He grabbed at the overturned kayak and managed to get a grip. If it had been a canoe, I could have turned it over and got in. It’s not so easy with an overturned kayak. “Tread water for a minute,” I said, “and let me try to right the kayak.” Without saying anything, he let go, and I got under the gunwales and pushed, kicking as hard as I could, and to my relief the little play boat was light enough so that I could flip it over. The paddle was gone. “Do you think you can climb back in?” I asked.
“I doubt it. I’m not the athletic type. Do you want to try? Then maybe you can pull me in. I’ll hold on and try to keep it level for you.”
Even without the paddle, we’d be better off in the boat. Zachary’s stamina was not going to last long. But when I tried to pull myself up over the gunwales, Zachary lost his grip. “Zach! Hold on!”
He splashed back to the kayak, and grabbed at the side, almost overturning it again. This was not going to work. I looked around for the sailboats, but although I saw a couple, they weren’t in hailing distance, and they were too far off for anybody to notice us. We couldn’t stay in the water for several hours till Norine missed me and someone came to look for us.
Zachary realized this, too. “If I let go and dog-paddle again, do you think you can get in without my help?”
“I’ll try.” I didn’t say it would be easier without his ‘help.’ I was almost in the kayak when suddenly he grabbed at it and I lost my balance and slid back into the water. Fortunately, the boat did not overturn again. But the little boat was made for the quiet waters around the dock, within the boundaries of the ropes, not for the open sea. I didn’t think Zachary knew much about boats. Left to myself, I could have managed to clamber in without overturning it, but Zachary was in a silent panic, and whatever I did, he was going to undo by grasping at the sides, or letting go and risk being swept away by the undertow.
“I can’t see the hotel,” he said. I’d already told him that.
“Listen, Zach.” My voice was urgent. “Let me try once more to climb in. Tread water, but make sure you don’t drift away.”
“I’ll try.”
He let go and began to dog-paddle. I put one hand on either gunwale for balance and had almost heaved myself in when I heard him cry out. He had already drifted two lengths of the boat. I dropped back in the water, still holding the kayak with one hand, because it would be madness to lose it, and kicked as strongly as I could in his direction. “Zachary! Swim! Try to swim toward me!” The distance between us began to widen, and I could see that he was floundering, moving arms and legs aimlessly and futilely. I was going to have to let the kayak go in order to get him, and then what? We could never make it back to the kayak together; he simply didn’t swim well enough. And we certainly couldn’t even think of trying to make it to shore against the tide.
I wasn’t ready to die.
But I couldn’t save myself and let Zachary drown.
Why not? If I didn’t save myself, we’d both drown, and what good would that do?
“Polly—”
“Don’t thrash, Zachary,” I shouted. “I’m coming.” I let go of the kayak.
“Polly!”
I had one arm around Zachary and was kicking to keep afloat. He was pulling me down. I couldn’t go on holding both of us up for much longer.
“Polly!”
It wasn’t Zachary calling me. Zachary was an exhausted, dead weight.
“Polly!”
“Here!” I shouted. “Here, Omio, here!”
“Keep calling, so I don’t lose you.”
“Here! Here, Omio, here!”
And suddenly I saw a rowboat, a lovely, solid rowboat, with Omio at the oars. He saw us and pulled the boat to us with strong, sure strokes.
“Get Zachary in first,” I said.
Omio rested the oars, reached out one strong arm, then both, as he realized that Zachary could do little to help himself. Somehow or other, Omio pulling, me pushing, we managed to get him into the rowboat. Then Omio’s hands were stretched down to me, and with his help I heaved myself up, and flopped into the bottom of the boat, panting. “The kayak—” I whispered.
“Forget it,” Omio said fiercely. Then he turned to Zachary. He let out a long stream of invective in Bakian. If I had thought Bashemath’s anger could be terrifying, I was not prepared for Omio’s.
“I’ll pay for the kayak,” Zachary said.
“And could you have paid for Polly’s life? Do you know if I had been five minutes later you’d both have been dead? Would you have made everything right by paying for the funeral?” He was an avenging angel in his anger.
