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SHE WAS RIGHT. Noah was up before the sun and dressed quickly, same jeans as last night, undershirt, clean flannel shirt, blue jacket and boots. He drank a quick glass of milk and grabbed two biscuits on the way out of the door. After Clem greeted him with a couple of sloppy licks, he walked to the dock where his kayak was stored. He liked to let the river work its magic, loosening up his muscles, warming his body, clearing his mind.

The old kayak, well used and river-stained, hung on two rusty hooks attached to his dock, just above the water line. He lifted it free, inspected it quickly, then took it to the hank. In a couple of seasoned moves, long since mastered by habit, he had it in the water and was working his way upstream, paddling hard, working off the tension, preparing for the day.

Questions danced in his mind. He wondered about Lon and what type of man he was, wondered about their relationship. Most of all, though, he wondered about Allie and why she had come.

By the time he reached Home, he felt renewed. Checking his watch, he was surprised to find that it had taken two hours. Time always played tricks out there.

He hung the kayak to dry and went to the shed where he stored his two-man canoe. He carried it to the hank, leaving it a few feet from the water, and turned towards the house. In the western sky he saw storm clouds, thick and heavy, far off but definitely present. The winds weren’t blowing hard but they were bringing the clouds closer. From the look of them he didn’t want to he outside when they got here. Damn. How much time did he have? A few hours, maybe more.

He showered, put on new jeans, a red shirt and black cowboy boots, brushed his hair and went downstairs to the kitchen. He did the dishes from the night before, picked up a little around the house, made himself some Coffee and went to the porch. The sky was darker now and he checked the barometer. Steady, but it would start dropping soon.

He’d learned long ago to never underestimate the weather, and he wondered if it was a good idea to go out. The rain he could deal with, lightning was a different story. A canoe was no place to he when electricity sparked in humid air.

He finished his Coffee, putting off the decision until later. He went to the toolshed and found his axe. After checking the blade by pressing his thumb to it, he sharpened it with a whetstone until it was ready.

He spent the next twenty minutes splitting and stacking logs. He did it easily, his strokes efficient, and didn’t break a sweat. He put a few logs off to the side for later and brought them inside when he was finished, stacking them by the fireplace.

He looked at Allie’s painting and reached out to touch it, bringing back the feelings of disbelief at seeing her again. God, what was it about her that made him feel this way? Even after all these years? What sort of power did she have over him?

He finally turned away, shaking his head, and went back to the porch. He checked the barometer again. It hadn’t changed. Then he looked at his watch.

Allie should he here soon.

ALLIE SPENT the morning downtown. The Depression had taken its toll, but she could see signs of prosperity beginning to work their way hack. Fort Totten Park looked exactly the same as it had fourteen years ago, and the kids who played on the swings after school probably looked the same as well. She smiled at the memory then, thinking back to when things were simpler. Or at least had seemed to be.

Now, nothing was simple. She wondered what she would have been doing now, had she never seen the article in the paper. It wasn’t very difficult to imagine, because her routines seldom changed. It was Wednesday, which meant bridge at the country club, then on to the Junior Women’s League, where they would probably he arranging another fund-raiser for the private school or hospital. After that, a visit to her mother, then Home to get ready for dinner with Lon, because he made it a point to leave work by seven. It was the one night a week she saw him regularly.

She suppressed a feeling of sadness about that, hoping that one day he would change. He had often promised to and usually followed through for a few weeks before drifting back to the same schedule. “I can’t tonight, honey.” he would explain, “I’m sorry, but I can’t. Let me make it up to you later.”

She didn’t like to argue, mostly because she knew he was telling the truth. Trial work was demanding, both beforehand and during, yet she couldn’t help wondering sometimes why he had spent so much time courting her if he didn’t want to spend time with her now.

She passed an art gallery on Front Street, almost walked by it in her preoccupation, then turned and went back. She paused at the door for a second, surprised at how long it had been since she’d been in one. At least three years, maybe longer.

She went inside and browsed among the paintings. Many of the artists were local, and there was a strong sea flavour to their works.

