Prisoners of Hope

by Barbara Fradkin

  “Why four days? I thought you said we needed three.”

  “Always plan for a wind day. If we get stuck on the outer islands, you’ll be glad of the extra day’s food.”

  Amanda’s phone buzzed. A text from Chris. Finally got the time off. Flight to Toronto crack of dawn tomorrow! Can you wait for me?

  She felt a rush of mixed feelings, thrilled that she’d soon see him but frustrated that it might delay them another day.

  “We can’t wait for him,” Ronny said when she told him. “We’ll stick to the original plan and camp on Franklin Island. We’ll send him the coordinates and he can meet us there tomorrow.”

  “But —”

  “It’s not far, and it’s all pretty sheltered paddling. I can’t just fart around here for a day. I got a fishing group later in the week.”

  So they set off down the broad inlet, paddling directly west toward a red-and-white lighthouse at the entrance to the harbour. Kaylee sat between Amanda’s legs and peered out over the top of the cockpit, excited by the waves lapping the bow, the gulls wheeling overhead, and the shoreline slipping by. She snapped at the waves, and Amanda had to remind her frequently to stay still. Hordes of blackflies swirled around them, luckily kept at bay by Deep Woods Off.

  “Please tell me the bugs aren’t like this in July,” she said as she spat out a blackfly.

  “They aren’t.” Ronny laughed. “The blackflies will be gone in a week or two. And out on the islands the wind keeps them down. You’ll see.”

  Up ahead the sun blazed a swath of gold across the water, silhouetting the lighthouse against the open bay beyond. When the inlet widened, the breeze picked up, slowing their progress as they ploughed against it, but true to Ronny’s word, it chased away the mosquitoes and blackflies.

  Ronny turned right before the lighthouse and led them into a narrow, protected channel behind an island. The sun beat down and they swished through the water. Paddling abreast of her, he kept up a running chatter about the surroundings and his choice of route.

  “It’s usually calm in here,” he said. “No wind and waves to fight against, and motorboats have to slow to a crawl. This will be a perfect time for your group to practice their skills, learn to stop and turn and lean from one side to the other. By the time we reach the end, they’ll be ready to cross the open channel to Franklin Island.”

  The four leaders would be in single kayaks, whereas each mother would share a tandem kayak with her child. That way if a child became tired, the group could still continue.

  “Do you know rolls and rescue techniques?” Ronny asked as they approached a deep, narrow channel carved between steep rock faces.

  Amanda had learned emergency manoeuvres in calm water, but she knew that wasn’t where they’d be needed. Heaven help them if a tandem kayak capsized.

  “We’d better not get into a situation where they’re necessary, Ronny,” she replied. “At the first hint of rough water, we’ll go ashore.”

  “That’s always the plan,” he said. “But the bay can surprise you. I need to know what you can do.”

  The next turn proved his point. The wind hit her full force as the channel opened up to reveal an expanse of white-capped chop. Across the channel lay a low-slung stretch of land. “We have to get across this, for example,” he said, digging in his paddle. “That’s Franklin Island up ahead.”

  The sun was still warm, but the wind churned the water into frothy waves. Her kayak began to rock as the waves slapped the hull, and Kaylee’s ears flattened in alarm.

  “Luckily, it doesn’t look very far,” she shouted, steadying her boat into the waves.

  “It’s not, and on a good day, it’ll be no problem. We’ll time the crossing for the morning, when the wind is down. And this spot” — he pointed to the rugged granite point — “will be a perfect place for a midmorning break. But today we’ll head due west across the channel and then hug the shore around the southern tip. There’s this fantastic campsite I want to show you.”

  They paddled in silence, sticking close together and keeping their bows pointed into the wind. Once she found the right rudder setting, Amanda’s boat sliced effortlessly through the water, and she let her thoughts roam. In these rare times, she felt almost healed, able to stay in the beauty of the moment without being dogged by a formless sense of dread. She was in Canada, enjoying a blissful sunny afternoon out on the water, far from the smoke and seared flesh, the screams and guttural shouts, the dark, racing shadows backlit by orange flame.

  And all the children, gone.

