Juliet Was a Surprise Read Online Free Page B

they had taken on. He began to feel immensely proud,even to the point of taking deep, ecstatic breaths, which he noticed in time and recalled from the past and stopped. But not soon enough.
    â€œKnow what?” Eden said softly. “I think I’d like to go back.”
    He was careful not to change his paddle stroke. Adam didn’t speak.
    â€œI’m maybe feeling a little seasick, you know?” she added.
    â€œWant us to turn around?” asked Adam, gently.
    â€œI dunno. What do you think, honey?” She did a good job sounding vulnerable.
    â€œCaptain?” said Adam, rather too loud. “What say we head back. We can do this thing another time, maybe.”
    â€œNo,” he said. “I really want to go in … there.” He lifted his paddle to point in the direction they were headed, a dark gap in the bank of reeds. He’d been watching it for some time. Yesterday he’d seen two canoes emerge from it. It was a stream or inlet.
    â€œThat’s the channel I heard about,” said Adam. He cupped a hand over his eyes, gazing like a sailor. “It goes to a second lake. Little Pinanten.”
    He wasn’t sure if he liked that Adam knew about it, but he kept paddling. It wasn’t far. He could see that the channel was no more than eight or ten feet wide. Now Eden was acting angry with Adam, who in turn acted excited about their new adventure, marvelling at how narrow the channel was, and how tropical looking, and then blurting, “African Queen!” Which might have been a mistake on his part, joining her earlier comment about Egypt and revealing the choreography in too broad a hint.
    And only now, watching Eden kneeling no more than two feet in front of him, did he consider what he’d been taking in all along. Her hands resting on her thighs, her spine straight— this posture would be called “pert,” except for the strategic, languid rolling of her shoulders in rhythm to their paddling. It was adept and perfect in its subtlety. Of course she knew he watched her. Her communication couldn’t be more direct. Her bare skin, luscious tan. From her bum crack, peaking above her bikini bottoms, a tattooed blue hand waved at him. He could smell her, a confusing mix of scents. Appropriately, comically, a tackle box full of lures lay not an inch from her bum. They would know, probably to the month and day, how long he’d been without sex.
    He saw how easily she could overwhelm him if he paid her any more attention at all. He raised his gaze. He wriggled his ankles to locate the many pains of the matchsticks.
    He was almost certain now that they weren’t on his side. And he sensed that whatever happened, good or bad, it would happen in Little Pinanten Lake.
    About fifty yards from the mouth of the channel he began a careful, curving aim toward it. He had gotten good at steering. Everything was coming together smoothly. Even the several boats in the area, soundlessly propelled by their tiny electric motors, had been elegantly dispersing.
    â€œIt really might be fun,” said Adam, pausing in his paddling to regard the approaching mouth, “to see where this goes.”
    Eden offered a sarcastic “Mmhmm.”
    Their acting was so obvious it was insulting. From behindher he snorted loudly, and waited. When neither said anything to this, he asked, “When will you reveal yourselves?”
    Adam stopped paddling again and turned painfully around to look at him, peering over his sunglasses. The canoe wobbled with this awkwardness.
    In a tone that was almost convincing, Eden whispered shakily, “Martin? I’m a little scared …”
    It wasn’t the use of “Adam’s” real name that made him act, it was the sudden appearance of the duckling, which surfaced not far to the right of the canoe, instantly followed by a full-grown loon, which surfaced perhaps five feet away from it, quickly closed the distance and