Part 15 (1/2)

Imogene was already wading gingerly, holding the hem of her skirt high. ”It is, too, cold, Ray Johnson.” She looked back at Ruth. ”My mother says the water's not really warm enough for swimming until July. She'd throw a fit if she knew I even got my toes wet this early.” But she kept on wading, deeper and deeper, until she lost her footing and sat down with a splash. The boys laughed and she laughed with them, pus.h.i.+ng her wet hair back from her face. ”Well, I'm in now. I guess I might as well swim. Come on, Ruth. Come in with me. It's nice. Really, it is.”

Louis shot a spray of water from between his teeth. ”Yeah, come on, Ruth! Come on in!”

The others splashed Ruth and shouted, getting louder and louder as they tried to outdo each other, but when she still hung back, shaking her head, they lost interest.

”Look, I found the dropoff,” Ray said and disappeared.

”Let me try,” Louis said when Ray's head bobbed up again.

”Let's see who can swim the farthest underwater,” Imogene said. ”I'll judge.”

Ruth watched them, the willow fronds draped over her shoulders like a cape. ”You always liked to hide in the shallow water under the willow tree,” Aunt Mandy had said, night after night, when Ruth was tucked in bed with her eyes closed. She was telling Ruth one of her stories about ”the olden days” to put her to sleep. ”And your mama and I would calla”*Where's Ruthie? Where's our girl?' And then finally you couldn't stand it anymore. You would laugh and we would find you. We would always find you.” Ruth bent to untie her shoes.

Slowly, with her eyes on the other three to distract herself and with her hands wrapped tight in willow vines, Ruth inched her feet into the chilly water. Imogene was demonstrating her strokes now, dipping in and out of the blue-green water like a frog.

Ruth waded tentatively into the lake, reviving the forgotten sensation of cool water on her skin, of rocks slimy with algae beneath her feet, of the sun glinting through droplets on her lashes. Deeper and deeper she went, pus.h.i.+ng against the gently resisting waves, ruffling the surface with her palm, bending her knees to feel the water rising tingly and soft around her thighs.

”Hey, Ruth's coming in!” Louis yelled.

Ray had been showing Imogene how to hold her nose and turn a somersault. ”Hey, Ruth,” he said, ”you wanna swim? We'll teach ya. C'mon, it's the easiest thing there is.” All three of them came toward her, pus.h.i.+ng steadily forward so that the water made V shapes behind them.

Where was she? Amanda pulled the edge of the curtain back as if that single inch of fabric could be concealing Ruth as she came up the drive. She should have been home an hour ago, and there were the sheep, practically in the backyard when she'd told Ruth they needed to be herded to the lower meadow that afternoon. Suddenly an idea struck her so hard she nearly staggered. She knew where Ruth was.

Sure enough, when she reached the lake, the boat was gone. So she would have to use Joe Tully's boat again, she thought grimly, marching along the sh.o.r.eline around the bend in the bay.

The Tullys' rowboat was grimy from lack of use and slugs were stuck to the seats, but Amanda wiped it down with a couple hand-fuls of gra.s.s and then launched it with one mighty shove. She stepped in so smoothly at the last possible moment that her feet stayed perfectly dry. She rowed hard, until she heard their voices, squawking like gulls fighting over a fish. And then, on the far side of the island, she looked over her shoulder and saw them, one small, dark head sliding along the top of the water, two boys cheering the swimmer on, and Ruth in the lake beside them.

How many times had she warned Ruth to stay away from the water? At one time or another Carl and Mary Louise and even Joe all had begged her to let them teach Ruth to swim. Then she would be safe, they claimed. Then no one need worry. But that was a foolish hope, as Amanda well knew. Mathilda could swim like a duck and still she'd drowned. Ruth would only be safe from the water if she stayed far from it. And now she was in it, up to her waist, with two boys, their narrow white chests defiantly naked, beside her.

Ruth heard Amanda's voice before she saw her bearing down on them. ”What are you doing?” came the shout, so fierce that Imo-gene heard, though her ears were half under water, stopped swimming, and let her feet touch the bottom. All of them stared at Amanda, too surprised to answer. ”What are you doing here?” she yelled again, clearly aiming the question directly at Ruth.

”I'm a I'm swimming,” Ruth said.

