Swimming Lessons

by Mary Alice Monroe

  Emmi turned to Toy, her face softening. “Sugar, you’re wise beyond your years. I’m in awe. You’re right to give our Little Lovie the chance to meet her father. It’s her right, as much as his.”

  “What right?” Cara jumped in, frowning at the path this discussion was taking. “He hasn’t been her father. He hasn’t paid a single dime in child support. He doesn’t have any legal rights.”

  “I’m talking moral rights, not legal,” Emmi fired back. “And besides, he just might have legal rights.”

  “What?” Toy exclaimed, shocked.

  “You’d best find out what he wants,” Emmi said to Toy. “Paternity is fatherhood in the eyes of the law. Plain and simple.”

  “He hasn’t a leg to stand on, morally or legally,” Cara argued. “That man wasn’t there from the day of Little Lovie’s birth.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Cara,” Emmi volleyed. “The law is the law. I learned a few things in my divorce. Darryl can prove paternity and take Toy to court for custody, or at the very least, visitation rights. In many states, including the state of South Carolina, children born to unmarried parents are labeled by the law as illegitimate or bastards.”

  Toy sucked in her breath.

  “I’m sorry, honey,” Emmi said. “You know I’m not pointing fingers here. I just want you to be prepared. If you suspect he’s after custody, you’d best consult a lawyer. Besides, Toy, for what it’s worth, I think you’re right about letting Lovie meet her father. If she doesn’t, Lovie will only grow up resenting you. I should have been more like you and let my boys feel it was okay to still see their father after the divorce. In the end, my anger against Tom is destroying my relationship with my sons. I intend to back off and let them make their own decisions.”

  “Your boys are men. Lovie is a young, impressionable child,” Cara argued back. “Tom might have been an ally cat as a husband, but he was always there for the boys. And he for sure never beat you or them. Darryl’s been a no-count, no-show, sorry so and so. He says he’s changed, but the jury is still out. Letting Little Lovie know who her father is—and letting him get involved with her life—are two very different scenarios.”

  “I realize that,” Toy said in finality. The conversation was causing her such turmoil she couldn’t sit here any longer. She rose then looked at the two middle-aged women sitting across the small porch table. These women were her support system, her family, the only one she and Lovie had ever known.

  “Thank you. You’ve helped me a lot. I needed to talk it through and I appreciate you being here. But I’ve made up my mind.”

  “I can’t believe you’re going to let him see Lovie.” Cara could not conceal her frustration.

  Toy felt a small anger build in her chest at Cara’s obstinacy. She felt as though her own intellect and ability to reason out a problem were dismissed. “This is my decision, Cara. You can’t possibly understand how I feel. You’ve never walked in my shoes.”

  “I’m just trying to give you some advice,” Cara said pointedly.

  “I don’t want your advice!” Toy cried back. “I don’t want you to tell me what to do. I just wanted you to hear me. Can’t you just listen to me?”

  Cara was taken aback. She looked at Toy, long and hard. Slowly her expression softened. At length, she said, “I hear you. I’m just afraid for you, honey.”

  “I know what I’m doing,” Toy replied.

  Cara lifted her hands, implying there was nothing left to say.

  Walking away, Toy was troubled that Cara was upset with her. Cara had been her role model for these past years and she’d strived to be more like her. Yet there were harsh realities about her own life and upbringing that Cara couldn’t ever understand. Toy had to do what she felt was best for herself and for her child.

  At the door she turned and waved. Cara’s eyes were fixed on her. Toy knew that no matter what happened, Cara would be there waiting if she needed her. And that knowledge gave her strength. She also knew without a doubt what the topic of conversation was going to be on the porch the moment the front door clicked shut.

  18

  The following morning, the turtle tank filters were backing up, the delivery of fresh fish hadn’t arrived in time for the morning feeding, and if that wasn’t enough, another sick turtle was brought in to the Aquarium, this time from a beach off Litchfield.

