Georgette stood on the small bridge over the outlet of the lake. The fall wind rippled the water’s surface. It fluttered her skirt and wisped her long brown hair. She pulled my red and black checked flannel shirt tighter around her shoulders and leaned forward against the railing as I approached.
The wind at my back brought me closer to her with each stroke of the paddle.
Georgette smiled a smile full of teeth. She glowed like a reluctant angel unable to resist some unexpected charm.
I’ve been working on such spells since she returned to me this time, although her spells remain stronger than mine.
***
Georgette helped me pull the canoe up on the sandy beach just down from the bridge.
As I stoked the fire, Georgette said, “This shirt is permeated with smoke.”
I said, “It’s part of the standard-issue uniform they give you when you move up here.”
“Maybe I’ll just keep this one.”
“It looks good on you.”
She poked at the fire with a stick and said, “Did you catch any fish?”
“No.”
“Did you try?”
“Only enough to remember being here with my grandpa.”
***
And like that, Georgette was going away from me again.
The canoe wobbled as she shifted her weight to turn around and smile at me. She grabbed the gunwale until her world steadied.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, and she blew me a kiss.
Georgette fumbled with the paddle at first but soon found a smooth rhythm, and she set off across the now entirely placid lake.
You couldn’t tell the difference between the jagged, abrupt mountains and their reflections in the mirrored water except where Georgette’s wake revealed the substance of their dreams.
***
Beauty takes many forms and is often in the eye of the beholder. But absolute beauty also exists, and this scene is exhibit A.
As I tended the fire, it took all the magic I could conjure–and I had to borrow some of hers–to hold that world together until Georgette returned to me once more with her smile.
Originally published March 30, 2020
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