Lovie’s Aunt Sissy’s house was smaller, more like Honey’s Bird’s Nest. It had a great view of the lagoon. Lovie came running out. She was her regular energetic self.
“Where are we going, guys?”
“The Nature Center,” Macon and I both answered at the same time. Then laughed.
I drove us down the wide cart path, careful not to hit the big ruts. I told them about the cannonball story. When I parked the cart, we all tumbled out and hurried inside to find it.
Sure enough, we found the cannonball in a display case. It was in a dark corner, closer to the floor. No wonder we’d missed it. A small yellowed card noted the finders—Eric Potter and Rand Piper—and that the cannonball was found in 1985.
“Maybe we can find a cannonball,” said Macon.
“Let’s try,” I agreed, wanting to find one just like my dad did.
“Cool fact,” said Macon. “Did you know the first cannon was in China? And that they also invented gunpowder?”
I raised my brows. I didn’t know that. “We have to get out and start exploring. What do you say?”
“Y’all, I’ve got an idea. Follow me!” Lovie said, and darted out the door, right down the stairs.
We ran after her and down the main dirt path.
“Why are we running?” I yelled out. “Let’s take the cart.”
“No! Keep up!” she yelled back.
“I don’t think she knows how to walk anywhere,” muttered Macon.
Macon and I raced to catch up. Lovie glanced over her shoulder, taunting us, and ran even faster. Her long braid bounced against her back. Macon and I picked up our speed too, zooming right past the crabbing dock where a man and a woman were scurrying around with nets.
Just beyond the dock, the dark blue water teemed with noisy birds of all sorts. We came to another section of the lagoon. There, on a wide, flat dock floating on the water’s surface, were several kayaks, life jackets, and paddles. Macon and I were bent over, trying to catch our breath from the run.
We must’ve had a confused look on our faces, because Lovie called out, “What are you guys waiting for? You said you wanted to explore, didn’t you?”
“Yeah…,” I replied, straightening.
“Then grab a life jacket. We’re going kayaking!” Lovie was already putting on an orange-and-yellow life jacket.
“We can’t just take a kayak. They don’t belong to us.”
“It’s okay. They’re here for us to borrow.”
“I don’t know. I haven’t been in a kayak since I was six,” I admitted. “And I didn’t even do the paddling.”
“It’s easy! I’ll teach you.” Lovie grabbed a paddle and walked to the edge of the dock. She took hold of the orange kayak.
“First, you have to straddle the kayak on either side, like this,” she said, demonstrating. “Then you plop your butt in.”
Lovie slipped right into the seat of the kayak. “The secret is to find your center and sit fast. And don’t lean too far to either side.”
It looked easy enough. I slipped into my life jacket, eager to try. I put my paddle on the edge of the dock and pushed a yellow kayak into the water, careful to do exactly as Lovie had. I was proud of myself when my butt hit the inside of the kayak.
“Good job! Now your turn,” she called to Macon.
“No way!” Macon shouted. “I’ve never kayaked before and I’m not going to start now.”
“Oh, come on, party pooper. Aren’t you a Boy Scout?” Lovie called back.
Macon tensed up like a mad cat in a corner, ready for a fight. “Well, this Boy Scout prefers keeping his feet on dry land. I’ve seen all the dark alligator heads and the lumpy ridges of their backs at the water’s surface. I’m not gonna be gator food. Y’all ridiculous people go right on ahead.”
His words made me feel a little less brave. I quietly scanned the lagoon… just in case.
“Oh, come on! Look at Jake. He barely knows what he’s doing and he’s trying.”
“Hey, thanks a lot,” I kidded.
“It’ll be so much fun. Pleeeeease…,” Lovie begged.
Macon crossed his arms. “Fact: Drowning is the fifth leading cause of unintentional death. You think I’m crazy enough to get in that wobbly excuse for a boat? Nope. Nada. Not happening.”
Lovie rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. You won’t drown if you’re wearing one of these.” She pointed both index fingers to her life jacket.
