Gibbes was silent, making me believe that I’d finally succeeded in pushing him away. I tried to console myself, to tell myself that that was what I wanted, but all I could feel was a heavy dread that felt oddly like disappointment.
He didn’t look at me when he spoke, and although his words were soft, his hands gripped the steering wheel with whitened knuckles. “Courage isn’t about the absence of fear. Courage is doing the one thing you think you cannot do. Swimming away from your mother took more courage than most people have.” He stretched his fingers, encouraging the blood to flow through them again. “I think I’ve told you this before, Merritt: You’re a lot braver than you think you are. And you’re a survivor. Never forget that.”
My spine seemed to soften against the leather seat, the breath I’d held escaping through my opened mouth as if I were expelling demons. It was like being crippled for years and then being told I could run.
“Go fish!” Maris shouted from the backseat, reminding me of where I was and where we were heading.
Facing him, I asked, “Are you telling me this because I’m about to get in a boat again?” I thought he would smile but was surprised when he didn’t.
“In part,” he said. “But I imagine there are lots of times in life when you’ll need to remember that.”
There was something in the way he said it, something in the way he measured his words like doling out cough syrup, that made me believe that he wasn’t talking about the boat.
When we reached the house, the children retrieved their bags full of sand toys and towels, and two small beach chairs from Maris’s mother, then raced each other to the dock despite Gibbes’s reminder to keep Owen’s weight off his ankle. Owen responded by hobbling as fast as he could.
I felt lighter somehow, as if something I’d been carrying around for a long time had been jettisoned. I took off Loralee’s sandals and allowed myself to feel the soft soil beneath my bare feet, unable to remember the last time I’d been outside without shoes.
I helped Gibbes carry everything to the boat, but allowed him to load it all. I’d put on my life jacket and insisted the children put on theirs, too, but Gibbes waited until he’d gone inside and changed, which made me nervous every time he stepped onto the boat before he did.
He caught me frowning and grinned. “Are you worried that I’ll get hurt?”
I frowned back at him. “I’m worried that if you get hurt I’m going to have to drive us back across the bridge.”
Gibbes straightened, his eyes serious. “I wouldn’t make you do that. Not until you’re ready.”
Not until you’re ready. His words meant that he believed it possible, that I would someday be able to drive across the bridge by myself. Because he thought I was brave.
“When alligator eggs are laid, they’re not already boys or girls,” Owen announced. “It depends on where the nest is. If it’s warm, the eggs become boys, and if it’s colder, they’re girls.”
“Why are you talking about alligators?” I asked, glancing around nervously.
“Because they’re all over the place,” Maris announced matter-of-factly.
I took a step off the dock and looked at Gibbes, hoping he’d reassure me that they were joking. Instead he said, “They won’t bother you if you don’t bother them.”
“Yeah,” I said through gritted teeth. “I think you’ve mentioned that.”
“They’re not aggressive like crocodiles,” Owen explained. “These are just alligators. I hope we get to see one.” He bounced on his toes with excitement, just like our father used to do.
A loud splash caught our attention about thirty feet from the dock, and I reached a hand out toward Owen and Maris, getting ready to pull them away from danger.
“It’s a dolphin!” Owen shouted, pointing at where large ripples of water were pulsing toward us, the dock gently bobbing under our feet.
A gray fin appeared above the surface of the water, nearer now and close enough that I could see the sleek texture of the animal’s skin, the sun reflecting off the arched back as it dived under the dark water. We watched in silence for a full minute, our patience rewarded as it rose above the water again, its large almond-shaped eyes seeming to be full of human emotions, its long mouth with tiny, sharp teeth curved upward like a smile. It jumped in an arc, showing off its loveliness, then dived beneath the water one last time before disappearing.
“Did you see it, Merritt? Did you see it?” Owen spoke in his church voice, hushed and reverent.