  Unbidden, the memories crowded in of her frantic search through the compound, of the burned-out bunks and empty huts. Of her friends and colleagues running headlong into the night, lungs seared and eyes streaming from smoke and tears.

  She stopped paddling and shut her eyes. Don’t fight it, she told herself. She let the waves buffet her as she rode out the surge of fear and rage. With deep breaths, she took stock of herself. Of each sensation and thought. Sometimes she remembered certain details, sometimes others, and sometimes nothing but the dark dread. But here, she told herself, on this serene Georgian Bay afternoon, with the waves slapping and Kaylee’s head in her lap, it was all half a world away.

  Ronny’s shout pulled her out of her reverie. She’d blown backward while he had forged quite a distance ahead. He was frowning as he swung around. “I want us to stick together,” he shouted. “Always. At least on an open crossing like this.”

  Amanda dug in her paddle and felt the kayak leap forward to close the gap. She felt a surge of elation, not only at her speed and power but also at her triumph. She had ridden out the fear. Not beaten it back or outrun it, but gone with it and let it run its course. A success.

  This time.

  They reached Franklin Island and meandered around its rocky points and grassy inlets, enjoying the afternoon sun. A few powerboats roared by farther out in the channel, but for the most part they had the idyllic waters to themselves. Lush green shrubs and grasses dipped into the water’s edge. They surprised a great blue heron fishing in the reeds and a row of turtles basking on a log in the sun. The water was clear enough to see the multicoloured pebbles on the bottom and the small fish darting away. Amanda smiled. The children were going to love this.

  The wind hit them again when they left the lee of the island to paddle around the tip to the western side. The land grew more rugged and the pines clung to the crevices, bent and sparse. Up ahead she saw a broad expanse of flat rock, its multicoloured swirls burnished gold and pink in the sinking sun. Sunlight winked off the whitecaps, and they had to fight to keep the kayaks from blowing onto the rocks. Her arms ached from the effort, and she was grateful when Ronny finally aimed for a small inlet and slipped his kayak aground.

  “Perfect place for our camp,” he said as he clambered out. “Big enough for half a dozen tents, nice flat terrain, awesome sunsets, no bugs, and” — he pointed triumphantly to a sign nailed to a tree — “a thunderbox! All the comforts of home.”

  Amanda laughed as she tucked her own kayak in beside his. When Kaylee leaped up, thrilled to be free, Ronny grabbed her collar.

  “One thing I forgot to warn you about. There are a few rattlesnakes around here. They’re very shy and they won’t attack, but they’ll defend themselves against an aggressive dog. Best keep her on a leash.”

  Amanda felt a prickle of fear. From her years overseas she was no stranger to poisonous snakes but had forgotten that Eastern Canada had one poisonous snake, small and rarely fatal to humans but potentially so to small pets and children. Ronny found a photo of the snake on his phone and showed her the fat, blotchy brown specimen.

  “They’ll make themselves scarce now that we’re here, so we’ll be fine at the campsite, but when we do our hikes, wear shoes and watch your step.”

  Amanda hugged Kaylee close. The inquisitive little dog would certainly get the wrong end of that encounter. “What else should we be on the lookout for?”

  “Bears. They’re good
swimmers and hop from island to island looking for food. They’ll have their cubs with them, and they like to check out campsites at night.” He pointed to a rope-and-pulley system strung between two trees. “This site is well set up to hang our food. Another reason I like it.”

  The huge orange sun hung just over the open water to the west, lighting the surface in rippling gold and pink. They set up camp quickly and sat on logs enjoying their dinner while nature put on a glorious scarlet show.

  Afterward, as the western sky and water shimmered in lilac and rose, Ronny fished a harmonica out of his pack and blew a quick, jaunty riff. He grinned.

  “I can’t fit my guitar into my kayak, but this does the trick. Whaddaya think? It’ll be great for campfire singalongs with the kids.” He shut his eyes and played a rollicking blues tune, tapping his bare toes on the rock. Amanda found herself tapping in concert.

  “You’re good.”

  “I used to play in a band in high school before most of the guys moved away. We had some good times.”