I was still gasping for breath. “How did you—how did you know?”
“I was worried. And Vee said she smelled danger, and told Frank, and he went with us to the hotel, and we were told you’d gone out in a kayak. But there weren’t any kayaks in the roped-in area. So Frank suggested I take the rowboat. He and Vee will be waiting for us.” He was rowing with strong, smooth strokes. Even so, it seemed a long time before we could see shore and the hotel. “Where did you think you were going?” Omio asked Zachary.
Some of Zachary’s confidence had returned, though his face was pallid. “I was thinking of emigrating to Syria with Polly. It was farther than I realized.”
“It is not funny.” Omio still sounded enraged.
“Oh, come on,” Zachary said. And then, with one of his lightning switches, “I was an arrogant fool, and I’m beyond apology.”
“I would not have any harm come to Polly,” Omio said.
Vee and Frank were waiting at the landing dock, their faces lighting in relief as they saw us.
Omio drew the rowboat skillfully up to the dock, and the attendant helped me out.
“Thank God you’re safe,” Vee said.
“What happened?” Frank asked.
Zachary spoke swiftly, before Omio could say anything. “I misjudged the tide and lost my bearings.”
Omio burst out, “And lost the kayak. Polly was holding him up in the open sea. They couldn’t have lasted much longer.”
I discovered that I was trembling. Frank put out a hand to steady me.
“We’ll take you home,” Omio said.
“Polly is having lunch with me,” Zachary said.
Omio leapt onto the dock. “Polly is not going anywhere with you.”
For a second I thought he and Zachary were going to get into a fight. Frank stepped between them, and I said, “I think I’m too tired to eat. I’m going to get my clothes on.” And I walked away from them, went to the cabana, and changed. I was still very shaky.
When I had my dress back on, sandals on my feet, I returned to the hotel, where they were sitting at one of the terrace tables, waiting. The three men rose as I approached. Zachary said, “Polly, please forgive me for having been such a monstrous fool.”
Frank stopped his apologies. “Polly’s exhausted, and we need to get her to bed.”
Zachary did not argue. “I’ll call you, Polly, if you’re willing to speak to me again. I’ll never be such a chauvinist idiot—”
“It’s okay, Zachary,” I said.
Frank borrowed Zachary’s rented car to drive us home, and I was grateful. I wasn’t at all sure my wobbly legs would have made it. Of course we’d missed lunch, but everybody was still in the refectory. Norine looked up in surprise.
“Omio and Frank will explain,” Vee said. “I want to get Polly to her room and into bed.”
Without saying anything, and somehow inconspicuous despite her great height, Bashemath fell into step beside us.
“There was a near-catastrophe,” Vee said. “Polly needs a hot bath and bed.”
“It won’t be a very hot bath,” Bashemath said.
“Even lukewarm would be heavenly.”
When we got to the room, the fan was whirring, so the power was back on. “Go along,” Vee said to me. “I’ll tell Bashemath what happened.”
The water was at least warm, and felt wonderful, and I lay back a
nd relaxed for a long time, almost dozing once or twice, till my twitching muscles let go their panic tightness. Then it occurred to me that Vee and Bashemath might be waiting, so I got out and dried myself and put on my nightgown.
Only Bashemath was in the room. “Vee’s gone to see about getting some hot soup for you.”
I sat, facing her dignified presence. “Omio saved my life.”
“And Vee and Frank. It was Vee who had the knowing that there was something wrong, and Frank who had the wisdom to take her seriously.”
“How did Vee know?”
“Vee is a poet. Sometimes poets still have the ancient knowings.”
I was grateful to Vee, to Frank. “But, Bashemath,” I said, “it was Omio who came with the boat and got us out of the water. I was tiring—we were almost drowning—I couldn’t have held on much longer.”
“But you had left the little boat and were holding up this strange young man—”
“What else could I do?”
“What else?” She turned to answer a knock. Norine came in, carrying a kettle of something which smelled delicious. Millie followed with bowls, and Frank with spoons. Omio and Vee came in together. Norine set the kettle down on the empty desk.
