Read Online Necessary Detour by Kim Hornsby - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kim Hornsby
Tags: Suspense, Contemporary
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soften the news of her mother getting knocked up on a one-night stand? Anything said, sounded cheap.
Rounding the bottom of the lake, Nikki cruised lazily back up the opposite side, only fifty feet from shore. The privilege of staring at everyone else’s empty cottages was new to her. She usually hid from prying eyes on shore. But this was September and few people remained. Hardly anyone had a place on the side with no roads. And except for the town at the south end, no one visited the northern part of the lake in the winter. When the snow flew, the trails and old logging roads would be impassable.
When she was level with Half Moon Bay, Nikki turned the boat and headed for home. Skimming the surface at a low speed, the boat stopped, waves washing up the sides from the sudden halt.
Elvis fell from his perch on the chair and Nikki lunged to make sure he hadn’t hurt himself. Once satisfied her dog was fine, she said a silent prayer to the goddess of motors and turned the key with no success.
Damn. She knew nothing about boats. She’d wait and try again.
Elvis watched her. “S’okay, Elvis. Mommy meant to take a break in the middle of Louisa Lake.” She plunked down in the captain’s chair and exhaled loudly. Elvis wagged his tail and flew to his perch at the bow. One, two, three…Nikki counted to twenty and looked around. No other boats in sight. When she turned the key again, the silence baffled her.
She opened the engine compartment. Maybe there was an obvious problem, like a dead rat or a fish or something blocking the thingy that helps the boat start.
But she saw nothing unusual even though everything in an engine compartment was grossly unusual to her. She tried the key one more time with no success, and, as she checked her pockets, Nikki remembered her cell phone was back on the kitchen counter. Dammit all. The boat was closer to Dickerson’s property facing the backside of her neighbor’s peninsula, which was so overgrown with shrubs and blackberry bushes that a stranded boat would be invisible from the house.
Then she noticed the stern line still attached to the cleat, trailing into the water. It had probably been flapping behind the boat for twenty minutes before the propeller caught it. She looked over the side. The rope was pulled tighter than a drum—definitely wound around the propeller. She hit the button to raise the propeller but it wouldn’t budge. There wasn’t a knife, scissors or anything sharp on board to cut the rope.
“Elvis, can you gnaw through this if I send you over?” He tilted his head at mommy’s ridiculous words. Dammit. She’d have to go in and investigate. The phrase “up a creek without a paddle” came to mind. Remembering a paddle in the floor hatch, she pulled it out and checked the distance to the closest shore. The only way to avoid paddling was if someone came out to tow her. Ten minutes earlier, Nikki had been happy to be the only boat on the lake. Now she cursed her isolation.
Wait a minute…She looked to the mouth of the bay and saw something on the point. Someone was out on the point at Dickerson’s. Abandoning dignity, Nikki jumped up on the bow and waved frantically. “Pete!” He could phone the marina and have someone come to get her. Or, if he was resourceful, he could paddle her canoe out to bring a knife. Nikki made half circles in the air with her arms then held the binoculars to her eyes.
No one remained. Hopefully he was phoning the marina to report Nikki’s predicament. After fifteen minutes, she was confused and started paddling again, wondering when help would come. Her arms ached, back burned, and Elvis had fallen asleep in the shade of the boat’s bimini cover.
Fifty minutes later, the wind came up and making headway became challenging. If she didn’t paddle, the boat would be carried into the most isolated part of the whole lake. She shuddered to think how she’d get back to civilization if that happened.
By the time she crossed the
Rounding the bottom of the lake, Nikki cruised lazily back up the opposite side, only fifty feet from shore. The privilege of staring at everyone else’s empty cottages was new to her. She usually hid from prying eyes on shore. But this was September and few people remained. Hardly anyone had a place on the side with no roads. And except for the town at the south end, no one visited the northern part of the lake in the winter. When the snow flew, the trails and old logging roads would be impassable.
When she was level with Half Moon Bay, Nikki turned the boat and headed for home. Skimming the surface at a low speed, the boat stopped, waves washing up the sides from the sudden halt.
Elvis fell from his perch on the chair and Nikki lunged to make sure he hadn’t hurt himself. Once satisfied her dog was fine, she said a silent prayer to the goddess of motors and turned the key with no success.
Damn. She knew nothing about boats. She’d wait and try again.
Elvis watched her. “S’okay, Elvis. Mommy meant to take a break in the middle of Louisa Lake.” She plunked down in the captain’s chair and exhaled loudly. Elvis wagged his tail and flew to his perch at the bow. One, two, three…Nikki counted to twenty and looked around. No other boats in sight. When she turned the key again, the silence baffled her.
She opened the engine compartment. Maybe there was an obvious problem, like a dead rat or a fish or something blocking the thingy that helps the boat start.
But she saw nothing unusual even though everything in an engine compartment was grossly unusual to her. She tried the key one more time with no success, and, as she checked her pockets, Nikki remembered her cell phone was back on the kitchen counter. Dammit all. The boat was closer to Dickerson’s property facing the backside of her neighbor’s peninsula, which was so overgrown with shrubs and blackberry bushes that a stranded boat would be invisible from the house.
Then she noticed the stern line still attached to the cleat, trailing into the water. It had probably been flapping behind the boat for twenty minutes before the propeller caught it. She looked over the side. The rope was pulled tighter than a drum—definitely wound around the propeller. She hit the button to raise the propeller but it wouldn’t budge. There wasn’t a knife, scissors or anything sharp on board to cut the rope.
“Elvis, can you gnaw through this if I send you over?” He tilted his head at mommy’s ridiculous words. Dammit. She’d have to go in and investigate. The phrase “up a creek without a paddle” came to mind. Remembering a paddle in the floor hatch, she pulled it out and checked the distance to the closest shore. The only way to avoid paddling was if someone came out to tow her. Ten minutes earlier, Nikki had been happy to be the only boat on the lake. Now she cursed her isolation.
Wait a minute…She looked to the mouth of the bay and saw something on the point. Someone was out on the point at Dickerson’s. Abandoning dignity, Nikki jumped up on the bow and waved frantically. “Pete!” He could phone the marina and have someone come to get her. Or, if he was resourceful, he could paddle her canoe out to bring a knife. Nikki made half circles in the air with her arms then held the binoculars to her eyes.
No one remained. Hopefully he was phoning the marina to report Nikki’s predicament. After fifteen minutes, she was confused and started paddling again, wondering when help would come. Her arms ached, back burned, and Elvis had fallen asleep in the shade of the boat’s bimini cover.
Fifty minutes later, the wind came up and making headway became challenging. If she didn’t paddle, the boat would be carried into the most isolated part of the whole lake. She shuddered to think how she’d get back to civilization if that happened.
By the time she crossed the
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