Read Online Savior by Anthony Caplan - Free Book Online Page B

automation of some of the factory's warehouse facilities.
    Mary came inside and picked up a figurine from the mantle over the unused fireplace. It was a Peruvian sun god that the owner of the house had picked up somewhere. It had been four years since Al and she had sailed up the Inner Passage and spent nights drifting among the glaciers and orcas, and her dreams since then had taken her even further afield. The girl inside her would be an emanation of all such dreams. Mary had an almost impossible sense of anticipation about the birth.
    Mary. How about a little adventure on a boat?
    What kind of boat are you talking, Al? Tony asked.
    I don't know. A kayak. Ever been on one, Mary?
    No. Why would I ever have been on a kayak, Al?
    I don't know. Girl Scouts?
    I was never a Girl Scout. I was too busy reading. You are silly sometimes.
    I'm sure you've dreamt about one. You dream such amazing stuff.
    It's supposed to get nice this afternoon, Ginny interrupted.
    Al stood up. I'll call and see if the boat place is open .
    He hugged his wife with one hand as he held the cell phone to his ear. Mary pulled away and went and sat at his spot at the table. Tony looked over the top of the sports page.
    How you feeling today?
    Super, Mary said, smiling.
    That's great. The fresh air is doing us all good.
    You and Ginny coming out with us?
    Why not ? Work up an appetite for lunch.
    I've been thinking about your suggestion for a name, Tony. I really do like Layla.
    Layla Lyons. Trips off the tongue.
    It means dark night in Arabic. I looked it up.
    There you go. Perfect. You love the night. You're always walking around in the dark.
    But your mother's name Giselle is also nice. Maybe as a middle name.
    Run it past Al.
    Layla Giselle Lyons.
    She's going to be the perfect little girl, Ginny said, leaning over the edge of the table and holding her hand over Mary's belly. May I?
    Yes.
    Oh, yes. There she goes, a little kick.
    She wants to get out and about .
    The place has kayaks, singles and doubles, said Al, triumphantly snapping the cell phone closed. Not bad rates either.
    He poured some more coffee from the pot on the side table.
    How's your back ? Ginny addressed her husband.
    It's fine right now. Ask me later when we've paddled to New York State and back.
    I think we'll be less ambitious, won't we?
    Not with these two, said Mary.
    The cat followed the four of them out to the two cars parked in the short driveway. It disappeared into the hedges between the side yard and the next house. A bird flew down from a branch of the birch tree and hopped in the wet grass. Mary had put a sweatshirt of Al's over her turtleneck and pulled it down over her belly, stretching it tight over the baby. They piled into the cars. Al and Mary pulled out first. Al had the directions written on a scrap of paper. Mary was the navigator. They drove for fifteen minutes along the road between North Hero and Hibbard Bay. The boat shop was just north of Hibbard Bay before the bridge. There were all sorts of possible paddle routes, but the man in the shop, with close set eyes behind wire rimmed glasses and tough calloused hands handing over the paddles and life vests, suggested sticking to the shore on the northward side to avoid the wind coming from the west. The rain would not totally stop until later, but the sun at times was struggling hard to break through the massed cloud cover.
    They set out together from the concrete slip, Mary and Al in one kayak and Ginny and Tony in the other. The paddling seemed easy, dipping the blades in consecutively and pulling through the shoulders with a quick, easy motion. The boats slid through the water like knives, and the experience reminded Mary of a Neruda poem she'd read in a college Spanish class. Your silence is a constellation , the poet had written. Mary remained silent. She thought the rhythm to herself and felt Al pulling it with the paddle, one side and then the other. It was easy to imagine themselves as indigenous people