  Putting all the other emergencies on hold, Toy spent hours doing intake procedures on dark, listless “Litchfield” while desperately begging for yet another tank from other departments. Elizabeth was a lifesaver when she agreed to come in for an extra shift to help the two new volunteers, Bev and Barb, with the turtles because Ethan and Jason were out on the Scout collecting specimens for the Aquarium.

  In the midst of the pandemonium, Toy’s mind was struggling with finding a way to forestall a huge personal calamity. Ethan and Darryl were both scheduled to show up at her house for dinner that night.

  How could she have made such a blunder? she asked herself a thousand times that day. She should have known better than to set such an important date without checking her calendar, but Darryl had been insistent and she’d been caught in the moment. It wasn’t until this morning that she’d realized she’d already inked in dinner with Ethan for the same time.

  She’d frantically tried to reach Ethan by telephone to beg off for the evening, but he wouldn’t answer his phone. Upon arriving at the Aquarium, she’d learned about the fishing expedition and knew he’d be out of telephone range. Favel had assured her that Ethan was scheduled to dock late that afternoon, so Toy waited anxiously all afternoon. But when five-thirty rolled around without sight of him, there was nothing left for her to do but leave him a message in his office and pray.

  Ethan’s office was a cubicle in a long series of partitioned areas on the executive third floor. Toy peeked through the opening, feeling uncomfortably like she was spying while he was gone. Seeing the empty space, it occurred to her how much she depended on Ethan at the Aquarium. If he’d been there today, a tank from somewhere and fresh fish from his stores of food would have arrived without hesitation. Granted, she managed each emergency on her own today, but his not being there underscored how great a team they’d forged at work.

  Like most others, his cubicle was barely large enough for a desk, a bookcase and a spare chair. Unlike her own cubicle, however, which was cluttered with photographs and drawings by Little Lovie, Ethan’s office was void of personal effects. The only decorations were two posters on the wall: one showed different species of sharks, the other was a map of Costa Rica.

  She entered the space, letting her fingertips skim along the edge of his gray metal desk. The contact was oddly sensual and her gaze devoured every detail in its path. He was a very organized man. Not a pencil was out of place. And there wasn’t one personal photograph on his desk—not of family, or friends. Nor of her, she thought with a twinge of disappointment as she picked up a pen and bent to write him a short note. She set the paper up against the cup in the middle of the desk. “Please, see it,” she prayed.

  She closed up her own office and hurried home, focusing now on the important evening ahead with Lovie and Darryl. The inside of her car was like a furnace but she didn’t delay to take down the rag top. Cranking open the windows, she squealed out of the parking lot and headed north on East Bay. The clock in her ancient VW had broken long ago but her wristwatch informed her it was ten before six. She was running desperately late for her six o’clock dinner with Darryl.

  There was just too much going on in her life, she told herself as she shifted gears and turned off Palm Boulevard on to the narrow road she lived on. Mistakes were going to happen if she didn’t make some decisions soon.

  Darryl’s Mustang was parked in her driveway. It was the same car that he’d driven back when they dated and showed its age. The front fender had a new dent, the rear tail light was smashed and the bumper bore a peeling Lynyrd Skynyrd sticker. So much had happened to her since the night
he’d picked her up for the last time from this same beach house in that same car, she thought. In retrospect she saw that it was symbolic that they’d driven away into a hurricane.

  She puffed out a pent up sigh and cut the engine. Instantly she was immersed in a deep island quiet. She felt suspended in time, safe from the turmoil outside the car. She longed to stay in the small compartment for a while, to be alone for a few minutes in peace to put her thoughts together. But Darryl’s car was empty which meant he was waiting out there somewhere.

  She hurried from the car and up the front stairs. Opening her front door, she saw that the room was empty and quiet. “Darryl?”

  “I’m out here,” he called back from the back porch.

  Unsettled that he’d let himself into the house, she paused only to drop her purse and keys onto the front table and take a quick look around the room. God help her, but she checked to make sure the silver candlesticks were still on the sideboard. They were. Sighing with relief, she went directly to the rear porch. The screen door squeaked as she pushed it open.

