UNDER a bright sun, shadows and heavy clouds are piling up over the peaks from the south. The lake and the dock are below, and the water spreads out quivering like a branch of aspen. Across the dock the men move back and forth, and I hear the sound of a boat being dragged from its rack.

"Go on, Gabe, They'll be waiting for you," says my father and closes the car door.

I do not look back.