Natural Instincts by M. Raiya Read Free Book Online

upright.
    Now I just needed to figure out how to make it go where I wanted it to. Cautiously I picked up my paddle, held my breath, and dipped it in the water. My first stroke was tremulous and ineffective, but the kids on shore cheered. I wobbled a bit as I swung the paddle forward above the water. I resisted the urge to grab the gunwales again. I took another stroke. I’d read about all the different kinds, like J-strokes and sweep strokes and cross bow draws, but straight front to back was all I could cope with. The author of the article I’d read had included little diagrams, but clearly he hadn’t factored in fear.
    My craft moved forward ever so slightly.
    “That’s it!” the boy cried.
    But the canoe was also turning to the left. Physics, I thought. Paddling on the right caused a turn to the left.
    “Now on the other side!” the girl called.
    Feeling like I was risking everything, I moved the blade to the other side, having to switch hand positions as I did so. I made two cautious strokes, and the canoe continued forward smoothly, now turning to the right. I switched back.
    “You got it!” the boy called.
    Very daringly, I glanced over my shoulder. They waved like I’d just won a gold medal in canoeing. On shore, their moms were still talking, completely unaware that I’d just taken my life in hand and changed course.
    Such moments often happen unnoticed , I thought.
    I waved at the kids. Then, falteringly, I headed for the island.
     
     
    I MADE it in about fifteen minutes. An experienced paddler probably could have done it in five. My arms ached and my knees throbbed, but I was there. The afternoon was still foggy, though warm, and the diffuse lighting made the shoreline soft and indistinct, as though it had been painted with watercolors. Even the sounds from land came muffled to my ears. The ever-present robin’s song sounded far away. There were no other boats on the lake.
    Carefully I made my way around the end of the island, not getting too close in case I hit a rock or a submerged log. The island’s shoreline was different from the mainland’s; it was mostly grassy, with reeds and cattails growing out into the water. The water moved through them with a gentle hissing noise, different from the gurgles along the rocky shore that I was used to, but everything had the same clean, fresh, watery odor. It was all so still that only the tips of the limbs of the pine trees swayed in the breeze, so faint that the surface of the lake looked like glass. Everything felt absolutely magical.
    I rounded the far tip of the island. I’d hoped the loon would be there to meet me, but all I could see were empty water and more reeds. Damn. A strange, hollow feeling opened inside me—a sense of loss over something I hadn’t really known I’d had, or wanted, until very recently. I took one hand off my paddle and rubbed my eyes. Life was strange. Things I didn’t want found me easily. Things I wanted, I hardly understood.
    I paddled on as quietly as I could. The way to implement the diagrams of the J-stroke finally started to make sense. If I held the paddle in the water behind me for just a second after I finished my stroke, and made a little hook-like wiggle with it before I pulled it out, the canoe kept going straight instead of turning. That was much easier than switching my paddle from side to side. I felt just a tad bit proud that I’d mastered something, for once, that didn’t have anything to do with computers or numbers or money. Just a boat and a paddle and the water. Yes.
    But my new talent didn’t help the ache inside me. With a sigh, I wiped my eyes.
    I almost didn’t see the loon as I practiced my steering to maneuver out around a log that protruded into the water, a pine that had fallen years ago. He had been floating in the sheltered area between the log and the land; until he moved, he’d blended in perfectly with the dark trunk. I could see a little path beyond him up onto the island, where he