Traces

I

The water lapped gently against the landing pier. Time and the elements had darkened the once-bright wood, and a few of the planks creaked ominously with each step. Finje figured it wouldn't be long before the first boards would give way under his weight. He should replace them before it was too late.

But not today. Today was too beautiful, too warm to waste on anything that remotely resembled work. No, today called for dipping his feet into the cool, clear water, gazing up at the sky, and watching the wisps of mist that drifted inland from the sea, gradually dissolving.

With a deep, contented sigh, Finje stretched out on the small pier, lacing his hands behind his head, intending to enjoy this one day. But his peace lasted only a few minutes. The birds from the nearby forest were singing loudly, filling the warm air with a medley of voices, but that wasn't what disturbed Finje. He could tune out the birds.

No, it was something much quieter that reached his ears, defying all reason. The birds' chirping should have drowned it out, yet a persistent buzzing filled his ears. Grumbling, he swiped through the air and along his ear, hoping to chase away any bothersome insects. But his hands came up empty, and the buzzing remained.

With an exasperated groan, Finje propped himself up on his elbows and looked around. He couldn’t see anyone, nor were there any insects buzzing around his head or crawling on the wood. A bird circled above the treetops, but it wasn’t the source of the buzzing. Two butterflies danced over the lake’s mirror-like surface, but they, too, couldn’t be causing the noise.

In a last attempt, Finje dug his fingers into his ears, but only earwax came out. The buzzing didn’t change. Before he could dwell on it further, a shout drowned out the birdsong and the buzzing.

"Finje!"

A fishing boat drifted toward him, the two oars leaning against the railing, raised like arms to the sky. Patty stood on the seat, a broad grin on his face, waving his arms as if to shoo away a swarm of midges.

"Finje," he called again, grabbing the oars to cover the last stretch to the landing pier faster than the drifting boat could manage on its own. When Patty was within reach, he tossed Finje a rope, which Finje caught and used to pull the boat closer and secure it to the pier. Although the lake was so calm that the boat drifting away was unlikely, neither of them wanted to take the risk. Especially since Finje’s own boat was barely bigger than a nutshell, enough for himself but not for two people.

No sooner had Patty safely climbed out of the boat than Finje found himself in his friend's firm embrace. Laughing, Finje patted his broad back.

"You act like we haven’t seen each other in years. What’s going on, did you finally ask Elya the question?"

At this, Patty stepped back, the broad grin still on his face.

"No," his friend admitted. "She did."

Finje was about to launch into a familiar scolding, a speech he had repeated weekly for at least a year by now. They both knew it by heart—it was always the same. Why hadn’t Patty finally married Finje’s sister, especially after all the years they’d been dancing around each other, considering they weren’t getting any younger, and with so many other young men in town who would gladly have Elya as their wife? If Patty didn’t take action soon, Finje feared, his sister might give up hope and turn to someone else.

He’d already opened his mouth when the meaning of Patty’s words sank in. Elya had proposed to Patty? She’d often joked about taking matters into her own hands and had once or twice mentioned that maybe she should ask him. But Finje had always thought she was kidding. And now his little sister had proposed to his best friend?