Coiled (Book 1 of 2)

I Can't

The fresh breeze offers a welcome cool as it plays across our faces when we finally step off the trail and into the clearing. And as the lowland pine branches creak back and forth all around us, I steal a glance over at Evan and Reggie.

Evan, striding forward with obvious excitement, nodding to himself as he surveys the clearing, the cottage, the lake. He takes in absolutely everything in contemplative silence, and when he turns back to face us, he does so with an expression of pure peace.

Reggie - Reggie stays by my side. And his wonder takes the form of his hand finding mine as he inhales deeply and tips his head towards me, "A paradise."

"What do you think, Evan?"

Calling back to me, his tone one of reverent softness, Evan gestures all around us, "I think ... this is the most beautiful place I've ever seen."

They really do love it, then.

Though what's not to love, really?

And yet I did worry, on some irrational level ...

... Perhaps because the two of them come from such unbelievable means -

As if reading my mind, Evan shrugs, "Nothing surpasses natural beauty. I've never seen anything so perfect ... "

Then, smiling and raising his hand toward Reggie and I, he amends that statement, "Well ... other than ..."

Us?

Us.

Practically giddy from witnessing their mutual delight, I run forward, pulling Reggie along with me as I go. When we reach Evan, I grab his hand, too, "Come along, then. Come along and I'll show you everything."

The cottage itself - extremely modest but completely lovely in its own rustic way. Small, and brightly lit, though somewhat stuffy from not having been occupied since early last autumn. But the boys and I scurry around, and in no time we've flung open all the windows, our bid to air it out successfully. And after that, finding ourselves itching to stay outside, to continue soaking up the golden April sunlight, we wander back outside, our attention turning to the lakefront.

It's a rather large lake, and as we walk the short distance down to its pebble-filled, gravelly shores, we observe how tranquil the water is.

Like the surface of a mirror, completely still

Blues, greens, yellows of all the surrounding foliage reflected back across its surface

Evan's voice, quiet as we continue along together, "... What's it called?"

"Not sure what the proper name is, if it even has one. We've always just called it 'Blueberry Lake.'"

"Why's that?"

"Because ..."

Shielding my eyes with my hand from the bright sunlight, I point in the distance, at the far shore, "Over there, that's where you can find a sea of wild blueberry bushes."

The same blueberries my fathers transplanted to our own gardens

Blueberry Lake blueberries

The sound of our voices is now replaced by the crunching of the network of stones beneath our shoes as we near the lake's edge. Coming to a stop, we stare out, our companionable silence accompanying the sound of the breeze as we admire the lake's beauty.

After a moment, Evan clears his throat. Turning to Reggie and I, he smiles, "... And just how warm - or cold, for that matter - do you imagine the water is?"