“Not unless you’re planning on getting on a boat or going swimming,” Gibbes said, not exactly hiding his smile. “I think Maris and Owen just wanted to go look at the boats.”
I looked at the wide and hopeful eyes of the children, trying desperately to think of an excuse to say no. I wanted to tell them that I’d already paid my dues by riding across the bridge and getting in a boat, but that sounded inadequate even to me. Turning to Owen, I asked, “Is it okay with your mother?”
“She’s resting and I didn’t want to bother her.”
My usual annoyance that I felt when Loralee retreated to her room for a nap was nudged aside by worry. I remembered how tired she’d looked the previous night, and how she’d blamed her insomnia on her stuffy nose and itchy eyes due to allergies. Her explanations made sense, but when I thought of her streaming eyes, I couldn’t completely shake off a sliver of doubt.
“Yes, let’s let her sleep.” I thought desperately for another excuse. “Did you clean up your LEGOs?”
“Sort of,” Owen said. “Maris made a castle that looks like a horse stable with, like, one hundred horses that all have names and are owned by a princess. And I made a special cannon that can blow down the doors of the castle but not hurt any of the horses or people. It just blows doors off things.”
“So we left them out so we could play with them again later,” Maris completed, as if they were already an old married couple.
“There’s water at the marina there, right?”
Owen and Maris both tried to hide their giggles behind their hands. “Yes,” Owen explained. “The marina is where they keep the boats. In the water.”
“I know that,” I said. “What I meant is that I can’t swim, and I don’t think it’s a good idea if I’m the only adult with the two of you—”
Gibbes interrupted. “If you wait until I get all those boxes of newspapers loaded into my truck, I’ll go with you. I’m an excellent swimmer.” He grinned like he knew exactly what I was thinking.
“Yes, yes!” The children hopped up and down like jumping beans.
I looked at Gibbes, who just shrugged. “Looks like we’re going to the marina, then.”
We weren’t going in the water or on it—just near it. Surely I could do that. “All right. Let me go grab a hat and some sunscreen for me and the children. I’ll be right back.”
When I reached my room, I caught my reflection in the mirror over the dressing table and for the first time in a while I actually looked at myself long enough to admit that I didn’t like what I saw. The ill-fitting blouse and skirt were more than unflattering. They were the kinds of things invisible women wore. I’d worn these clothes and others just like them for years, throwing them on in the morning without thought. Even my own mother, who was as no-frills as mothers got, loved wearing the color blue and the way it made her eyes shine.
I leaned into the mirror, staring harder, remembering a favorite blue blouse I’d worn when I’d first met Cal, and again several times while we’d been dating. And how I didn’t remember when I’d stopped wearing it and had moved into the uniform of a woman who didn’t want to be noticed.
The flesh rose on the back of my neck as the air conditioner whirred on, making me shiver as I imagined Cal watching me stare at myself in the mirror. Never turn your back on a fire. It was almost as if the words had been whispered in my ear. But instead of Cal’s voice, it had been my own.
Quickly I unbuttoned my blouse and slipped out of the skirt, then pulled out the shorts and top I’d borrowed from Loralee that she’d apparently mistakenly returned to my room with my clean and folded laundry. I put them on, my only regret being that I had only my loafers for my feet.
I slathered on sunscreen, then grabbed my hat and the bottle of sunblock before heading downstairs. The recycling boxes had already been taken from the upstairs hallway, and I stopped to pick up a newspaper on the bottom step that must have fallen out.
I placed it on the hall table, planning on giving it to Gibbes, then followed the sound of Owen’s voice to the kitchen. Gibbes and the two children sat at the table, the Battleship game box open, and Gibbes was reading the directions.
He stopped reading, then watched as I put sunscreen on Maris’s face and arms and then Owen’s. “All right,” I said. “You guys ready?”
“You guys?” Maris’s freckled nose scrunched up.
Gibbes returned the directions to the box and stood. “That’s how our neighbors to the north say ‘y’all.’ Not as easy on the ears, but it gets the job done.”
“Really?” I said. “I’ll make many concessions to fit in, but I promise you that saying ‘y’all’ won’t be one of them.”
Gibbes pretended to look offended. “If I weren’t a gentleman, I’d place a wager on that.”