“The facts still stand. One in every five drownings is a kid fourteen or younger. That’s my demographic. And that life jacket won’t save any of you from a hungry gator.”
“Would you stop bringing up the alligators please,” I said.
“They’re not going to eat us in the kayak. Come on, Macon,” Lovie shouted out. “We’ll be explorers!”
“I’ll tell you what,” he called back. “You guys paddle to my boat dock. I’ll track you on the land. And we’ll see who gets to my dock first.”
“Sounds good to me,” I said. “We can be Lewis and Clark.”
“And I’ll be Sacagawea,” Lovie said.
“Who’s that?” I asked.
Lovie’s eyes flashed in annoyance. “If you know who Lewis and Clark were, then you should know her, too. Sacagawea was a Native American woman who helped Lewis and Clark in their expedition. She knew about the wilderness and animals and plants. In fact, they probably wouldn’t have made it without her.”
“Okay then,” I said. “You’re Sacagawea.”
Lovie smiled, pleased. “High tide’s coming in. Let’s go!” She pushed off from the dock with the tip of her paddle.
I scrambled to do the same, rocking my kayak.
“I’m off too!” Macon said, and took off running.
* * *
Lovie was a good teacher. She was patient as she showed me how to power forward and backward with my paddle. It had a blade on each end, shaped like a bird feather. I took one stroke. Then another. And another. Soon enough I caught the rhythm and was gliding alongside Lovie. It wasn’t as wobbly in the kayak as I thought it’d be.
It was just the two of us. Lovie and I stayed in the narrow creeks, close to shore, so I wasn’t worried about falling into the water.
Out on the water, the island world appeared so different. Thick, gooey mud lined the creek banks, and all over them, I could see tiny crabs. They all had one larger claw that they lifted into the air. When they climbed out of the mud, they made soft popping noises that I could hear up close. But when my shadow approached, they scurried away, ducking into their little muddy holes.
“What are those crabs in the mud with the one Hulk-like claw?” I called out to Lovie.
Lovie giggled. The sound of her high laugh made me smile. “Fiddler crabs,” she called back from her kayak. “There are a gazillion of them in the pluff mud.”
“What’s pluff mud?”
“You’re kidding. You don’t know what pluff mud is?”
“Why do you think I asked?”
“It’s that gooey mud that’s all around you.”
I crinkled my nose. “It stinks.”
She laughed again. “You get used to it. My mama calls it ‘the Lowcountry perfume.’ ”
The sun was bright overhead and sparkled on the water. As we made our way along the creek, I did feel like an explorer. There was something to discover at every turn. When our kayaks took the next bend in the creek, a lone white egret burst into the sky with its black legs dangling behind. Small silver fish jumped out of the water ahead of us. A big fish with one black spot on its tail skimmed right next to my kayak, so close I could have caught it with my bare hands.
I ran my fingers across the top of the cool, smooth water. But I kept my eyes peeled for signs of alligators. Sharks too.
Macon whistled at us from the shore, the two-fingers-in-the-mouth kind of way, which made it extra loud. I raised my paddle up in the air to signal back.
“Hey, Lewis!” I called out.
“Hey, Clar
k!” He waved and then dashed back into the shadows of the towering trees.
“I can’t wait to draw all these things in my journal,” I called out.
Lovie stopped paddling to get close to me so we wouldn’t have to shout. We floated slowly down the creek, the dark water lapping the edges of the kayaks.
“You’re becoming a real naturalist, Jake,” she said. “Complete with a journal. I started mine. I’m enjoying writing about my day. It’s like a diary.”
“I’m not so good writing about my day,” I confessed. “I mostly draw pictures. But… I started writing to my dad instead. Letters. Most every day. I can tell him everything—what I saw and how I’m feeling. It’s like, when I’m writing to him, I feel like he’s with me.” I shook my head, feeling a little embarrassed. “Sounds weird, I guess.”
“No, it doesn’t,” she said to me.
I looked over to see if she was serious. Her eyes were soft with concern.
“It makes sense.” She smiled, kind of shyly. “At least to me.”
