Cherie wandered out onto the porch of her family’s river cabin. She spied what looked like a great sunset.
“Mom, I’m gonna take a canoe ride, it’s golden hour.” Cherie hollered. “OK.” Her mom answered from inside.
She grabbed her camera and ran down to the pier. She slid the canoe into the water and gently got in, carefully putting her camera strap around her neck. She pushed away and headed down river. Evening had set in. The river was still, mirroring the tall redwoods which stood poised on the banks like attentive soldiers. The sun began to dip into the western sky as Cherie quietly paddled and spied the banks for birds and wildlife.
“Cherie!” a voice called out. Surprised, she turned to the voice, but couldn’t see who it was because of the sun’s glare. After she shaded her brow, she saw him on the pier. Chris Thomas! She hadn’t seen him in years and, then suddenly, she felt like a gangly, shy fourteen-year-old girl again.
“Chris, is that you?” she squinted.
“Yeah, are you going downriver?” he asked.
“Just a bit…why?”
“My boat ran out of gas…and I could use a lift?”
“Sure,” she blushed. Chris was her brother Billy’s friend who she pined over most of her high school summers. Ten years had gone by, and she still hadn’t met anyone like him.
She maneuvered the canoe to the pier and grabbed the gas can from his hand. Chris climbed in, “Thank you so much. I’m so glad I didn’t have to walk.”
“No problem.” After Chris pushed the canoe away, she tapped his shoulder with the wet oar and eyeballed the other oar. “You can help paddle.” He turned around, chuckled, and grabbed the oar. She watched him paddle from the back seat and all her adolescent emotions throbbed. Breathe, Cherie, breathe, she said to herself.
“How have you been?” Chris asked. “Billy said you finished your Master’s.”
“I did – it was a long haul and I’m happy to be done with it,” she answered.
“I’m very impressed!” He threw a smile over his shoulder.
“So…when did you get back in the country? You were in Europe, right?”
“I’ve been back for a while,” Chris spotted movement on the bank, “Hey, there’s a heron, did you want to get a shot?” He slowed the canoe while Cherie took pictures.
“This is the best time on the river.” Cherie mused. “After the summer crowds are gone, it’s so still and quiet, my favorite time.”
“Mine too.” He turned around and noticed how attractive she was.
The golden rays bathed the banks of the river as they canoed. Sparse cackles from various birds and gentle swishing of tree leaves provided a perfect summer soundtrack. “Hey, I read some of your articles, they’re good, and your photos are wonderful. I love your bird pics. What an interesting life you have!” Cherie admired.
“It’s fun, but there are more important things in life. Now, Billy has a great life, he met a nice woman and has beautiful, funny kids.” Chris continued paddling.
“You’re right, he does.” They canoed in silence, and Cherie caught sight of his boat and slid the canoe ashore. Chris got out of the canoe and Cherie handed him the gas can.
“You want me to wait around?” she offered.
“No, I think I’ll be OK.” Chris said, then something caught his eye.
“Gimme your camera,” he ordered quietly. She was confused but took it off her neck and handed it to him.
“Cherie…look at me.” He focused and took a shot. “Smile…” She smiled shyly. He took another one. He handed her the camera and said, “Take a look.” She looked at the picture, looked at him in astonishment and turned around.
The last full summer moon had risen right over the peaks of the redwood soldiers. If that wasn’t wonderful enough, the moon stood as a backdrop as a single swan perched on an old river log. The last golden rays highlighted the swan like a theater spotlight.
“Oh, wow…thank you! That is so cool,” she said breathlessly. She turned and took more photos.
Chris watched her in admiration. “Hey, I appreciate your help. I was just gonna go back to the cabin and cook some pizza. Wanna join me?”
“Uhm…sure, OK,” she answered nervously.
“We could talk more about photography and birds.” And in a French accent, he said, “See you in 30 minutes, Chéri?”
“OK, it’s a date…uhm, no, no, that’s not what I meant. I meant, yes, I’ll be there.”
“It could be a date.” He grinned and winked.
The boat’s small engine started with a purr, and he pulled the boat from the beach. “Go ahead, I’ll follow you home.” And they headed slowly upriver together.
FROM THE SHOE 