On one wall, though, there were a few paintings more suited to her tastes, by an artist she’d never heard of. Most appeared to have been inspired by the architecture of the Greek islands. In the painting she liked the best, she noted the artist had purposely exaggerated the scene with smaller-than-life figures, wide lines and heavy sweeps of vivid, swirling colour, drawing the eye, almost directing what it should see next. It was dynamic, dramatic. She considered buying it before she realized that she liked it because it reminded her of her own work. She examined it more closely and thought to herself that maybe Noah was right. Maybe she should start painting again.

At nine thirty Allie left the gallery and went to Hoffman-Lane, a department store. It took a few minutes to find what she was looking for. Paper, drawing chalk and pencils, not high quality but good enough. It wasn’t painting, but it was a start, and she was excited by the time she got back to her room.

She sat at the desk and started working: nothing specific, just getting the feel of it again, letting shapes and colours flow from the memory of her youth. After a few minutes, she did a rough sketch of the street scene as seen from her room, amazed at how easily it came. It was almost as if she’d never stopped.

She examined it when she was finished, pleased with the effort. She wondered what to try next and finally decided. Since she didn’t have a model, she visualized it in her head before starting. And though it was harder than the street scene, it began to take form.

Minutes passed quickly. She worked steadily, checking the time frequently so she wouldn’t be late, and finished it a little before noon. It had taken almost two hours, but the end result surprised her. It looked as though it had taken a great deal longer. After rolling it up, she put it in a bag and collected the rest of her things. On her way out of the door, she looked at herself in the mirror, feeling oddly relaxed, not exactly sure why.

Down the stairs again and out of the door. As she left she heard a voice behind her. “Miss?”

She turned. The manager. The same man as yesterday, a curious look on his face.

“Yes?”

“You had some calls last night.”

She was shocked. “I did?”

“Yes. All from a Mr. Hammond.”

Oh, God. “Lon called?”

“Yes, ma’am, four times. He was concerned about you. He said he was your fiancé.”

She smiled weakly, trying to hide what she was thinking. Four times? Four? What could that mean? What if something had happened back Home? “Did he say anything? Is it an emergency?”

He shook his head quickly. “He really didn’t say, miss. Actually, he sounded more concerned about you.”

Good, she thought. That’s good. And then, just as suddenly, a pang in her chest. Why so many calls? Had she said anything yesterday? Why would he be so persistent? It was completely unlike him. Was there any way he could have found out? No, that was impossible. Unless someone saw her here yesterday and called… But they would have had to follow her out to Noah’s. No one would have done that.

She had to call him now: no way to get around it. But she didn’t want to. This was her time, and she wanted to spend it doing what she wanted. She hadn’t planned on speaking to him until later, and she felt almost as if talking to him now would spoil the day. Besides, what was she going to say? How could she explain being out so late? A late dinner and then a walk? Maybe. Or a movie? Or.

“Miss?”

Almost noon, she thought. Where would he be? His office, probably . . . no. In court, she suddenly realized, and immediately felt as if she’d been released from shackles. There was no way she could talk to him, even if she wanted to. She was surprised by her feelings. She shouldn’t feel this way, she knew, and yet it didn’t bother her. She looked at her watch, acting now.

“Is it really almost twelve?”

The manager looked at the clock. “Yes, a quarter to.”

“Unfortunately,” she started, “he’s in court right now and I can’t reach him. If he does call again, could you tell him I’m shopping and that I’ll try to call him later?”

“Of course,” he answered. She could see the question in his eyes, though: But where were you last night? He had known exactly when she’d come in. Too late for a single woman in this small town.

“Thank you.” she said, smiling. “I’d appreciate it.”

Two minutes later she was in her car, driving to Noah’s, anticipating the day, largely unconcerned about the phone calls. Yesterday she would have been, and she wondered what that meant.

As she was driving over the drawbridge less than four minutes after she’d left the inn, Lon called from the courthouse.

CHAPTER SIX: SWANS AND STORM

NOAH WAS sitting in his rocker, drinking sweet tea, listening for the car, when he finally heard it turn up the drive. He went around to the front and watched the car pull up and park beneath the oak tree again. Same spot as yesterday. Clem harked a greeting at her car door, tail wagging, and Noah saw Allie wave from inside the car.