Before I knew it, I was spilling the beans about all my worries about my dad and his lost leg. Beneath the warm sun, tucked in this watery maze, it felt like the power of the tide pulled it all right out of me.
Lovie grew very quiet. I suddenly realized I’d been doing all the talking.
“Sorry,” I said awkwardly. “I’m talking a lot. I’m boring you.”
“No,” Lovie answered quickly. She shook her head. “It’s just…” She looked away.
“Just what?”
“While I was listening to you talk about your dad and mailing letters to him, I was thinking about my own father and thought… well… maybe I should write a letter to him.”
“But doesn’t he, like, live with you?”
She stopped paddling. I stopped too, and the world fell quiet. Our kayaks floated on the surface of the water, side by side.
“I’m going to tell you something, and you have to promise to keep it secret.”
“Okay. I promise.”
“My daddy, Ethan”—she paused—“he’s not my actual dad.”
That didn’t seem like such a big secret. “Are your parents divorced?”
She shook her head. “No. They were never married. Ethan is the only father I’ve ever known. He’s my real dad. But my biological father, Darryl…” She looked away, then blurted out, “He’s in prison.”
My mouth slipped open. Prison? I had never known anyone who went to prison.
Lovie shrugged, seeing my expression. “Yeah, that’s how everyone acts when they find out, so I don’t like to tell people.”
“What did he do to go to prison for?”
“Stealing. He’s not a thief. I mean, he stole,” she tried to explain. “Darryl’s a musician, but I don’t think he made much money. So, he stole stuff to keep going.” She rolled her eyes. “A lot. Mama said the law finally caught up with him.”
“I’m sorry, Lovie.”
Lovie looked out at the water. “Nothing to be sorry about. But it’s not the kind of thing I’m proud of.”
“Do you ever see him?”
She shook her head. “He sent me a couple of letters, but my mama made him stop. She doesn’t want anything to do with him. I love my real dad. He adopted me and all. But sometimes, I can’t help but wonder about Darryl. I’m curious, you know? Especially when I hear you talk about your dad. Him being so far away, I mean.”
“Why don’t you write him a letter?” The answer seemed easy to me.
“I don’t know,” Lovie said with a frown of worry. “What would I even say?”
“How about you ask him how he is? And the things you’re curious to know.”
She shook her head again. “Oh boy. Mama would flip her lid if I did that. She doesn’t like me to even mention his name.”
“I felt better when I started mailing my letters to my dad. I haven’t heard back from him. But still, it makes me feel”—I shrugged—“like he’s not so far away.”
Lovie picked up her paddle. “Let’s stop talking about this,” she said in that way she had when she was annoyed. “I just wanted you to know why I was acting weird when you were talking about your daddy.” She pointed at me and narrowed her eyes. “And promise you won’t tell anyone. Not ever!”
I didn’t know why she got mad all of a sudden, but I wanted her to feel better. “I promise.”
I felt bad, though. I’d been spending all my summer thinking about my father, and not once did I think to ask about her own family. Or even Macon’s mom.
“Come on, let’s go,” she said, digging one end of her paddle into the water to get the kayak moving faster. “Macon’s probably already at the dock.”
Lovie started paddling. Hard and fast. That was the Lovie I knew. By the time I got my rhythm back, my arms were burning and she’d already disappeared around the next bend.
CHAPTER 12
The Abandoned Boat
Nature is full of surprises.
“JAKE! JAKE! HURRY!”
My heart pounded in my ears. Is Lovie in trouble? I dug my paddle blades into the water harder and faster than before. Sweat beaded on my brow and my tired muscles burned, but I didn’t stop.
At last I rounded the bend. I stopped paddling and stared, panting. I swiped the sweat from my brow. Ahead was a filthy-looking small white boat. And standing on this vessel was Lovie.
“Look what I found!” she yelled, waving me near. She was almost jumping up and down.
I paddled closer and saw that she was standing on a flat-bottomed boat with low sides. It was covered from stem to stern in rust and mud and crusty splatters of bird poo. It was a mess. But I could tell Lovie thought it was great.
