Enchanted August Read Online Free PDF

right turn and sprayed up gravel on the car. “This car will be wrecked by the time we’re done.”
    â€œThis car is the state car of Maine,” said Lottie. “It’s supposed to get wrecked. Follow this road for eight miles and we’ll be at the landing.”
    They headed over a causeway and Rose thought of Bea and Ben and Fred all safe together at home. She pictured them eating their Annie’s mac and cheese and laughing at Road Runner cartoons online.
    â€œI can’t believe we have to take a boat over,” said Lottie. “And I still think you said we were in the Muskrat lot.”
    â€œThere was no Muskrat lot,” said Rose.
    â€œHonestly, I think it’s supposed to be right here. Bear right again.”
    At last the Subaru’s headlights illuminated a very small, very fragile-looking wooden dock. A hand-painted white sign with black letters read LITTLE LOST ISLAND .
    Rose heaved a huge sigh. “We made it” was all she could say.
    They pulled into a small field, with a couple dozen hulking cars parked in two haphazard rows. Rose stopped the car. Silence, except for the sound of the pounding rain on the rooftop. For a moment, neither of them said a word. They had not seen another living being for the past twenty miles. They did not see any on the dock. They had missed the last ferry some three hours ago. They had bags and suitcases enough for a monthlong holiday and now they’d have to face going across the water in what Robert called “a serviceable skiff.” Rose had imagined she could handle a skiff but now, in the dark, in the rain, in her despair, she could only think of the possibilities for failure. This was supposed to be my time to regroup, she thought. She let her head drop to the steering wheel.
    â€œI think we wait here a little for the rain to let up. It’s already clearing,” said Lottie, her optimism grating on Rose, not for the first time. “And take it from there.”
    â€œI think we just go and get it over with,” said Rose. “Let’s take what we need for the night. If we don’t go there now I am going to turn around and never come back.”
    She blasted the door open and got pelted with rain in the fifteen seconds it took to get her slicker on. “I’ll head down to the dock and check out the boat,” she called. She looked back and could see that Lottie was carrying the bottle of Laphroaig they’d picked up in a moment of giddiness at the New Hampshire liquor superstore. We both need a drink, she thought, the second we get there. Maybe even now. I need one now.
    There was only one boat that could possibly be called a skiff tied up to the dock, a twelve-foot Whaler, as Robert had promised.
    Rose spotted a Clorox half bottle floating in the boat and grabbed it. “I’ll start bailing!” she called. “Here, take my bag. Don’t get in yet!”
    â€œDo you know what you’re doing?” Lottie asked.
    â€œYes!” Rose had occasionally taken a boat out on Lake Michigan, back when she and Fred were so poor and so happy in graduate school. But Fred did the bailing then.
    â€œDo you know how to get it started too?”
    â€œYou pump the gas bulb, make sure it’s in neutral, pull out the choke—” She yanked the starting handle twice, hard. Nothing happened. “Come on,” said Rose. She looked up to see that both duffle bags in Lottie’s care were already sopping wet.
    â€œDon’t worry, Rose!” she called. “It’ll catch! I can see the Little Lost dock lights from here, I think.”
    Rose pulled again. Nothing. She pulled again. Still nothing.
    â€œLet me try,” said Lottie.
    Lottie got into the boat without falling in, which was the best that could be said of her seamanship. They cautiously changed places. “I think I can do this,” she said.
    â€œJust don’t flood it,” said Rose.