her shoulder.
I taught her the island but soon found she knew more than me. She was good about melting into the woods. Got so she could scare me half to death, stepping out only when I rode right up on her. My horse shied every time.
I taught her how to speak enough English to be useful and how to use my gun in case anything happened to me. My boys would’ve dragged me home and locked me up for sure if they’d known. But Mena wasn’t going anywhere. She kept her eyes on the water, but I could tell she knew that pulling something with me wouldn’t carry her back as far as she wanted to go.
She had it all right with me. Some work cooking and cleaning but not too much. I tended to wear my clothes until they stood up on their own and I was a threat to cook a little myself and check on the garden too. She was spared the heavy chores since I had our staples dropped off every few months. Candles, preserves, soap and jars of smoked meat. She had wood to gather but the storms did most of it for her and gathering gave her a reason to go to the beach. Not bad. Not bad at all.
I had Mena on a task system and she kept her own clock as soon as she had her chores done. She rose in the dark so she could make it to the ocean and back before breakfast. But I started waking earlier and earlier myself as the days lengthened. I sometimes made a dawn ride. One loop around our end of the island and through the dunes. My old gelding seemed to like the change of pace and it sure beat lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Aging angered me to the point that I was drawn into an endless fight against it. Trick was to keep moving so I added a swim whenever I could manage.
On my early rides, I sometimes came across Mena hovering at the water’s edge with her eyes locked on the horizon and her long dark dress growing darker from where she kept stepping into the surf. She looked to me almost like a setter on point, pulled towards whatever it was she saw out there.
That first time I saw her in the water, I watched to make sure she was staying in the shallows, then I rode on. But when I came to the house after putting my horse away and found her fixing my breakfast with her dress wet up to her waist, I started to worry she would drown. I tried forbidding the ocean but soon found I had no leverage I was willing to use so I just fretted.
Then one day I was up first. It was a hot calm morning with no waves. One big sheet of water glowing glassy pink and so still that I stepped right in. Softest water I ever felt. I must have lost track of time because Mena was coming through the dunes, headed for the water just as I was stepping out of it. Made me glad I had kept my drawers on. Gladder still that I was finally finished with all that business.
But something about that morning made me realize I was tired of worrying Mena might drown. I decided to teach her to swim, just like I’d taught Eli and Campbell. First, how to float so she wouldn’t panic from sinking. I stood facing her then lay back in the water, lifting my eyes to the sky, breathing shallowly and letting water fill my ears. Then I stood up and gestured for her to do the same.
It took her a minute. She kept kneeling in the water instead of lying back and I kept telling her no. Stay stiff like a plank. Then she’d nod and do the same thing. I turned her facing out to sea, laid one palm on the small of her back and used the other on her forehead, telling her to lean back but lie flat.
“Don’t crouch and quit kneeling, dammit.”
Soon as she did like I’d told her, I saw why she’d been working so hard not to. Soon as she lay back, soon as her dark billowy dress lay drenched against her front, I saw her belly for the first time. It reared up so round, I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen it before. She was good and pregnant. Five months by my best guess. My mouth dropped open as she lay there floating in my palm but she kept her eyes on the clouds. Wouldn’t look at me but she started
I taught her the island but soon found she knew more than me. She was good about melting into the woods. Got so she could scare me half to death, stepping out only when I rode right up on her. My horse shied every time.
I taught her how to speak enough English to be useful and how to use my gun in case anything happened to me. My boys would’ve dragged me home and locked me up for sure if they’d known. But Mena wasn’t going anywhere. She kept her eyes on the water, but I could tell she knew that pulling something with me wouldn’t carry her back as far as she wanted to go.
She had it all right with me. Some work cooking and cleaning but not too much. I tended to wear my clothes until they stood up on their own and I was a threat to cook a little myself and check on the garden too. She was spared the heavy chores since I had our staples dropped off every few months. Candles, preserves, soap and jars of smoked meat. She had wood to gather but the storms did most of it for her and gathering gave her a reason to go to the beach. Not bad. Not bad at all.
I had Mena on a task system and she kept her own clock as soon as she had her chores done. She rose in the dark so she could make it to the ocean and back before breakfast. But I started waking earlier and earlier myself as the days lengthened. I sometimes made a dawn ride. One loop around our end of the island and through the dunes. My old gelding seemed to like the change of pace and it sure beat lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Aging angered me to the point that I was drawn into an endless fight against it. Trick was to keep moving so I added a swim whenever I could manage.
On my early rides, I sometimes came across Mena hovering at the water’s edge with her eyes locked on the horizon and her long dark dress growing darker from where she kept stepping into the surf. She looked to me almost like a setter on point, pulled towards whatever it was she saw out there.
That first time I saw her in the water, I watched to make sure she was staying in the shallows, then I rode on. But when I came to the house after putting my horse away and found her fixing my breakfast with her dress wet up to her waist, I started to worry she would drown. I tried forbidding the ocean but soon found I had no leverage I was willing to use so I just fretted.
Then one day I was up first. It was a hot calm morning with no waves. One big sheet of water glowing glassy pink and so still that I stepped right in. Softest water I ever felt. I must have lost track of time because Mena was coming through the dunes, headed for the water just as I was stepping out of it. Made me glad I had kept my drawers on. Gladder still that I was finally finished with all that business.
But something about that morning made me realize I was tired of worrying Mena might drown. I decided to teach her to swim, just like I’d taught Eli and Campbell. First, how to float so she wouldn’t panic from sinking. I stood facing her then lay back in the water, lifting my eyes to the sky, breathing shallowly and letting water fill my ears. Then I stood up and gestured for her to do the same.
It took her a minute. She kept kneeling in the water instead of lying back and I kept telling her no. Stay stiff like a plank. Then she’d nod and do the same thing. I turned her facing out to sea, laid one palm on the small of her back and used the other on her forehead, telling her to lean back but lie flat.
“Don’t crouch and quit kneeling, dammit.”
Soon as she did like I’d told her, I saw why she’d been working so hard not to. Soon as she lay back, soon as her dark billowy dress lay drenched against her front, I saw her belly for the first time. It reared up so round, I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen it before. She was good and pregnant. Five months by my best guess. My mouth dropped open as she lay there floating in my palm but she kept her eyes on the clouds. Wouldn’t look at me but she started
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