Free Still Waters by Emma Carlson Berne Page A

growing dimmer as the sun declined behind the trees, and automatically, Hannah flicked the switch as they entered the kitchen. Nothing. She flipped it on and off again. “No electricity,” she said to Colin as he systematically opened cabinet doors.
    “Right, that makes sense. That means no fridge, too.” Colin opened the cabinet over the sink with a particularly loud screech. “Baked beans?” He held up a can with a stained red and white label and examined the side. “Expired three years ago. Sounds great, right?”
    “Sure. I’m starving.” Hannah sat down at the table, trying to think. The adventure seemed very real now. “So, no lights. Um, do we have a flashlight?”
    Colin was now rummaging through drawers. “Our phones have lights.”
    “Right, but I don’t think that’ll be enough. Do we seriouslyhave no flashlights? It’s going to be really dark soon.” She tamped down a little twinge of fear as she spoke.
    “How about this?” Colin’s voice was triumphant. He turned from a deep drawer holding up a can opener in one hand and two grubby white candles in the other. “And matches, too.”
    “Great!” Hannah made herself sound enthusiastic. Pulling two blue-speckled bowls from one of the glass-fronted cabinets, she opened the can of beans with a few turns of the can opener, dumped it into the bowls and set them on the table. She paused. “Do you think the stove still works?”
    “Maybe.” Colin examined the gas grates. “We can always try. It’s not electric, after all.” He twisted one of the knobs but nothing happened.
    “Try lighting it with a match.” Hannah sniffed. “I can smell the gas coming out.”
    “Good plan. First we’ll blow ourselves up, then we’ll eat dinner. I like how you think, Han.” Colin pulled a match from the box. “Stand back.”
    Hannah edged over as he touched the flame to the grate. Blue fire sprung up, and Hannah squealed. “Nice!” She grabbed their bowls of beans and scraped them into a saucepan. “At least we can have hot expired beans.”
    After a few minutes, she refilled their bowls and held her spoon out toward Colin. “A toast. To our very own vacation paradise,” she said. “Sort of.”
    They clinked spoons, then dug into the sludgy beans, which looked like the leavings from a cement mixer.
    Colin chewed manfully for a few moments. Hannah watched in silence. Then all of a sudden, they looked at each other and laughed. Hannah laughed so hard she had to lay down her spoon. Tears spurted from the corners of her eyes. Colin fell off his chair with a theatrical thump and lay spread-eagled on the floor.
    “Oh my God,” Hannah said weakly when her giggles had trailed off. She wiped her eyes. “Why are we eating this crap?”
    “I have no idea.” Colin sat up. “I need some real food. Let’s go to town. Come on, the map’s in the car.”
    Outside, dusk was falling. The screen door clapped behind them as they stepped out into the rich, loamy twilight air. Hannah stopped so suddenly that Colin almost ran into her from behind. “Oh, look.” She pointed. Across the lake, the sky was streaked with deep blue and violent orange so pure, it was almost painful to look at. In between the streaks burned delicate rose and clear, perfect violet. The sunset was reflected in the lake itself, blurred and reaching to the very edges of the water. The pine trees surrounding the lake made a dark, jagged boundary between the water and the sky, with the woods pressing in all around them.
    Colin glanced up. “Yeah, pretty,” he said without stopping. He climbed into the truck, and Hannah hurried after him, her sneakers gritting on the gravel of the overgrown drive.
    Colin was already bent over the county map, the dome light shining down weakly on the yellowed paper. “Okay, assuming this blue spot is the lake, then the nearest town should be …” He traced his finger down the page. “Nowhere?” He looked atHannah. “Looks like we might have to go all the