“What would your mother do if she wanted to go in the water?”
Lydia looked up at her. “I don’t know.” Her face grew serious and she gave Margaret a clear and direct look. “What would you do?”
Margaret dropped her parasol on a blanket in the sand. “I’m not going to take that from those two. I’m going in.” She picked up Annabelle and set her on her hip, then she looked at Lydia. “Are you coming?”
The girl looked at her brother, who was being his most obnoxious, prancing through the waves as if only men could swim.
“I’ll make certain you’re safe. Here...” Margaret set Annabelle on her small feet. “Take one of her hands.”
Lydia slid her hand over Annabelle’s plump one, then she looked at Margaret.
“Ready?” Margaret asked her.
Theodore was chanting again.
Lydia looked at him. A whisper of a smile lit her lips and she nodded.
A few minutes later the three of them were wading into the water, lifting Annabelle over the small waves that slapped against their skirts and sprayed foamy saltwater in their laughing faces.
23
Muddy was free. Finally. And flying. Purple smoke trailing behind, he soared in the blue sky above the beach, the cooler air washing over his beard and face. His vest flapped against his bare ribs and chest as he spiraled up in the air like smoke from one of Margaret’s meals.
He flew low over the beach where Theodore and Lydia were digging in the sand. They turned their bright faces skyward, pointing and laughing in that free way children had.
Muddy dove down and snatched Theodore’s cap right off his head, then watched him jump up and down, before he flew back for another low pass and dropped the hat in Lydia’s lap. She grinned and waved the cap.
He soared by again, then did a series of rolling somersaults in the air, the bells on the toes of his shoes tingling like wind chimes, and a second later he landed in the sand between the kids, his feet flat, his arms out, and a wide grin on his face. He’d always been a bit of a grandstander.
“Take me flying, Muddy! Please!” Theodore jumped up and down.
Hank stood nearby, his arms crossed like a palace guard. He drilled Muddy with a look of intimidation, then shook his head in disgust and walked into the water, diving under a wave. Muddy knew Hank still wouldn’t accept him, that he hadn’t acknowledged him as anything other than an annoyance.
Muddy stood between the two older children and held out his hands. “Come. I’ll take you both flying.”
“Me, too?” Lydia said in a voice that was almost a squeak.
“Do you want to come?”
“Leedee’s a sissy.”
“I am not,” Lydia said firmly and took a hold of his hand.
“Hold on tight,” Muddy warned, then he made one of the smoothest ascents he’d made in two thousand years.
A child holding each hand, he rode the wind, flew in smooth banked turns that cast lumbering dark shadows in the sand. Their hair flowing back and their cheeks fresh and rosy, they soared with Muddy as he flew over Margaret, who watched them with one hand shielding her eyes and one hand holding a makeshift parasol of banana leaves.
He flew over the tall coconut palms, ruffling the fronds, then swooped down toward the crystal sea where the bottom stared back at them. He buzzed in circles above Hank, just because Muddy had a little of the devil in him.
With an extra squeeze of their small hands, a tighter grip, and a wink, Muddy flew the children over a row of bumpy air drafts, then up... up... up... through a puffy and white cloud that cast its dew on their faces, making their cheeks sparkle when they were once again soaring in the bright sunshine.
Over the blue sea and across the wide Pacific sky he flew on an ancient gift of magic and, even better, on the smiles of two delighted and squealing children.
* * *
Margaret sat on the beach,a blanket wrapped around her like a burnoose. She twirled her makeshift parasol over her shoulder as if she were in an Easter parade.
She looked up and watched the children flying overhead. No one at home would believe it, she thought. Not even her dad, who thought her the most rational of people. She turned back and glanced at Annabelle, who was asleep on a blanket next to her, her pale skin shielded from the sun by a tent shade she’d made from one of the lifeboat tarps.