She stepped out, patted Clem on the head, then turned, smiling. It was different today, though. Newer feelings now, not simply memories any more. If anything, his attraction for her had grown stronger overnight, and it made him feel a little nervous in her presence.

Allie met him halfway, carrying a small bag. She surprised him by kissing him gently on the cheek, her free hand lingering at his waist after she pulled back.

“Hi,” she said, radiance in her eyes, “where’s the surprise?” He relaxed a little, thanking God for that. “Not even a ‘good afternoon’ or ‘how was your night?’”

She smiled. Patience had never been one of her strongest attributes.

“Fine. Good afternoon. How was your night? And where’s the surprise?”

He chuckled lightly, then paused. “Allie, I’ve got some bad news. I was going to take you someplace, but with those clouds coming in I’m not sure we should go.”

“Its not raining yet How far is it?”

“Up the creek about a mile.”

“And I’ve never been there before?”

“Not when it was like this.”

She thought for a second while she looked around. When she spoke, her voice was determined. “Then we’ll go. I don’t care if it rains.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

He looked at the clouds again, noting their approach. “Then we’d better go now,” he said. “Can I bring that in for you?’

She nodded, handing her bag to him, and he jogged to the house and took it inside, placing it on a chair in the living room. Then he grabbed some bread and put it in a bag, bringing it with him as he left the house.

They walked to the canoe, Allie beside him. A little closer than yesterday.

“What exactly is this place?”

“You’ll see.”

“You’re not even going to give me a hint?”

“Well,” he said, “do you remember when we took the canoe out and watched the sun come up?”

“I thought about it this morning. I remember it made me cry?’

“What you’re going to sec today makes what you saw then seem ordinary?

“I guess I should feel special.”

He took a few steps before responding. “You are special,” he finally said, and the way he said it made her wonder if he wanted to add something else. But he didn’t, and Allie smiled a little before glancing away. As she did, she felt the wind in her face and noticed it had picked up since the morning.

They reached the jetty and, after tossing the bag in the canoe, Noah quickly checked to make sure he hadn’t missed anything, then slid the canoe to the water.

Can I do anything?”

“No, just get in.”

After she climbed in, he pushed the canoe further into the water. Then he gracefully stepped off the jetty into the canoe, placing his feet carefully to prevent it from capsizing. Allie was impressed by his agility, knowing that what he had done so quickly and easily was harder than it looked.

She sat at the front of the canoe, facing backwards. Noah had said something about missing the view when he started to paddle, but she’d shaken her head, saying she was fine the way she was.

And it was true. She could see everything she really wanted to see if she turned her head, but most of all she wanted to watch Noah. It was him she’d come to see, not the creek. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top, and she could see his chest muscles flex with every stroke. His sleeves were rolled up too, and she could see the well-developed muscles in his arms.

Artistic, she thought. There’s something almost artistic about him. Something natural, as if being on the water were beyond his control, part of a gene passed on to him from some obscure hereditary pool.

She couldn’t think of anyone else who remotely resembled him. He was complicated, almost contradictory in so many ways, yet simple, a strangely erotic combination. On the surface he was a country boy, Home from war, and he probably saw himself in those terms. Yet there was so much more to him. Perhaps it was the poetry that made him different, or perhaps it was the values his father had instilled in him, growing up. Either way, he seemed to savour life more fully than others appeared to, and that was what had first attracted her to him.

“What arc you thinking?”

She felt her insides jump just a hit as Noah’s voice brought her back to the present. She realized she hadn’t said much since they’d started, and she appreciated the silence he had allowed her. He’d always been considerate like that.

“Good things,” she answered quietly, and she saw in his eyes that he knew she was thinking about him. She liked the fact that he knew it, and she hoped he had been thinking about her as well.

She understood then that something was stirring within her, as it had so many years ago. Watching his body move made her feel it. And as their eyes met for a second, she felt the heat in her neck and breasts, and she flushed, turning away before he noticed.

“How much further?” she asked.

“Another half-mile or so. Not any more than that.”

A pause. Then she said: “Tell me, Noah, what do you remember most from the summer we spent together?”