Crossing Oceans

by Gina Holmes

  Isabella wiggled in my father’s arms, wanting to be let down. When he lowered her, she ran to Craig. “Can we go now?”

  I gave him a questioning look. “Go where?”

  “Swimming.”

  “Why don’t we let your mommy get some breakfast first,” my dad said.

  These days, nothing held less appeal for me than the thought of eating. On those rare occasions when I did have an appetite, it was usually accompanied by nausea. “Forget breakfast. Let’s swim.”

  Deep lines of concern creased my father’s forehead as his gaze traveled down me. “Jenny, you’re getting way too thin.”

  My stomach sank. I was thin, but not terribly so. If my size-five frame worried him now, how much more would my size two, six months from now. “I’m okay, Dad.” Maybe after church I’d swing by the supermarket and pick up some Ensure. If I was going to feel sick every time I put something down my throat, I might as well get the most nourishment and calories for my buck.

  “Are you turning anorexic?”

  Shock and embarrassment stole my words. I couldn’t believe he just blurted that out in front of Craig and my daughter. I was thin, had always been thin, and yes, in the last few months my lack of appetite had cost me another ten pounds, but I was hardly a skeleton.

  “I’m fine,” I said coldly. “C’mon, Bells, let’s get ready for church. We’ll swim this afternoon. Promise.”

  * * *

  Isabella in a polka-dot one-piece and I in a less flamboyant solid black stood side by side on the patio, looking out at the most beautiful piece of real estate to be had in Duncan County.

  Centuries-old pine, oak, and sycamore trees framed Lucas Lake on three sides, with the fourth being cleared to serve as our downward-sloped backyard. A fifteen-foot dock parted the water. Tied to one of its posts bobbed a weathered canoe.

  The streams of sunlight cascading over the rippling water brought to mind golden scarves fluttering in a breeze. In the distance, hazy blue mountain ridges stretched along the horizon.

  When I was younger, my father and I had argued about whether the body of water in our backyard was really a pond or a lake. We never did come to a solid conclusion, which resulted in our referring to it alternately as Lucas Lake and “the pond out back.”

  I inhaled a lungful of the fresh valley air, while Isabella wiggled her pink toenails and bit her bottom lip. Her eyes were wide with anticipation. “We’re going to swim in that giant pool?”

  “That’s a lake.”

  Without another word, she took off running. Her beach towel, which had been draped over her shoulder, hit the ground as her curls bounced against bronzed shoulders. I threw mine on top of hers and raced after her. Two summers of swimming lessons had made her fearless but had just the opposite effect on me.

  Before I could reach her, she splashed into the water, getting only to her shins. I tried to call out, but her name stuck in my throat. She shrieked, turned toward me with alarm, then ran back out.

  I hurried to her, heart thumping. “What’s wrong?”

  She looked on the verge of tears. “Something icky’s in the pool.”

  “Did something touch you?”

  She pointed down. “On the bottom. It’s all yucky, like melted ice cream.”

  I relaxed. Rocky Road, no doubt. “Honey, this isn’t a pool; it’s a lake. It has a mud bottom, and fish and other creatures live in here.”

  Her cold, wet arms became a tourniquet around my leg. She looked at the water as if she’d just learned it was the home of the Loch Ness Monster.

  “It’s okay. Everything in there is harmless. They’re God’s creatures.” Her grip became tighter. “It’s just like swimming in a giant aquarium.” I rubbed her back, wishing I could always be there to comfort her this way.

  Her chest rose and fell in rapid succession, and I knew tears were soon to follow.

  I looked over at the porch, where Mama Peg and my father were rocking. The screen door squealed open, and Craig stepped out wearing a pair of aqua swim trunks. I tried to keep my eyes off the muscles in his shoulders and the hair on his chest. Wow, he had changed.

  “Hey, ladies, watch this!”

  Isabella jerked her head up as Craig ran full speed down the yard. He grabbed the rope hanging from the thick oak branch stretching over the lake, swung Tarzan-style over the water, and let go.

  A loud splash filled the air and a swell rose where he’d gone under.