  Amanda had a memory flash of Chris bent over his guitar, playing Ukrainian folk songs at a village kitchen party in Newfoundland. Another man full of surprises.

  Later that night, as she lay in her tent listening to the echoing calls of whippoorwills, images of Chris roamed through her mind. His crinkly blue eyes, his ski-jump nose, his long, gangly limbs that seemed to have a mind of their own … every inch of him adorable. Kissable. She sighed and wrapped her arms around Kaylee. She was finally drifting off to sleep when the soft music of a cellphone woke her. Not hers, Ronny’s. She heard his muffled voice, murmuring, reassuring, concerned. Almost tender. “Don’t worry, I’ll be there.”

  A girlfriend, probably. At midnight, who else?

  CHAPTER THREE

  The morning dawned calm and clear. Tendrils of mist lifted off the glassy lake and drifted slowly inland. As they sipped their morning coffee, Ronny studied the open water through binoculars.

  “You heard from Chris yet?”

  She shook her head. “He’s probably in the air.”

  “What time does he land in Toronto?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but I assume late morning.”

  “And then he’s got to drive up here.” He jiggled his leg restlessly. “We got the whole day then. What are you up for?”

  Amanda looked at the woods behind them. “Maybe we could check out some of the inland hikes on this island. That would be a good break for the kids on one of our days.”

  Ronny glanced at his phone. “The bugs would be brutal. The weather is so calm, I think we should make a run for the Mink Islands instead.” He pointed to a string of dots barely visible on the horizon.

  She breathed in the crisp air. The scene was so peaceful that she never wanted to move. When she made a face, he grinned. “You should at least check out the paddle so you know if it’s too hard for the group or not. The Minks are a chain of small islands, some of them bare rock and others big enough to explore and camp on. Lots of birds and other small critters, awesome sunsets, plus shipwrecks and a lighthouse.”

  Amanda eyed the open water doubtfully. “How far is it?”

  “It’s about five or six kilometres across, depending which route we choose. If we leave now, we’ll have the whole day to check it out and figure out whether it’s worth seeing.”

  “But what about Chris? He’s supposed to meet us here on Franklin Island this evening.”

  “We’ll be back before supper.”

  “Is there cellphone reception out there?”

  He hesitated. “Some. But don’t worry, we’ll be back.”

  She glanced around at the polished rock and inviting paths. “I don’t think I want to subject these families to five or six kilometres of open-water paddling. There are plenty of interesting things to explore on this island alone.”

  Ronny was already packing his kayak. A frown flitted across his face, quickly replaced by his easy, gap-toothed grin. “Sure, but it would be fun. Even for us. You’ll love it.”

  She wavered. The Georgian Getaway trip was planned for six days, which gave them plenty of time to play with. It might be worth it to know all the options. “Did you check the morning’s forecast?”

  Ronny didn’t look up from his packing. “It’s all good.”

  Barely half an hour later, their gear was fully packed, including their tents.

  “Why so much gear?” she asked as she watched him stuff one last huge dry sack into his hatch.

  “In case we have to stay over,” he said nonchalantly. “Like I said, always be prepared.”

  As before, they packed their emergency gear close at hand. Kaylee had decided she didn’t like the constraints of the cockpit and opted to lie on the front deck instead. She didn’t like her life jacket either.

  “That’s not negotiable, princess,” Amanda said as she strapped it on. In the early morning, the water was still peaceful. Only a slight breeze ruffled the surface, and far out over the Mink Islands a few fluffy clouds hung over the horizon. Kaylee was a strong swimmer, but if bad weather sprang up, five kilo­metres in rough water would be too much for any dog.

  The crossing took a little over an hour, and soon they were cruising between slabs of pink and grey rock. Cottages peeked out between the pines on the larger islands as Ronny led them farther north, but the smaller islands were empty. He wove through the shoals with an expert hand, passing by several inviting rest spots that Amanda eyed longingly. Kaylee too was alert and poised to leap off the deck to explore. Only Amanda’s firm warnings kept her in place.

