Surface Rights by Melissa Hardy

Author:Melissa Hardy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dundurn
Published: 2013-11-10T16:00:00+00:00

At some point the skiff sprang a leak. Unfortunately for Verna and Romy, they did not discover this until they were in the middle of the lake. Verna because she was still fuming — paddling the skiff solo was far more work than paddling the canoe in concert with Winonah would have been; only half way and already her shoulders and upper back had started to ache; her hands, too, unaccustomed to gripping oars;. As for Romy, she wiggled and squirmed and nattered nervously on and on about this and that: “Oh, it’s so beautiful here, Auntie Verna! What would you call that colour that the lake is? I would call it ‘midnight blue.’ Do you see the clouds reflected in the water? What kind of clouds are those? Are those nimbus clouds or cumulus clouds? Auntie Verna! Is that a dragonfly? Why do they call it a dragonfly? It doesn’t look like a dragon.” When she did pause to catch her breath and glance at the bottom of the boat, she gasped with horror. “Omigod, Auntie Verna! What is that?”

Verna, disgruntled, followed her gaze. Water was pooling at the bottom of the boat. “What? What do you think it is? It’s water.”

“I know it’s water. Do you think I’m an idiot?” (Well, yes, thought Verna unkindly.) “What I want to know is what’s it doing on the bottom of the boat?”

“There must be a leak. Don’t worry. Boats leak. It’ll be fine.”

“What if it isn’t fine?” Romy demanded. “What if the boat sinks?”

“It’s not going to sink.”

“But what if it does?”

Honestly, Verna thought. “Romy! It’s only a little water.”

“Oh, yeah? It’s more now.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Yes, it is. Look!” And she pointed.

She was right. The bottom of the skiff was now covered with water an inch deep. Verna could feel it start to seep through the canvas of her sneakers. Don’t overreact, she told herself. Go into downplay mode. Otherwise Romy will go ballistic. She’s teetering on the edge as it is. She’s always teetering on the edge. What is wrong with her, anyway? Doesn’t she realize that youth is everything, that she’s obsessing away the years that matter? That, in the end, this is what you’re left with: only this. For example: me. I am left. And it’s not bloody much, not at all. “Remember Archimedes’ principle of buoyancy.” A clumsy attempt to dampen the girl’s evidently escalating panic — one which turned out to be entirely unsuccessful.

“What?” Romy made a horrible creaking noise.

“‘A body immersed in a fluid is buoyed up by a force equal to the weight of the displaced fluid.’ You know, Romy. The principle of buoyancy. Archimedes.”

“Archie who?”

“Oh, Jesus, never mind! Look, all I’m saying is that, as long as we don’t take on too much water, we’ll stay afloat long enough to get to shore. Worst comes to worst, we come back in the canoe. Or walk.”

“What if we don’t get to shore?”

“What if? What if?” Verna closed her eyes. God, what an exasperating

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