“Climb aboard, mate,” she said.
“We can’t just climb onto someone’s boat.”
She laughed, her eyes bright with discovery. “It’s abandoned. Don’t you get it? Finders keepers. Jake, this is now our boat!”
What? I brightened and a grin spread across my face. At last, I had a boat!
I had fresh energy as I paddled closer to the edge of the boat. My thrill at owning a boat dimmed when I saw its condition. Up close, it looked even worse. “Are you sure this thing will hold us? It looks ready to sink.”
Lovie gave a mischievous smile. “We’ll find out soon enough. Now, come on, don’t be scared. What’s the worst that can happen?”
“It’ll sink and we’d get wet,” I called back. Then added sourly, “And I’m not scared.”
I gripped the rim of the boat. The pluff mud stank and it made the boat’s rim slippery. I pulled myself up, careful not to flip out of the kayak. The bottom of my pants was covered with slime, and the bottom of the small boat had a film of mud that covered my shoes. I almost slipped.
“Careful!” Lovie called out. Then muttered with a tease, “Landlubber.”
My cheeks flamed as we pulled our kayaks and paddles onto the boat. That left very little room for us.
Lovie went to stand near the motor.
I squeezed in beside her. “What kind of a boat is it?” I smirked. “Besides funny-looking.”
“It’s a flat-bottomed skiff. Perfect for these shallow creeks. It’s not supposed to get stuck in the mud.”
“Who would just leave a boat in the creek?”
“Lots of people do. My mama said that people can’t afford to tow them when they get stuck or fix them, so they just leave them.” Lovie ran her hand across a layer of muck. “Gross!” She immediately wiped her hands on her blue jean shorts, now streaked with brown. “This hunk of junk has been out here awhile. I’ve seen this kind of thing a few times before when I’ve been puttering around on my boat.”
“Well, if this boat is abandoned, it probably doesn’t work anyway.” I pulled my backpack off and got out my thermos and two snack bags of chips. “Let’s take a break.” I poured her a cup of water. She took it gratefully.
“Thanks.” Lovie chugged her water.
I chewed my chips while checking ou
t the boat. “Is it hard learning to drive a boat?”
“There’s a lot to learn. You have to study. But it’s fun kind of learning.” Lovie handed me back the thermos and accepted some chips.
I took a long swallow of water, looking out at the acres of waving grass.
“A guy could get lost out here.”
“Sure. Some do. But there are a lot of signs and markers you’ll learn too,” Lovie said. “And of course, rules and safety tips. Like what HELP stands for.” She cocked her head. “Do you know that one?”
“I didn’t know it stood for anything but…” I pretended I was falling out of the boat. “Heeeeellllllp me!”
She laughed. “Close. In boating, HELP means Heat Escape Lessening Posture. It’s what you do if you fall overboard and must wait for rescue. Like this,” she said, and pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. “See? When you’re balled up like this, it keeps you warm.”
“Okay.”
“Yeah,” she said, straightening. “You learn some important stuff in the course. Some of it will save your life. Then you have to take a test. If you pass, ta-da!” She spread out her hands. “You’re certified. You can drive a boat.”
I couldn’t wait, but tried to sound cocky. “Sounds easy enough.” I crumpled up my chip bag and looked for somewhere to toss it.
Lovie pointed to my backpack. “What you bring to the river, you carry back.”
“I was looking for the trash,” I said defensively.
“Your backpack,” she said, pointing again.
I put the paper bag into my backpack to carry home. Then took a final swig of water from my thermos and put that back in too. I zipped up the backpack; snack time was over.
“I want to get my license before summer’s end,” I told her. “Will you help me?”
“Absolutely.” Lovie gave me one of her firm handshakes. “We can start now.” She wiped her hands on her shorts and turned her attention to the boat’s motor. “Let’s see if I can get this baby to turn on.”
“You think you can do that?” I asked in awe.
She gave me a smug smile. “I can try.”
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