  Isabella’s mouth dropped open. “Did you see that?” she asked without taking her eyes off the ripples.

  Craig’s head pushed through the water, his hair pasted against his skull like a blond swim cap. Trickles ran down his grinning face. “Try it, Bella. I’ll catch you.”

  “She’s scared—,” I started to say, but Isabella took off running. When she reached the rope, she stopped and grabbed the end of it, slowly walking it back as far as she could. Clutching tight, she made a run for it, swinging herself out toward Craig.

  “Bells, don’t!” I yelled, but it was already too late. She was airborne.

  “Catch me!” she screamed, absolutely fearless, utterly delighted.

  Her legs kicked in the air as though she were pedaling an imaginary bike, and Craig lifted his arms for her. I held my breath, unsure whether to scream or laugh.

  I glanced back at Mama Peg and my father, who had both stopped rocking and watched, their faces lit as they shared her pleasure. Suddenly their grins died and dread filled me. When my father bolted up, I knew something was wrong. I spun around and saw neither Craig nor Isabella. A plea formed on my lips. “Dad?”

  As I stood frozen, my father tore past me. Before I pulled together the horror of what had happened, he dove in. When I saw Craig come up for air without my daughter, blood trickling from his nose, panic flooded me with adrenaline. I raced across the pier. As terrified as I was, I still had the clarity of thought to realize I stood a better chance of spotting her from land.

  Why hadn’t I stopped her? What was I thinking? As the ripples began to smooth on the surface, I nearly lost my mind.

  Both my father and Craig surfaced . . . again without my daughter.

  My heart stopped, and the only sound I could hear was my own labored and quick breaths. “Bella!” I scanned the water but saw only waves caused by Craig and my father flailing around searching for her.

  “Jesus. Oh, Jesus, help.” Mama Peg’s frantic prayers rent from her throat on a wail, echoing my soul’s plea. I didn’t turn to look for fear that if I turned away, I would miss her. If I turned away, I might never see her again.

  The lake, serene just moments ago, was suddenly ominous—dark and deep. Seconds felt like hours. My soul screamed, My baby is drowning! Everything seemed to happen in slow motion except, of course, the passing of time. Each second that flew by meant one more breath Isabella should have taken but hadn’t.

  With wide eyes, I moved my head back and forth looking for a shadow of her just under the surface, a few air bubbles . . . anything. If she were anywhere near the top, I’d be able to see a flash of her colorful suit, but I didn’t. I couldn’t just stand there dry and safe on the pier as my daughter’s lungs filled with water.

  Something brown moved across the water, making me think I had caught a glimpse of her hair, but it was just a twig. My nails dug into my palms as I stood, helpless, searching for her. Craig yelled something, but I couldn’t discern his words. Animal instinct took over and I dropped to my knees, screaming her name. What was I thinking, letting her . . . ?

  Irrational or not, I had to do something. I crawled to the edge of the pier and dove in. As fast as my arms would fly, I swam to the center of the lake and dove beneath the surface. The shock of the cold water only added to my panic. Though I kept my eyes open, I saw nothing but murky brown. Frantically, I combed the water for her with my fingers. When I grasped something about the size of a small arm, I clung to it with all I had and shot to the surface.

  I burst through the water and sucked in a breat
h as the sun hit my eyes. I looked at the arm I’d grasped and nearly fainted when I saw it was nothing but a tree limb. I was about to duck below the surface again when my father emerged holding a heap of something I couldn’t make out. I hastily swiped the water from my eyes.

  It was a small body. Isabella!

  I held my breath as I searched her pale face for signs of life. Her eyes didn’t open and I feared the worst . . . until I heard her cry.

  For the second time in my life, it was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard.

  Chapter Ten

  Isabella hugged my neck as though clinging to a buoy. I enveloped her inside the beach towel draped over my shoulders. Her legs lay limp atop mine, her cheekbone pressed hard against my beating heart. She felt cold and damp against me, but still I couldn’t hold her close enough. Her tears had finally dried and other than being shaken, she seemed no worse for wear. I, on the other hand, would never be the same.