“Get into bed, Polly. We will spoil you this afternoon, okeydokey? You and your rescuers will have some of this good soup Tullia has prepared, and then you will sleep. Someone will bring you tea, and you can come to the afternoon meeting, okeydokey?”
“Very okeydokey,” I said. Every bone and muscle ached, but I was so full of the love of these people I had not even met a few days ago that it didn’t matter. Norine ladled out a rich soup full of vegetables and fish, and Vee and Frank and Omio and I ate. I was ravenously hungry. Back at the hotel, I had thought I would never want to eat again.
Norine noticed Zachary’s flowers, which were drooping despite my ministrations. “These are completely wilted. Do you want me to throw them out for you?”
It seemed like throwing Zachary out, but Norine didn’t know that, and it didn’t make much sense to keep dead flowers, so I told her to go ahead.
When we’d finished eating, everybody stood up to leave, except Millie, who came and sat by me. “I will give Polly a back rub. She will sleep better. Roll over, little one.” I hardly heard the others leave. Millie’s hands were strong yet tender, and she seemed to know which muscles I had strained.
When I was half asleep, Millie drew the sheet up over me, and then started to sing, not Saranam, or any of the songs she’d sung to the group with her miraculous voice, but a song with an odd, minor melody, and words I didn’t understand but which weren’t unlike Gaean.
And I realized that she was singing to me as her baby, that for this moment I was Millie’s baby—perhaps one of the children she had lost—and I was lapped in her love.
When I woke up she was gone, and my muscles were no longer tense, but the scar on my foot was pulling painfully. Why?
Renny had come to look at my foot again on Sunday. He called on Monday after school, though he didn’t come over because I said my foot was fine, and he called again on Tuesday. When Xan yelled to me on Wednesday, ‘Hey, Pol, telephone, I think it’s Renny again,’ I said, ‘Look, if you keep calling they’ll know something’s wrong.’
‘Something is wrong.’
‘Okay, but I don’t want them worried.’
‘Aren’t they?’
‘I guess, but they don’t know what about, and I don’t want them to know.’
It was that evening Sandy called from Washington and said it just happened that he had to go down to Cape Canaveral to see someone and he’d drop off at Benne Seed on the way if we’d meet his plane in Charleston on Friday. This is the kind of thing Sandy does, so nobody thought anything about it. We were accustomed to having him or Rhea drop in on us from all kinds of places.
But when we were alone together, which wasn’t until Saturday afternoon, he said, ‘I need some exercise. Let’s go walk on the beach.’
We took our sandals off and splashed along the water’s edge. He said, ‘Max called me.’
‘Max?’ I, too, had simply taken Sandy’s coming for granted.
‘She told me to come, because you needed me.’
We had splashed a little farther into the water, and an unexpected wave wet Sandy’s rolled-up pants, so we turned toward the dunes. Finally I asked, ‘Why did she say that?’
‘She told me what happened. Do you want to talk about it?’
I was not prepared to have Sandy know. I was not prepared for him to have come to Benne Seed because Max had called him. ‘You won’t say anything to Mother or Daddy?’
‘You haven’t said anything?’
‘No.’
‘Are you going to?’
‘No.’
‘Are you trying to protect them?’
I didn’t know who I was trying to protect.
‘Polly, you’ve had a lot of responsibility, helping your mother with the little ones, helping your father in the lab, doing all kinds of jobs most kids your age haven’t had to do. You’re very mature for your age in many ways—’
‘And very immature in others,’ I finished for him. ‘Please, Sandy, I don’t want you to say anything to Mother and Daddy.’
He looked at me for a long time. At last I let my eyes drop. ‘All right.’ He turned toward a large sand dune, climbed partly up it, and sat down in a tangle of scuppernong grapevines. ‘I think I’d just as soon not say anything to them about it myself. The problem is, Polly, you made Max into a god.’
‘I know that.’
‘Can’t you let her be a little human?’
I didn’t answer.
‘Are you being fair to Max?’