  Darryl sat slouched in a rocker, a bottle of beer dangling from his long fingers. One booted foot rested on the wicker table, the other was propelling the chair in its rocking motion. A fast food bag and a six-pack of beer sat on the floor beside him.

  “You look right at home,” she told him, barely able to conceal her irritation.

  He looked up and offered her a sweet smile. “I hope you don’t mind my letting myself in but it was getting right steamy in that car. I didn’t think it’d be a problem if I just sat on your porch a spell.”

  “It’s okay,” she replied. She took a deep breath and tried to let go of the day’s frustration. “I was held up at work. I’m sorry you had to wait.”

  “No problem.” He lifted his hand that held a bottle. “Want a beer?”

  She yearned for a beer after the day she’d had. “Not yet, thanks. I still have to get Lovie.”

  “Hope you don’t mind I started without you. I brought some and popped them in the fridge. I was parched.” He turned his head to look out over the ocean, his eyes gleaming with appreciation. The dunes looked amber colored in this light and beyond, the ocean was a purple line against the graying sky. “Man, oh, man, that’s a beauty view. You got a straight shot of the ocean from here. I reckon them’s the last three vacant ocean lots on the island. ’Course, someday some builder’s going to come and put up more of them mansions. Then there goes your view.”

  “Actually, no. Those three lots are deeded for conservation. They’ll never be developed.”

  “You’re kidding? All three of them?” Darryl released a soft whistle. “That makes this property a gold mine. Ocean front. You’re damn lucky.”

  “I’m not lucky. It’s not my house.”

  “But you live here.”

  She thought of Palmer’s comments about how much rent Cara could get from someone else if she found a new place to live. “Yes, I am lucky to live here.”

  “It’s like they say, the rich get richer and the poor get poorer. How long do you intend to stay?”

  “Not for long,” she replied, uneasy. He always was nosy when it came to her affairs. “Until I get on my feet.”

  “Don’t get on your feet any too quick, if you catch my drift. I have to hand it to them, though. That’s real nice of them to let you stay here. Not many folks would do that. Is it rent free?”

  “No,” she answered sharply, irked that he asked. He was crossing the line. “Listen, I’m sorry, but I have to go pick up Lovie.” She instantly regretted saying sorry to him. It was a word she’d used all the time when they were dating and anything that went wrong was her fault. “She’s just next door. Will you be okay alone here for a few more minutes?”

  He lifted his beer in reply. “I’m fine, darlin’. Just hurry on up so we can see the sunset together.”

  She hoped he wouldn’t get romantic tonight. She practically ran across the path to Flo’s door. Flo answered on the second knock.

  “I’m sorry, I’m…”

  “Thank goodness you’re here,” Flo interrupted, grabbing her arm and pulling her into the house. Once the door closed she rounded on her. “There’s a strange man on your porch! I would have called the police but Little Lovie says she knows him. I tried calling you but you didn’t answer your cell phone.” She said the last in an accusatory voice.

  “I didn’t hear it,” she replied, digging into her purse. Dread enveloped her as she pulled out the phone. Sure enough, the battery was dead. She immediately thought of Ethan and wondered if he’d tried to reach her. “Today of all days,” she muttered. Looking up she said to Flo, “I’m sorry. I’m usually careful about charging it, but…”

  “But you’ve had a lot on your mind. I know,” she said. “And if that guy sitting on your porch is who Lovie says it is, it’s no wonder.” Flo’s eyes were blazing.

  Lovie came bounding into the room, crashing against her legs. “You’re here! Guess what? Daddy’s here!” Toy could tell she loved just saying the word daddy. “I’m going over.”

  “Lovie, wait!” Toy reached for her but Lovie was quicker. She’d already pulled open the door and darted out with Flo in pursuit. “Let her go,” she called to Flo. “It’s all right.”

  Flo put her hands on her hips and watched the child run down the stairs and across the gravel driveway that separated their two houses. “I’m fit to be tied,” Flo said when she turned back into the house. “What’s he doing here?”