  Craig sat on the top stair, looking out at the lake with a balled washcloth pressed against his nose. Several times his solemn gaze moved from the rope Isabella had swung from to the spot they’d gone under. When he finally turned to face us, Isabella clenched her eyes and turned away.

  “Bella, honey, I’m so sorry.” It was at least the tenth time he’d apologized.

  She buried her face in my sternum. I thanked God for her warm breath against my skin.

  Her muffled voice vibrated against me. “You said you’d catch me.”

  She was speaking to him now at least, but his expression only darkened as he wiped fresh blood from his face. “I meant to. It’s just—your foot nailed me.”

  “I tried to swim, but you hit me,” she whispered.

  He looked at me, not a man, but a vulnerable little boy. I found myself wanting to make room for him on my lap. To cocoon him beside Isabella, inside my beach towel wings. To hold him as he’d held me in the basement.

  I kissed Isabella’s forehead. “You know he didn’t mean it. When your foot hit him, it hurt. His body just reacted to that.”

  He stared at the back of her head. I felt his pangs of contrition as if they were my own. “Craig, we all know it wasn’t your fault. She’ll—”

  “It was so his fault,” my dad said as he pushed open the screen door, grasping a sweating can of RC. “And by hook or crook, he’ll pay for it too.”

  Isabella looked up. With Mama Peg sitting to our right, Dad took the rocker to the left of us. “I saw the whole thing from here. You told him very plainly to catch you and he very plainly did not.”

  Isabella’s bottom lip pooched out as she nodded.

  Mama Peg, who I thought had fallen asleep, lifted her head and started rocking again. “Not only that, but he bit you.”

  Isabella’s eyes bulged. “He bit me?”

  “I saw that too.” Dad nodded.

  Craig wrinkled his face in confusion.

  I winked at him. “Bit your nose right off!”

  She touched her face. “But it’s still there.”

  “That’s only because you had the good sense to grab it from him and stick it back on.”

  “I did?”

  “At first you put it on your forehead.” I scrunched my nose up. “It looked really weird there, but then you fixed it.” I wanted to smile but kept a serious expression. “When you tried to swim to shore, do you know what he did? He waited until your little fingertips touched grass, then snatched you by the leg and flung you back to the middle of the lake.”

  “Don’t forget the laugh,” my dad added.

  I nodded in his direction. “Oh yes, he laughed all the while.”

  Mama Peg shook her head at poor Craig in feigned disgust. “A maniacal laugh. The most horrible cackle I’ve ever heard. It made my ears bleed.”

  Isabella turned and gave Craig the evil eye.

  He didn’t know our game or its purpose but was wise enough to keep quiet.

  Mama Peg continued to rock, the maple runners tapping her oxygen tank with each pass. “Then a friendly sea turtle came and tried to give you a ride on its back, but that rapscallion smacked him right out of the water.”

  Isabella shook her head. “You shouldn’t hurt animals, Craig.”

  “No,” he said soberly, “I shouldn’t.”

  Her gaze lingered on him a moment; then she turned to my father. “And a whale asked if she could help me, but Craig poked her eyes right out!”

  Craig grimaced. “I guess I’m a pretty mean guy.”

  “Very mean,” she agreed.

  “What else did I do?”

  She tucked her lips in as she considered it. “Then a one-legged man with a three-legged dog tried to help me, but you threw them in too.”

  Craig quirked an eyebrow at her. “A one-legged man with a three-legged dog?”

  Isabella crawled off my lap and sat next to him. He snuck a half smile over his shoulder at me.

  “And then Cowpa reached in to save us both and you threw her in the pool too.”

  Craig shook his head in a show of mock dismay at his own horrid behavior. “Her oxygen tank made her sink right to the bottom, but I just laughed and laughed.”

  Isabella leaned into his shoulder. “Just like a creepy supervillain.”

  Mama Peg winked at me, while my father grinned at the lake.

  Craig squeezed Isabella’s shoulder. “You know, I really didn’t mean it, Bella.”

  “I know,” she said.

  “Will you forgive me?”

