He’d never seen rain like this. He’d expected it to be cold, but it was almost warm. When it wasn’t lashing them with horizontal cascades that would put Niagara Falls to shame, it pelted them with huge, marble-size drops that did drum rolls on the hood of his poncho. The rest of the Glades had gone away; the world had narrowed to a short length of the channel’s rippling water with only occasional glimpses of its banks. Everything else, including the sky, had been swallowed by dark gray sheets of wet. Only the ever more frequent flashes of lightning and roars of thunder hinted that there might be a world beyond.

Good thing the hardware store had been open so he and Dad could pick up ponchos—dark green, like Carl’s—and a hand pump. He didn’t want to imagine what this trek would have been like without the ponchos. Jack had his hood pulled tight around his head, the drawstring knotted at his throat. Still he was getting wet.

And the hand pump—they wouldn’t have got even this far without it. Into the wind, they paddled; when the twisting channel put the wind to their backs, Jack let Dad rest while he worked the pump to rid them of the rainwater that kept accumulating around their feet.

The canoe had been flooded when they found it. They’d flipped it to empty it, then wasted precious time trying to get the little motor to turn over. Carl finally got it going and they were off.

Jack cupped his hands around his mouth and leaned back toward Carl.

“Did we get to the shallows yet?” he shouted above the din of the rain.

Carl nodded. “Just passed them.”

And we didn’t have to get out and walk, Jack thought. Testament to the amount of water falling out of that sky.

“Let me know when we’re almost to the lagoon.”

Ahead of him Jack noticed that his father had stopped paddling. His oar rested across his lap as he rubbed his left shoulder.

“You okay?” he said, leaning forward.

Dad turned sideways. All Jack could see was his profile; the rest of his head was tucked into the poncho hood.

“I’m okay. Just not used to this sort of thing. At least I don’t have to worry about the lightning.”

“Why not?”

“I tried to lead an orchestra once and found out I was a poor conductor.”

Jack gave him a gentle shove. “One more of those and we toss you overboard!” He could see Dad was exhausted, but not too exhausted to come up with a rotten pun. He gripped his shoulder. “Take a breather. We’re almost there.”

Dad gave a silent nod.