Sandy, like Ursula, was considering Max and not me. ‘Was Max being fair to me?’
‘No. But two wrongs never make a right.’
‘What am I doing wrong?’ Did he somehow know about Renny?
But he said, ‘It’s not what you’re doing wrong. It’s what you’re not doing. Max wants to talk to you.’
I shook my head and looked into the vines as though looking for the dark fruit of the scuppernongs.
‘Polly.’ He waited till I looked at him. ‘Max is dying.’
I nodded, again dropping my glance.
‘Perhaps you’re too young,’ he said, as though to himself. ‘Too overwhelmed. You need time. But I’m not sure there’s enough time.’ I did not answer. He slid down from the dune, and I followed him back to the water’s edge. ‘Your mother is inviting Max and Ursula to dinner tonight. It’s the natural thing to do, since we’ve been friends for years and I haven’t been here since Christmas.’
‘I don’t want them to come.’
‘I understand that. And I don’t know whether or not they will come.’
I got up and headed for the house. I could not see Max. I could not. I’d have to get out of it somehow.
But when I got home Mother was on the phone. It was Urs saying Max wasn’t feeling well. Sandy took the Land-Rover and went over to Beau Allaire. Renny called to ask me to go out for pizza. He was able to borrow a boat, so we went, as usual, to Petros’, and sat in our usual booth. Max was between us. What had happened on Nell’s green sleeping porch was between us.
‘Polly, I don’t want you to get the idea that making love is a casual, one-time thing.’
‘It wasn’t casual, it was wonderful.’
He put his hand over mine. ‘I’m glad it was wonderful. For me, too. If my parents knew what happened between us, they’d think I should ask you to marry me, but that wouldn’t be a good idea. I have a lot more studying to do, and so do you. You’re much too young. But, Polly, please don’t let—’
I stopped him. ‘Renny, don’t worry about me. I’m not going to make a habit of throwing myself at guys. How often do I have to tell you? Please get off your guilt trip.’
Our pizza was put before us, steaming and bubbly with cheese and anchovies and peppers. ‘Renny the Square. That’s
me. But the Reniers believe that there is right and wrong, and a world without restraints is going down the drain.’
‘Hey, Renny, I do have restraints.’
‘What?’
‘My family. My parents. And’—my voice was very low—‘Max.’
‘Max!’
‘Max acted without restraints.’
‘Okay,’ Renny said. ‘I’m glad you see it that way.’
I didn’t know whether to hit or hug him. ‘Maybe I acted without restraints with you, but I still thank you.’
He cut the pizza and put a slice on my plate. ‘Oh, Polly, I don’t know what to say.’
‘Don’t say anything. And don’t let it spoil our being good friends.’
But everything was changed. He couldn’t even talk about his pet South American diseases without our both thinking of Max.
‘When you get back from Cyprus,’ he said, ‘you’ll have had a million new experiences, and you’ll have been separated by all that space and time—’
‘I’ll write you postcards,’ I said.
In the boat on the way back to the Island he cut the motor as usual and bent to kiss me, then stopped.
‘Why?’ I asked.
He held me so tightly that it hurt. ‘Not tonight, Pol. I’m not sure I could hold back.’
And he was right, Renny was right. He had wakened my body.
And Omio had saved that wakened body. I had been attracted to Omio from the very first evening. But now it was more, much more.
I lay there, half awake, thinking about Omio, when he knocked on my door and came in with a glass of iced tea.
I sat up. “Oh, Omio, thank you, thank you.”
“It’s only cold tea,” he said.
“Not the tea. Me. My life. If it hadn’t been for you, I’d be in a watery grave. I nearly was.”
He put my glass down on the table between the beds and took my hands. “It was Frank, and Vee, as much as I, who saved you, Polly, but it has made you—lo, a part of me, a part of my own life.”
“I’ll always be grateful.”
He was fierce. “I do not need gratitude. I do not want it. This is not our way.” He smiled. “But we are friends forever in the mind of God, so I have brought you something.” And he handed me the painting of the Laughing Christ from his notebook.
A House Like a Lotus Page 25
