Free When You Believe by Deborah Bedford Page B

Charlie.”
    “The schools don’t want to risk it. And, whoosh, just like that, a teacher is gone.”
    Only three days ago they’d squatted on their haunches together at the edge of the dock, the wood still smooth and heavy green
     and smelling of cedar sap. Their favorite meeting spot, to watch the morning come into the patterns on the lake, like light
     comes into the facets of a diamond, magnified, multiplied.
    Put your hand in the water, Lyddie.
    Why?
    Sh-hhh. Don’t ask. Quick, or you’ll miss.
    Miss what?
    Do you trust me? You’ll see.
    Let me put my coffee mug down.
    Slow. Don’t move anything you don’t have to move. I’ll help you. That’s a girl. Now.
    His breathing warm on her ear, his chest full length and hard against her back. His arm curved around her as if they were
     stepping off into a dance, as if he wanted to hold her and set her free all at the same time.
    Now, your other hand.
    Both of them? You’re going to make me fall in.
    Sh-hhh.
    What?
    Here.
    He took her second hand himself and placed it inches beside the first one. With his hands cupped around hers in the water,
     they’d waited, motionless, his chin resting on her shoulder, until he said,
Now. NOW!
and they came up with a brilliant yellow fish, flipping and curling between her hands, as round and as small as her palm.
     His chin, moving against her shoulder blade. The fish, so beautiful, its heaving yellow middle reflecting glimpses of opal.
    It’s a sun perch. Brim.
    She’d watched as he released it and it side-splashed, then curved its way deep into the water until she couldn’t see it anymore.
     He had entranced her.
    Do it again,
she breathed. Then, after a long silence, staring down into the lake,
Oh, do it again.
    What do you want me to catch this time, Lyddie?
    A bass. Try a big-mouthed bass.
    You’re crazy. You know there’s some things that are easier to catch than others.
    The Loch Ness monster, then. Try to catch that. We’d be rich. We’d be famous.
With wet fishy hands, she turned into him and grabbed his face. For one frightening moment they lost their balance and she
     thought that, yes, they were both going to topple into the Brownbranch. But he captured her as they teetered and pulled her
     against him, rocking his face against her wet palms as he engulfed her with his big arms, both of them laughing.
    Then he had caught her wrists inside his hands and the laughter faded, replaced by a serious longing in his eyes that asked
     much of her. A deep-seated kiss that she almost couldn’t bear.
    Three mornings ago, and it had been the last time they had touched, the last time they had kissed.
    In a loving impulse, Lydia wanted to touch him now. She hungered to remember the planes of his jaw beneath her fingers, wanted
     the reassurance of his hauling her against his muscle and bone. She needed to hear him say, “It’s all right, all right now,
     Lyddie.”
    But it wasn’t all right.
    He backed away from her.
    “Just get in the truck, Lydia. We have to get to the school.”
    “I thought you wanted me to drive.”
    “Not anymore I don’t.”
    She tried to pray but nothing would come.
Oh, Father.
    The trees screamed out to her in the churchyard. How could you think he would still want you after you’ve let her accuse him?
     You fool. You fool. You fool.
    Lydia climbed into her side of the truck and slammed the door.
    Charlie mounted on his side and yanked the rearview mirror so he could see the boat.
    She tucked her knees up with a sullen thump of feet on his dashboard. As if she could make herself invisible, she slouched
     as low as she could go.
    Charlie winched his seatbelt across his pelvis with the same zealous fervor as he would hoist a battle flag. He jerked the
     gearshift from neutral into first and gave it too much gas. The truck leapt forward.
    “There’s one thing I know,” she told him fiercely as the trailer rattled over the gravel behind them. “Only one thing I know
     about this. Maybe this