Dreamland(33)

“If you have suits, you might want to leave your clothes in the truck,” he suggested as he put the money in the register. “Unless you don’t mind being wet when you drive back to wherever you’re going.”

Back at the truck, I did my best not to stare as Morgan stripped to her bikini. I set her clothes and mine on the front seat and grabbed my sunglasses and a baseball hat out of the glove compartment. I watched as Morgan placed her phone into a waterproof case, something I hadn’t even thought to bring.

“Do you need sunscreen?” she asked, reminding me of something else I’d forgotten. “I brought some if you didn’t.”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

She squeezed the tube, dispensing lotion into my hand, which I smeared all over my arms and face.

“Do you want me to get your back?” she asked.

I wasn’t about to say no—I liked the thought of her hands on me—so I nodded, and soon enough I felt the lotion being spread on my skin, a sensation more intimate than she probably assumed it was. “Do you need me to get your back, too?” I asked.

“I had Maria do it earlier, but thanks.”

When we were done, we put on the life jackets and carried the paddles toward the kayaks, which were already at the water’s edge. The attendant gave us a quick lesson about how to hold the paddles, the importance of long, smooth strokes, and how to paddle backward to help change direction. Finally, he issued directions to a channel that led through the mangroves.

“Will we capsize?” Morgan fretted as she stared out at the water.

“These kayaks are pretty wide, so I wouldn’t worry,” the man said. “Hop in and I’ll give you a shove.”

We each climbed into our own kayak, feeling it bobble slightly. At the man’s instruction, I bent my knees slightly and watched Morgan glide backward toward me after her kayak was launched. We turned and started paddling over the glassy water.

“It hardly wobbles at all,” Morgan announced, sounding surprised.

“That’s because you weigh fifty pounds.”

“I weigh a lot more than that.”

“How much more?”

“I’m definitely not going to answer that question.”

I chuckled, both of us settling in to enjoy the scenery. There were puffy clouds in the distance, but the sky was electric blue overhead, turning the water into a brilliant mirror. In the foliage we saw terns and ospreys, while turtles sunned themselves on partially submerged logs.

Beside me, Morgan paddled, effortlessly graceful.

“So…is this what you do on your dates back in North Carolina? Bring girls out to experience nature?”

“I’ve never been kayaking, either.”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

“I live in a small town. There’s not much to do other than enjoy nature. The river, a trip to the beach, walking trails through the forests. It’s not like there are a lot of clubs and bars where I live.”

Up ahead, a fish jumped, and Morgan pointed with her paddle.

“What kind of fish is that?”

“I’m guessing it’s a tarpon, but I can’t be certain. They’re supposed to be great fishing because they put up a good fight.”

“Do you fish?”

“I’ve been a few times, but it’s not my thing. Believe it or not, Paige enjoys it more than I do, but don’t ask me where she learned. It’s not something we did a lot when we were kids.”

“What’s it like living with your sister? I don’t think I know any brothers and sisters who live together as adults.”

Again, I wondered how much to tell her, before realizing it wasn’t the right time. “I know it might seem odd to other people,” I admitted. “Sometimes it seems odd to me, too. But then again, I’ve never lived alone, so I guess I’m just used to it. I don’t really think about it that much.”

“My sister and I are pretty close, too, but I don’t know if I want to live with her in a few years.”

“You said before that she’s nothing like you, but what does that mean?”

“She couldn’t care less about music or singing or dance or piano. She’s always been a gifted athlete, ever since she was little. She was a natural at every sport—soccer, softball, junior Olympics in track, and then finally volleyball, which turned out to be her passion. She was recruited by a dozen different colleges and will be starting at Stanford in the fall. It doesn’t hurt that she’s almost six feet tall and a straight-A student, of course.”

“She is tall….”

“I know. She gets it from my mom’s side. I’ve always been the runt of the litter in my family.”

“It must be such a challenge for you,” I offered, with a mock sad face. “If I had my guitar, I’d play you a mournful song.”

“Oh, shut up,” she retorted, splashing a little water on me with her paddle, making me duck.

We continued our easy paddling, enjoying the stillness. After a while, remembering the directions, I kept my eyes peeled for the opening that led to the channel through the mangroves. Eventually I spotted it and steered toward it. At the mouth, it was nine or ten feet wide, but it narrowed quickly, making it difficult for us to paddle side by side.