  She said nothing, or if she did, I didn’t hear it. She kissed his elbow. “I’m never going swimming again.”

  Craig tapped his fingertips together diabolically. “Then my ee-veel plan has worked.”

  We all sat silent for a long time gazing out at the lake that had tried to steal my daughter. The liquid surface mirrored the now-menacing sky. Clouds appeared to float atop the water until ripples scattered them, sending rings lapping at the shoreline. I hadn’t realized Isabella had fallen asleep on Craig’s arm until he picked her up, cradling her like an infant. I stood and held the door open for them.

  “I’m going to lay her down.” Isabella’s arm dangled from his.

  I kissed her head as they passed by and thanked him.

  Mama Peg stood and grabbed her tank’s handle. “It’s about time for my nap too, if no one needs anything.” She laid her hand on my father’s shoulder. “Are you okay, Jack?”

  He looked up at her. “As well as I can be after almost losing the granddaughter I just learned I had.”

  She gave his shoulder a pat and followed Craig inside.

  When the door banged shut, I wondered if my dad would excuse himself too. But he turned to me. “I didn’t realize how much I loved that little girl until we almost lost her.”

  It occurred to me then. Now was the time to tell him about my diagnosis. It would be inexcusable later when he recalled this conversation and remembered that I’d remained silent. Besides, I knew that once I had, my burden would lighten considerably, and concrete plans could be made for Isabella’s future. I stopped rocking and picked at my nails. “Daddy?”

  “Jenny?” His tone was light and playful.

  My insides liquefied. “I have something to tell you.”

  “You’re not pregnant again, are you?”

  “Very funny.”

  “Not really.”

  “No, not really,” I agreed.

  “What is it?”

  “We’ve been through a lot.”

  He watched the lake instead of me. “We sure have.”

  “I’m sorry for leaving home the way I did.”

  “I’m sorry you felt you had to. I thought I’d done better than that.”

  “You did fine.”

  “You never could lie to save your life.”

  I breathed in the moist air. “Okay, maybe you could’ve done a little better.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  A spine of steel was what I needed, but mine felt more like aluminum foil. How could I
tell a man who’d already lost his wife that he was now about to lose his only child as well? It was just too cruel.

  “If I had it all to do over again, Jenny, I’d have been the kind of father you could say anything to.”

  The words shot from my mouth like a bullet aimed at his heart. “I’m dying.”

  His expression hardened and his lips disappeared into a thin line. It was almost as though he’d been expecting this moment to come. “What do you have?”

  “Cancer, Daddy.”

  He closed his eyes. “The same as your mother.”

  “Not the same.”

  “Did you get a second opinion?”

  “Five diagnoses. All the same.”

  “There must be something they can do. Some treatment, surgery . . .”

  “It’s too far gone.”

  “Chemo, radiation . . .”

  “It’s already stage IV,” I said, remembering how not that long ago he’d said the same words to me, describing my mother’s prognosis. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

  He leaned his head back against wood, glaring up at heaven as though challenging God. “How long, Jenny? How long do you have?”

  “Months.”

  Slowly he nodded. I marveled at how well he was taking it . . . until he slipped from the chair like a rag doll. His knees hit the porch with a thud. My first thought was that he might be having a heart attack, until he howled in anguish.

  If anyone had been watching us, they’d have seen the tears spilling over my cheeks as a natural reaction to my father’s grief. There were tears of pain, yes, but as horrible as it may sound, there were tears of joy too. For the first time in my life I knew—really knew—my father loved me.

  He loved me.

  Chapter Eleven

  With Mama Peg and Isabella napping and Dad in his cave translating grief into watercolor, I found myself alone on the back porch, considering my fate. The future, to me, was nothing but a circling vulture waiting to pick apart my flesh. How I wished I could forget for a day or two that I was dying. Forget that my daughter would soon be motherless, my father childless, and my body spiritless.

  The sky cast an ominous hue, making the normally vibrant greenery look washed-out, like a photograph left too long in sunlight. Though wildflowers bloomed, the scent of earth and moss hung in the air, bringing to mind not summer, but autumn. I wondered if I would live to see it.