Amanda heard Mathilda's voice coming from the water beside the girl.

Imogene laughed. ”Well, she's not really swimming yet. But we're teaching her.”

Amanda heard Mathilda's laugh from the water beside Imogene. She looked from one girl to the other. She looked at the grinning boys. Amanda felt rage, like a wave, begin deep within her gut, and then grow until it filled every artery and vein, until her very eyeb.a.l.l.s and fingertips swelled with it. She heard her own voice, as if from a distance, mimicking Ruth's.

”Swimming,” she said. ”I'll teach you to swim!”

The children stared at her as she began to row stern first toward them. Nearer and nearer she came, with long, powerful strokes that made the water bank along the transom and spill into the boat. First the boys, then Imogene, stepped back and back, and finally turned and ran for the sh.o.r.e. Ruth, though, stood still, waiting.

Amanda brought the boat right up to the girl in the shallow water, so close that their faces were even, and Ruth could see how tightly her aunt was holding her jaw. She could see the sweat wetting the roots of her hair. She could see the tiny lines, like little cuts, along the top of Amanda's lip.

”What a ?” was all she managed to say, before Amanda leaned toward her, holding out one hand. Ruth took it.

”Get in here,” Amanda said, pulling her hard, and Ruth fell forward into the boat, face first onto the seat. ”Get up.”

Ruth was frighteneda”the voice didn't sound like Amanda's. She obeyed, though, smoothing her sodden skirt over her knees, keeping her eyes on the water streaming from the hem of her dress around her feet.

Amanda began to row. She didn't look at Ruth but kept her gaze on the island over the girl's shoulder. She clenched her teeth and pulled hard on the oars until the veins in her arms stood out like wires. They went farther and farther out into the lake, but Ruth did not look back.

Finally Amanda stopped rowing. She lifted her oars to let them drip for a moment before tucking them inside the boat. Then she stood and took a step toward Ruth. The boat pitched wildly and she gripped the gunwales to steady herself. She stood still until the boat stopped rocking and then came toward Ruth again. ”Stand up,” she said when she was close. ”Up on the seat.”

”No. What are you doing? I don't want to.”

”On the seat, I said.”

Slowly, Ruth pulled her feet onto the seat under her, and slowly, she straightened her knees. The boat rocked and she crouched, grabbing the gunwales.

”Stand up, Ruth.”

”But, Aunt Mandy!”

”I have to teach you, Ruth!” Her voice was shrill, frantic. ”Stand up!”

Even more slowly than the first time, Ruth stood.

”Turn around.”

Ruth turned. Amanda stood behind her so close Ruth could feel her there without a touch. ”I told you not to go to the water, Ruth.”

”I'm sorry.”

”I told you, and you did it anyway. Can't I trust you, Ruth?”

Ruth stood defiant. The sun glinted and sparked on the green water in diamonds and stars, flashes that dazzled her eyes. Do it, she thought. Go ahead. Do it.

”If you come to the water, you have to learn to swim.”

Amanda's push was hard, but not so hard that Ruth could not have kept her balance if she'd tried. But Ruth did not try. She flew out over the water, her shadow dark on the waves beneath her, and then at last she dropped.

With a rush the water filled her ears and her eyes as it closed over her. It wrapped itself around her legs, around her arms, around her neck. It pulled her deeper and tried to hug her to its bosom. For an instant, she let it. For an instant, she sank.

And then, with a jolt, she panicked. She thrashed, struggling against the softness that would not push back. She kicked and kicked and beat her arms, and finally she rose.

Her head broke into the thin air and she gulped, swallowing a mouthful of water. She saw with relief that Amanda was right there, standing in the boat, looking down at the water, watching her.

”I'm doing this for you, Ruth. I have to teach you to swim,” Amanda said again. Then she sat down and started to row toward the sh.o.r.e.

Ruth's panic this time was mixed with confusion. ”Stop!” she gasped, and water ran into her mouth again. She whipped her arms and legs in every direction. Her feet tangled in her dress. Her hands pounded against the water. But she knew it was all right. She could tell now that she'd be able to stay afloat for a moment or two, the time it would take for her aunt to fish her out.

But Amanda didn't fish her out.

”Come on, swim,” she yelled, holding the oars out of the water.