She watched him curiously, then turned back to Cal, who nodded faintly. The girl looked back at Apollo, still a skeptic.
“Can I help you with the scooter?” he asked.
She looked at the unwieldy scooter, then back to him. He raised his two empty hands. With one he grabbed the handlebar of the scooter and lifted it. Instantly the girl turned from him and Cal, set one foot on the scooter, and with a kick she was off. They watched her go. She made it five feet, wobbling.
The three-year-old finally lost her footing. She flipped the scooter and flopped onto her side. It didn’t look like a bad fall, and in fact, the kid just lay there on her back looking up at the morning sky as if she’d finished with riding and moved on to the leisure hour.
“Let’s go get her,” Cal said.
When they got there, a small hand grasped two of Apollo’s fingers and tugged him. He helped her up.
“This is Gayl,” Cal said.
The little girl had tired of the scooter, and now she took a step toward the library. The power of her grip told Apollo his company was required.
“I think you made a friend.”
“Can I speak to Gretta?” Apollo asked.
Cal narrowed her eyes, crossed her arms. “What for?”
“You said William killed his daughter.”
“He did.”
Gayl took two more steps. Apollo was about to be dragged.
“Every woman here did something similar,” Apollo said. “So why hold him to a different standard?”
“No. Not similar. That’s wrong. What Wheeler did was evil.”
“I want to hear it from her.”
“You do, do you? Give a man a little breakfast, and suddenly he’s giving orders.”
“It’s a request,” Apollo said as Gayl pulled at him once more. He took three steps. “Please, Cal.”
“We don’t travel back and forth on the river during the day,” Cal said. “Gretta will get here tonight. We’ll put on the puppet show after dinner. If she’ll talk with you, that’ll be the time. For now, you take care of Gayl.”
Off Apollo and Gayl went. Cal watched them quietly until one woman came close with urgent business.
APOLLO JOINED THE rhythm of the island. He moved from one job to the next—attending to kids or cleaning up after them—and all that time Gayl remained with him. Was he helping her or the other way around? Many of the women asked the question, playfully, and Apollo didn’t mind. He met Gayl’s mother. She had a five-year-old boy as well and seemed only relieved to have Apollo’s help. He fed Gayl lunch, read to her from Outside Over There, and brought her back to her mother when she had to use the potty. Apollo felt the old push-pull return, the confidence in doing something that felt natural and necessary, the fear that he was doing it wrong, putting this vulnerable life at risk. The anxiety was even worse here on an island of women who could kill him. Together Apollo and Gayl folded laundry, Apollo doing the work and Gayl undoing it all earnestly, then peeking up at him begging to be caught. When he feigned his anger, she giggled so hard, she cried. At times Apollo heard someone else’s laughter, too. It was his.
BY SIX O’CLOCK dinner was served. Sippy cups to fill, spills to clean. The children were fed together in the Doctor’s Cottage. Two of the women played music—guitar and a small drum—and the children sang along. They’d been taught “Diamonds and Rust,” and “Umi Says,” among others. The younger children were put to bed before the puppet show, but when it was time for Gayl to go, she refused. She wanted to stay up with Apollo. He pleaded to let the girl stay with him awhile longer. Gayl’s mother had to laugh, but Apollo saw something else in the mother’s eyes, the reflexive suspicion about a strange man wanting to spend time with her daughter. He couldn’t blame her for that concern. The caution was a sign that Gayl’s mother was a good parent.
But Cal indicated that this man could be trusted and the endorsement carried weight. Also, the mother’s five-year-old decided to have a full-blown meltdown right then, out in the courtyard, so it was a relief to leave Gayl with Apollo for a little longer.
Take care of her for me. That’s what Gayl’s mother said before she pulled her son inside the Nurses’ Residence. Cal called the kids to the library for the show. Apollo tucked the book into the back of his pants, and Gayl rode on his shoulders. She looked down at the older children and shouted, “I’m tall!”
Cal and Apollo stood at the back of the library as the kids bopped from one wall to another, indiscriminately pulled books from the shelves, and pushed or elbowed each other, a few explosions before settling down. Apollo tried to set Gayl on the floor among them, but she mewled in his arms, so he held on to her.
“She didn’t eat much at dinner,” Cal said. “I bet she’s hungry.”
Then Gretta Wheeler arrived, escorted by a guard.
Every grown woman in the room stiffened and turned toward her as if they were needles being drawn toward magnetic north. Apollo turned to face her only once he realized the women had grown quiet. The children continued to burble and play. Gretta came to Cal. She ignored Apollo. She gave off an anxious crackle, or was that only because of how Cal stared at her?
Gretta Wheeler’s hair was pulled back severely, and she was thin in a way that suggested malnourishment. Apollo remembered the woman in the basement of Holyrood looking much the same way and even Emma had been winnowed down like this. Each had become a body nearly drained of its life essence, victim of a vampire.
“I’m sorry I had to call for you,” Cal said. Normally so quick to touch others, Cal left her arms at her side. Even Cal seemed to fear Gretta, or maybe she just feared for Gretta. “Where’s Grace?”
“She’s with my parents. William is here? He showed up? Just like that?”
The young woman whom Apollo had seen through the windows earlier—their teacher?—clapped her hands for the kids’ attention. She gestured for the boys and girls to gather for circle time.
“He came with me,” Apollo said.
As soon as Gretta Wheeler turned, he regretted saying it. She raised her hands, fingers tensed, as if she might claw out his eyes.
“You’re with him?” she asked.
If he hadn’t been holding the girl, Apollo thought Gretta would’ve devoured him.
“Of course not,” Cal said quietly. “We wouldn’t have him out with us if that was the case.”
“I’m Emma’s,” Apollo said. “Emma Valentine’s husband.” He surprised himself, trembled at the words. It was the first time in four months that he’d allied himself to Emma in any way.
I’m Emma’s.
Gretta watched Apollo blankly, as if he’d spoken to her in ancient Phoenician. She had no idea who Emma was or who he was; she’d been too busy living at the center of her own horrific story to concern herself with his.
Gretta’s hands fell to her sides. She waved at Apollo softly, a kind of apology. Cal brought her arm around her but didn’t pull her too tight. Gretta accepted the touch but didn’t lean in to the embrace.
“I keep thinking I’ll be done with him,” Gretta said. “But he always finds his way back into my life.”