Read Online Baker Towers by Jennifer Haigh - Free Book Online

over him. It turns everything backward.”
    She stretched out on her back. Her skin glistened with oil; her plump legs looked smooth and boneless, like a roast. At the edge of the pool, Rowsey stood talking to a woman in a striped bathing suit. A fussy toddler squirmed in her arms. Smiling, Rowsey took the baby from her. The child quieted, hanging easily over his good shoulder.
    “Look at that,” said Dorothy.
    Patsy opened one eye, then snorted. “I’m taking a nap. Wake me if something interesting happens.”
    She rolled over onto her stomach and covered her head with a towel.
     
    T HEY WERE BOTH SLEEPING when Rowsey returned to the blanket. He leaned over them and shook his wet head, like a dog drying itself. The girls shrieked, outraged.
    He stretched out on the blanket between them, his skin radiating cold. Dorothy avoided looking at him. She sensed rather than saw his long blond legs, his belly matted with darker hair.
    Patsy sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Who were you talking to?”
    “Some girl. Her husband’s over in England.”
    “Does he know she’s back here flirting with half-naked men in swimming pools?”
    “Who’s flirting?” He studied her. “You’re jealous.”
    “Oh, that’ll be the day.” Patsy gathered her things and rose. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
    “Where are you going?” said Dorothy.
    “I need some shade. Come find me when you’re ready to go.” She turned and headed toward the pavilion. The suit rode up on her pink thigh, revealing a slice of white skin.
    “What’s eating her?” Rowsey asked.
    “The heat, I guess.”
    “It’s awfully hot,” he agreed. “You ought to dive in and cool off.”
    Dorothy hesitated a moment. “I can’t swim.”
    “You’re kidding.” He sat up, studying her. “How come?”
    “I never learned. Back home there was no place to go. Not for girls, anyway. There was a swimming hole in the woods where the boys went.” Every sunny day her brother had hiked there with his friends—Gene Stusick, two or three of the Poblocki boys. Once, the summer she turned fourteen, she had followed behind, stepping carefully along the rugged trail. Screened by trees, she had stood a long time watching. A thick branch of cherry hung low over the water. The naked boys dropped from it like monkeys. Tenor shouts, Tarzan cries, a flash of skin.
    “Come on,” said Rowsey. “I’ll teach you.”
    “Really?”
    “Sure.” He got to his feet. “It’s time you learned.”
    She followed him across the expanse of sand, stepping between blankets and lawn chairs. A wind had started. The pool was emptying out. Mothers crouched on the cement walkway, wrapping children in beach towels.
    The lifeguard gave Rowsey a wave. “There’s a storm coming. If you see any lightning, get out quick.”
    Dorothy approached the edge and dipped her toe in the water. A chill traveled up her leg.
    “You can’t do it like that. You’ve got to go all at once. Watch.” Hebacked up a few paces and took a running leap into the water, landing with a loud splash. Dorothy stepped back, startled.
    His slick head reappeared at the surface. “See?” He swam toward her. “Your turn.”
    “Don’t splash,” she cried. And quickly, before she could change her mind, she scrambled down the ladder. The water was very cold, a shock to her heart.
    “That’s not so bad, is it?”
    “It feels good,” she admitted.
    “Come on.” He led her by the hand toward the center of the pool, until the water reached her chest. Before she realized what was happening, he reached behind her and swung her into his arms.
    “Don’t be scared,” he said. “Just lie back. All you have to do is float.”
    She exhaled slowly, aware of his arms beneath her. She felt perfectly weightless.
    “What about your shoulder?” she asked.
    “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”
    She stared up at him: the rough stubble at his throat, the thick scar on his shoulder. Alien textures, hinting at the vast difference