eyes with her hand. “No, Mommy, don’t watch!”
Mom laughed, gently removing Shanna’s hand.
“They’re doing the dirty,” Shanna said. She still hadn’t quite decided if she wanted to keep watching or if it was too disgusting.
“You can’t even see anything, just a bit of leg,” Mom said. “And also, it’s romantic.”
