Doom Lake Holiday. Tom Henighan

your specialty, then?”

      He hesitated, smiled, then confessed, “It’s a little difficult to explain, but to put it concisely, I study magic.” He spoke in a soft, reassuring voice, and regarded them with kindliness and with a certain humour from behind his light-tinted glasses.

      “Wow! Magic!” Lee gaped at him, impressed.

      “‘Wow’ maybe. But don’t expect any tricks from me. I won’t make your SUV disappear, for example.”

      “I’m relieved,” Mr. Mallory laughed. “But if you’re ready, Cal, I guess we should be heading off to our island. Thanks for taking care of the car, Dr. Sinclair.”

      “Call me Lawson. Perhaps we’ll talk again soon — after you’ve met Dr. Gwynn.”

      “Is that likely to be soon?”

      The other man laughed. “That’s likely to be when he feels like it — and when you least expect it.”

      “All aboard,” Cal called out, and he started the engine. The family clambered on board and sat on the two facing rows of benches beneath the small canopy. There was some initial roaring and sputtering from the old motor, but within a few minutes the cruiser was chugging away from the dock.

      “Well, the sun’s coming out — that’s a blessing,” Mrs. Mallory observed.

      “The lake looks inviting,” Mr. Mallory said. “We must have been at the dud end. Quite a few islands out there. Now if Lawson can keep an eye on our car, and this mysterious island is at least comfortable —”

      “And the house on it clean,” his wife cut in. “That too. Lawson seemed a bit of a funny bird, don’t you think?”

      “I thought he seemed very nice. Sedate and responsible — and he can’t be more than twenty-five or thirty.”

      “Wiser than his years, I suppose. I wonder what kind of magic he studies.”

      “Black magic, of course,” piped up Lee.

      Her father turned on her. “Lee! That’s not funny! Just keep it up and you’ll be banished to a separate island.”

      His daughter gazed at him in horror. “Dad! I didn’t mean it that way. Honest, I really didn’t. He just seemed very cool and mysterious, that’s all.”

      Anne Mallory reached over and patted her husband’s hand. “I’m sure our Lee wasn’t trying to be obnoxious, John. Let’s just all relax and enjoy the scenery.”

      Chip did just that. He leaned back against one of their duffel bags and gazed around with increasing pleasure. The lake was almost tranquil now, clear and glittering in the fresh light. They chugged along steadily, making progress toward a cluster of rocky islands, low-lying and barely treed, and, after a while, motored past them. Two larger, well-forested islands loomed ahead, but the lake stretched clear beyond them to the opposite shore. Chip wondered exactly where they were heading.

      All the time, the sky was opening up. Big clouds sailed off to the east, and deep blue patches appeared in their wake. It grew warmer.

      The cruiser now bore to the right, or starboard, of the big islands. And in the distance they could see other, smaller islands much closer to the shore they had departed from — so many indeed that they created the illusion of one big, complex land mass folded up into several green, rocky layers.

      “A beautiful lake,” Mr. Mallory observed, nodding at Cal. “Huge, too.”

      “It’s big enough,” Cal grunted. “But some don’t call it beautiful. They call it ‘Doom Lake.’”

      Lee giggled. Mr. Mallory said nothing, but turned and winked at his wife.

      Chip stretched and lay back. He hadn’t slept much last night, and now he found himself quite dozy, closing his eyes and drifting off a little, lulled by the steady buzz of the big outboard.

      Only minutes later — or so it seemed — loud voices sounded around him. He opened his eyes quickly and saw that everything had changed: they were no longer far out in the open lake, but navigating slowly through a series of narrow channels that ran between the low islands. Rocky shores, beaches, coves, and woods — all seemed almost close enough to touch.

      “Have a nice nap?” Lee inquired. “You didn’t miss much — just half the trip.”

      “It’s good to see you relaxing, dear,” his mother said.

      Chip yawned, stretched, and leaned over the side of the boat. “I like this place,” he said. “It’s closed in, and kind of… private.”

      “Although you don’t get a view of the big lake,” Mr. Mallory said.