Shadows Cast by Stars

My father was right. It shifted under my weight, nothing more. Docks don’t just move without reason.

The sun is hot, and the water, so cool against my bare legs. I pull off my shirt, and then, with a quick glance back at the house just to make sure no one’s come home, I pull off the rest of my clothes and slip into the lake.

It’s icy cold, but soon my flesh numbs. I float on my back, naked, until I feel the forest watching me, and then I dive. The merganser flashes past me in a blur of red, chasing a school of fish. I take comfort in that and linger underwater as long as I can while my lungs tighten. Green waterweeds wave back and forth. The sun trickles down as if it’s made of water, and the lake, of glass.

I wait there until my lungs feel like they’re about to burst, and then I set my feet on the lakebed, bend my knees, and push off, jettisoning myself to the surface. The merganser chicks scatter as I break through the water. I laugh, and then notice the shadow hanging over me.

The muskrat boy stands on the dock. “I didn’t know there were mermaids in the lake,” he says.

I push myself underwater and swim to the end of the dock, my cheeks burning against the chill of the water as my mind races. How am I going to get out with him standing there, and just what did he see? When I surface, I press my chest against a piling so only my head’s visible.

“No need to be shy,” he says as he strolls toward me. “I didn’t see much. These yours?” He points at the heap of clothing at his feet.

“What are you doing here?” I demand.

“Came to see your brother.” He leans toward me, smiling at my discomfort. “Not coming out?” When I don’t answer, he shrugs. “Suit yourself.” He grabs the hem of his shirt, as if he’s about to take it off.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Well, if you aren’t coming out, I have to come in, don’t I?”

“Like hell you do.” I spot Paul walking across the sun-deck up at the house. “Paul!” I scream. “Paul!”

It takes only a second for him to assess the situation. He bounds down the hill, snatching an ax from the woodpile along the way. By the time he reaches the dock, he’s going for blood. “Cedar, get away from my sister!”

The muskrat boy drops the hem of his shirt and holds up his hands. “What’s the matter, Mercredi? I’m just having a bit of fun!”

Paul pulls his lips into a snarl. Cedar takes another step back, inching toward a rowboat tied to the other side of the dock. “Listen, man, I was just messing with her. No harm intended.”

“Get out of here.” Paul heaves the ax from hand to hand.

“I’m going. I just came by to tell you that the Band’s meeting tonight at sundown. At the park. Be there.” He returns Paul’s snarl with one of his own, steps into the rowboat, and rows away.

Paul waits for him to leave and then turns on me. “What the hell are you thinking? Swimming naked where everyone can see you?”

“Don’t yell at me! He’s your creepy friend. Besides, I didn’t know anyone was home.”

“Dad and I just got back, and he’s no friend of mine.” Paul swings the ax up onto his shoulder. “If you want to swim, wear a swimsuit next time.” He starts down the dock, but draws up, favoring his right foot.

I wince. His sole is bleeding. He must have cut it running down here. I wait until he’s gone and then haul myself out of the water, dressing as quickly as I can so I can follow Paul and see to his foot, but by the time I’ve scurried up to the house, he’s left.

“Leave him be,” my father says when I ask where Paul’s gone. “He’s struggling to find his place.”

“His place is here with us,” I mutter as I storm around the house, searching for something to wear tonight that’s not threadbare or a crumpled mess.

“Yes, but he also has to figure out how to live with everyone else. We don’t exist in a vacuum.” My father nods at the dress in my hand. “Wear that. It reminds me of your mother.”

“This?” I frown at it. “It’s too creased.”

“Here. Give it to me. I’ll see what I can do about it.”

“Are you going tonight?”

My father smiles one of his rare smiles. “Yes. Should make an appearance, being one of the new families in town, shouldn’t we?” He drapes my dress over his shoulder and meanders off, humming to himself.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I don’t know how my father did it, but an hour later, I’m wearing a wrinkle-free dress, the only dress I own. My mother wore this dress once, and gave it to me before she passed. It was too big then, but it isn’t now, and I wonder what she would think, me standing here, old enough to wear a dress she wore when she was my age. When I come down the stairs, my father’s there in the kitchen, looking up at me with tears in his eyes. He brushes them away, and clears his throat. “Tickle from the dust,” he mumbles. “You know.”

I smile. I do know.

Just then the kitchen door creaks open. I turn, expecting Paul, but it’s Bran-Bran like I’ve never seen him before, with a collared shirt and clean shorts. He’s even slicked his hair back out of his eyes.

I don’t know what to do. The last time I saw him, I blamed him for Paul getting involved with the Band. The time before that, I kissed him.

“I was hoping,” he says. He pauses to swallow, and I realize this is new to him. But then again, this is new to me, too. “I was hoping I could take Cassandra to the gathering,” he finally says, forcing the words out so quickly that my father can scarcely stop himself from laughing.

I look at my father. He looks at me, arching an eyebrow as if to say, Is this what you want? Are you sure?

Yes, Dad. I’m sure.

“Well, I guess that’s okay. Go on. Have her home sometime tonight.”

I kiss my father’s cheek and follow Bran outside.

We walk down the hill in silence, both too shy to speak. He holds the canoe for me, and once we’re both seated, paddles us out into the lake. Bran’s humming, just under his breath, a sound that should calm me, but it doesn’t. My hands have found the sides of the canoe and grip it so tightly that I can’t feel my fingers anymore, but not because of Bran. It’s the shadow I saw in the water. I’m looking for it now, and I can’t shake the feeling that it’s looking for me, too.

Bran taps my shoulder. “Are you nervous?”

For a moment I wonder how he could know, until I realize he’s talking about the gathering. “A little,” I admit.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you have a good time.”

From somewhere on the other side of the lake, a raven cackles. If Bran hears it, he gives no sign. “You don’t mind, do you?” he asks.

“Mind?”

“About me coming to get you?”

“No,” I say. He can’t see my smile. I don’t mind at all.

Bran continues to talk while he paddles. My brother is a good wood worker, he says. That’s what they’ve been up to while I’ve been with Madda. He tells me about the totem pole they’ve been working on, the images he’s carved, the paints he’s using. I close my eyes and the pole appears in my mind, an enormous grizzly holding a salmon in its mouth, a raven, a kingfisher. I wonder if Bran is aware that he’s talking about his own totem, and Paul’s, too.

“Would you like to see it?” he asks. I look back at him and nod. He grins as a blush stains his cheeks. Something in my chest tightens at the sight of it. “Good. Maybe Paul’s surprise will be ready by then.”

“Surprise?”

“Oh. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

Maybe not, but that’s okay. I like surprises.

We arrive at the beach all too soon. Bran stows the canoe under the lazy boughs of a willow before taking my