“That was four days ago. I changed my mind.”
Theodore was chewing on his lip.
Hank gave him a hard look meant to make the kid squirm. “What did you use on the goat?”
“Scissors.”
Hank set the kid down and held out his hand. “Hand ’em over.”
For a kid who could shear a goat in a couple of hours, he moved about as quickly as time moved in a prison cell. He dug into his pockets, took out shells and rocks and pieces of colored glass, then dug through the other pocket and pulled out a wad of string, a broken piece of a sand dollar, two more rocks, a piece of a crab shell, and some funny-looking little scissors with handles shaped like hummingbirds.
Hank frowned down at the kid. “Where’d you get those?”
Theodore stared at his bare toes. “Leedee found them in the sewing basket.”
“Go give them back and apologize to your sister.” He shuffled over to Lydia, who was sniffling. “Sorry, Leedee.” He stuck out the scissors. “Here.” She took them and buried her head in the goat’s bald neck.
“Now go sit!” Hank pointed to a corner. “There! And don’t even think about moving until I say you can. Got it?”
Head down, feet dragging as if made of lead, Theodore trudged to the corner and plopped down.
When the sun broke through on the fourth morning Hank had a new understanding of kids—the clear understanding that he didn’t know a damn thing about ’em.
* * *
A coupleof days laterMargaret sat on the beach, using a bamboo and banana leaf parasol, protection against the intense rays of the sun. Lydia and Annabelle were playing with the sand crabs a few feet away. Annabelle chased them, giggling when Lydia placed one in her cupped hands.
A childish war whoop fractured the peace, and a second later Theodore came tearing across the sand. For an hour or two each day, Hank had been teaching him to swim in the freshwater pool near the waterfall. Theodore ran past her wearing a pair of men’s drawers they’d found in one of the trunks. They were sizes too big, knotted at the back of the waist and the legs stopped midcalf. But he didn’t care. His arms churned as he ran into the water, splashing everyone within a few feet.
Hank came walking over the dune in that loose-hipped stride he had. He’d cut the legs off his prison pants for swimming. His chest was bare. He walked past her and stopped, watching Theodore in the water. His back was crossed with scar stripes that were dark purple and welted.
She covered her mouth with a hand and closed her eyes for a moment. The whip marks Theodore had seen. She knew she had to keep the reaction from her face. Hank’s pride wouldn’t take pity from her or anyone else.
“Hank! I won!”
“You cheated, kid!”
“Come on in!” Theodore called just as a wave hit him in the back and almost knocked him down. He laughed.
Hank ran right past the girls and dove under a wave, surfacing on the other side, his black hair sleek as a seal and his body, scars and all, shimmering in the sun and sea.
She felt as if the breeze had suddenly stopped as she sat there, watching him teach Theodore how to ride a wave. For reasons she didn’t care to analyze, she was unable to look away. She watched them laughing and racing, each trying to outride the other by selecting the wave that would push him farther up the sand.
She shook her head after a minute of silly ogling, and she turned to say something to Lydia. There was a look of quiet longing on the girl’s face while she watched her brother and Hank laugh and ride the foamy crest of the waves.
Margaret stood and casually walked over to Lydia. “Would you like to go in the water?”
“I can’t swim,” she said, not looking at Margaret.
“You can still wade if you’re careful.”
She looked down at her dress and shook her head. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Look at those sissy girls!” Theodore called out. “Can’t swim! Can’t swim! Too bad you’re not a him!”He made a face at them and stuck his thumbs in his ears and wiggled his hands. Hank stood there, his muscular arms crossed. He laughed with Theodore.
Lydia looked at Margaret. She could see the girl wanted to go in.