  “Don’t let’s get into it right now,” Toy replied, putting her palm up. “I’m already late.” She turned to go but Flo put an arresting hand on her arm.

  “You know what I think, and what I feel.”

  “It’s different now. He’s different.”

  “How is it different? Leopards don’t change their spots.” She narrowed her eyes and delivered the blow. “Olivia Rutledge never liked him, never trusted him, never wanted him in her house.”

  Her aim was true. “Oh, Flo, don’t say that. It’s not fair.” She dropped her head into her palm. “Do you know I’ve said I’m sorry four times since I’ve been home? And I’ve only been home for fifteen minutes!” She looked up and took a stabilizing breath.

  “I can’t do this any more. I have to make my own decisions, no matter if you or Cara or anyone else doesn’t like them.”

  Flo smoothed her blouse in a long silence. “Well, you’re a grown woman. You’re not a girl any longer.” She reached out her strong hand, dotted by age, and cupped Toy’s cheek. Her face softened and in her eyes Toy saw true affection and wisdom, such as she had always seen in old Miss Lovie’s eyes.

  Flo dropped her hand and her face grew stern again. “But don’t come crying to me if he hurts you.”

  “He won’t.”

  Flo wagged her finger. “And if he hurts my Little Lovie, I’m going after him myself!”

  She kissed Flo’s cheek. “He won’t,” she said softly then left, knowing full well that Flo was hawking her every move through her window.

  The sky had softened to azure and the breeze held a hint of moisture. Before going to her house, Toy stole a moment to tip her head back. She ran her hands through her hair, then vigorously scratched her scalp, shaking away the tension and sending her elastic flying.

  Everyone was against her decision to let Darryl near, battering against her resolve like hard wood against a beleaguered gate. No one realized how hard Darryl’s return was for her or how much history was being dredged up. She closed her eyes, taking the moment to garner her strength and stay the course.

  It was a quiet night, yet she didn’t hear the crunch of footfall on gravel till it drew near. She spun on her heel and opened her eyes.

  Ethan was walking toward her up the driveway in his steady, long legged gait. He smiled boyishly and looked carefree in baggy shorts and a pale blue, wrinkled S.C. Aquarium T-shirt. His tan had deepened from a day on the open water and the sea salt and wind had spiked his hair. In his arms he ca
rried a cooler.

  Her breath held, she dropped her hands and her stomach rose to her throat.

  He stopped before her and as his gaze slowly crossed her face an expression of pleasure eased across his own. “Hello.”

  The word was tinged with intimacy. When she didn’t reply he went on, “I hope you haven’t eaten yet.”

  Toy struggled for her voice. “No.”

  “Great. I’m starved. I’m sorry I’m late getting here. What a day!” he exclaimed, buoyant from the excursion. “You should have been there. We collected a couple dozen cutlass fish. They’re amazing creatures! Long and thin, a cross between a barracuda and an eel, if you can picture it. They have this amazing, steely blue color and an enormous mouth filled with sharp teeth.” He paused to grin, just thinking of them. “We didn’t have any at the Aquarium and now we have a collection. It’s so great. We put them in a holding tank. Toy, they’re a marvel to see! They’re all swimming around in a school. God, I hope I can keep them alive.” His dark eyes, usually so serious, were sparkling with excitement.

  “You didn’t get my message?”

  He looked perplexed. “Your message?”

  “I left it in your office.”

  “I didn’t go to my office. I was late getting in so I came directly from the boat.”

  She opened her mouth to explain when from the porch, Lovie called out, “Hi, Ethan!”

  He lifted his face, grinning brightly. “Hey there, pumpkin!” Then she watched as if in slow motion as his brows knitted and his head slowly tilted. His brown eyes squinted slightly.

  Toy turned to look back at the porch. Lovie stood pressed against the screen waving, and directly behind her, with his hand resting on her shoulder, was Darryl.

  Ethan blinked twice then jerked his head to look at her. In that nanosecond she thought she saw a frisson of jealousy.