  Ronny finally guided his kayak ashore in a sheltered inlet of an island near the centre of the chain, large enough to have grasses, stubby trees, and a bulbous hill in the middle. The rock formations at the water’s edge were fascinating. Multicoloured stripes of rock, polished smooth by the centuries, formed undulating patterns and swirled into circular holes. Wildflowers grew in the crevices.

  They spread their towels on the flat granite shore. Kaylee found a stick to be tossed and leaped gleefully into the water again and again, her eyes shining, her tongue lolling, and her paws dancing with anticipation. The sun was hot, the rocks baking, and the water looked so inviting that Amanda peeled off her outer clothes, waded out onto a flat slab of rock, and plunged in, expecting silky bliss.

  The cold froze her breath in her lungs. After a moment of gasping and flailing, she scrambled back onto shore.

  Ronny was laughing. “Kinda takes your breath away, don’t it? It’s still early in the season. The Great Lakes take a while to warm up.”

  “No kidding!” Amanda sputtered, snatching up her towel. “Another reason not to risk a capsize in the middle of the lake.”

  As they unpacked their lunch, the breeze picked up, and more white fluffy clouds piled up in the west. Amanda frowned. “What’s the weather forecast for the afternoon?”

  Ronny shrugged. “I didn’t check this morning, but yesterday it said clear. No small craft warnings.”

  She gaped. “You didn’t check?”

  “No worries. I been paddling these waters since I was two. The wind will be behind us going back.”

  “Still tricky, especially with Kaylee on the front. Do you think we should head back now?”

  “We haven’t had lunch yet, and there’s a great hike I want to show you to the top of that hill. Awesome view.” He pointed to the outcrop covered in spiky pines. The granite knob at the top was polished clean by glaciers and storms.

  Amanda could see little danger in the playful clouds and teasing breeze, but she was no expert on Georgian Bay. Ronny had spent his youth out on these waters, and he was already opening a beer. He held another out for her and gave her his biggest gap-toothed grin.

  “What’s the worst? We wait till evening.”

  She thought of Chris, who should be touching down in Toronto at this very moment. But it would take him a few more hours to get to the campsite on Franklin Island. Go with the flow, Doucette, she told herself as she t
ook the beer.

  By the end of lunch, the playful breeze had become a strong wind, and waves were lunging at the rocks. Gulls wheeled in the azure sky overhead, eager for fish.

  In the sheltered cove, the sun baked the granite shore. Ronny stripped off his shirt and stood in his ragged jeans, showing off his tanned, rippling chest. Tattoos of musical notes curled around his biceps and one of a stylized guitar peeked above his waistband. “Fantastic. I love the water when it gets sassy.”

  “But …” Amanda began uneasily.

  “It’s nothing but convection winds. They always increase on a warm afternoon. We’ll wait it out and paddle back at sunset.” He stretched, catlike, and checked the time. “I’m going to take a short paddle over to another island. I promised I’d check out the winter damage on my buddy’s cabin. Fifteen minutes tops. Just chill out here, and when I’m back, we’ll take that hike.”

  The wind snatched at his words, and the sibilant roar of the waves blurred all sound, but a faint shriek drifted in on a gust of wind. Kaylee’s ears pricked up as she stared out across the water. Another plaintive cry. Gulls? Amanda’s gaze tracked Kaylee’s, but she could see nothing but bobbing waves and flashes of white caps.

  “Where are the binoculars?” she asked.

  Ronny handed them over, and she trained them on the waves, twirling the focus and sweeping back and forth. Another cry, and in the water, a flash of red, riding on the crest of a wave before dropping back out of sight. She sucked in her breath as she waited for the next wave. Lifting it up.

  The bow of a boat.

  “There’s someone out there!”

  Ronny grabbed the binoculars. He took only a brief glance before he began to drag his kayak down to the water’s edge.

  “I’m coming too,” Amanda said. “We don’t know how many are in the boat, and my kayak is bigger.”

  Ronny frowned, as if sizing up whether she’d be more of a liability than a help, before nodding curtly. Together they clipped ropes and paddle floats to the kayaks, stuffed some emergency flares into their life jackets, and tied an outraged Kaylee to a tree. Within a minute both kayaks were on the water.