“Garland couldn’t swim,” Fred went on. “Had no business being up there in the first place. Bessie and I were on the far side of the basin, having a little time to ourselves. I heard him scream as he fell. Hit the water like a stone. I did what anybody would.”
“Anybody!” Bessie scoffed. “Not a one of those other anybodies dove in after him. Not even his own brother and sister. They just stood up there shouting the fact of it, crying and calling his name, like he’d rise up out of that water on his own. But I never saw anybody move as fast as my Fred. He ran like he was afire and dove right in. Took those bystanding children clean by surprise. They hadn’t even known we were there.”
Bessie closed her eyes and trembled. “They were under water so long, I shiver to remember. The surface got smooth as glass. And then Fred shot up to the surface like a geyser, the first time without the boy. He took a terrifying breath, loud and desperate, then dove right back under for an even longer time. I was sure they were both dead. Then Henry shoots by out of nowhere and dives in after Fred. What were you doing up there anyway?” she said, turning suddenly to Henry.
“My motives weren’t pure,” Henry said. “I went up there to draw, because that’s where the high school girls would go skinny-dipping. Best life-drawing class I ever had.”
Harlan chuckled.
“What happened then?” I asked, not caring a bit about skinny-dipping girls.
“Next thing I knew,” Bessie said, “Fred and Henry shot up out of that water, with Garland. Fred was gasping and coughing up water, but Garland looked pale as death, not breathing at all. I ran down to the water’s edge and the two of them pushed Garland high enough so I could drag him by his shirt collar to level ground, but he still wasn’t breathing. Henry told Fred to work his legs, push his knees into his chest, while Henry leaned over him, lifted his little chin, and breathed the breath right back into him, alternating with that heart-pumping thing they do.”
Bessie crossed her small hands over her heart and pushed up and down.
“A miracle,” the Padre said to Henry.
“A merit badge,” Henry said blandly.
“To top it all off,” Bessie went on, “those high school kids came down and start taking credit, like it was them that pulled Garland out, especially that Lucinda Bean, Tate’s and Garland’s sister, who was supposed to have been babysitting Garland at home. She’d brought him up to the quarry because she was sweet on the Wilson boy.”
“The lady from the grocery store?” I asked Henry, and he nodded. “She’s the sheriff’s sister?”
“She is,” Bessie said. “Not one bit changed, if you ask me. Standing there saying Delray Peters had pulled Garland out and Willie Wilson had breathed the life back into him—as bald a bald-faced lie as ever was told, because the pair of them stood there dry as dust with Fred and Henry dripping wet beside them. They didn’t even have the sense to get wet before the law came! Anybody with eyes could have seen who the real heroes were. Garland was clinging to Fred like Fred was his mama. Fred had to ride in the ambulance because Garland wouldn’t let go. He knew who’d pulled him out. But Lucinda and Delray hold to their version to this day.”
“So that’s why she and the mayor don’t like you two,” the Padre said to Henry and Fred.
“But they saved a little kid’s life!” I cried.
“No good deed goes unpunished,” said Franklin.
“Unpunished by who?” I asked.
“God. The Fates. Other people. Take your pick.”
“Lord,” I said. “I’ll never understand God or human beings as long as I live.”
“Join the congregation,” said the Padre.
“So much bravery here,” Helen said. “I’m a sissy myself.”
“Not true. You married me,” Franklin said sweetly, and Helen smiled.
“Well, I certainly don’t deserve to sit in such courageous company,” said the Padre.
“Now, Padre,” Bessie protested. “Dalton Pendergrass told me how you stood up to those old biddies who wanted to poison Zoë’s cat!”
“Who wanted to poison my cat?” I shouted. “I’ll skin ’em, I swear.”
“I’ll hold them down while you do,” said Maud.
“Don’t you worry,” Bessie said. “The Padre told them they’d spend eternity in Hell if they laid so much as a fingernail on that animal. Didn’t you, Padre?”
“Did I?” said the Padre hopefully. He sat up taller in his chair. “I’m so pleased.”
“I want names,” I demanded.
“Shhh,” Henry said. He put one finger to his lips and glanced over at Harlan, and I turned to see why he’d been so quiet during the story. He was slumped back in his chair, sound asleep, head cocked to one side, his mouth full open. It was not a pretty sight.
“That man needs a dentist,” Bessie said, frowning.
Henry looked at me. “What do you say we have our talk?”
The others talked on in the front room as Henry and I put out a sleeping bag and pillows in front of the study fireplace for Harlan. I settled in one of the two armchairs while Henry lighted a fire.
“Fred thinks I’ve let you run wild,” Henry began, taking a seat behind his desk.
“Is that what you think?” I asked.
He considered for a minute. “See this?” he said, pointing to his forehead.
I leaned close. I saw the faintest line of a scar on his forehead, like a windy river on a map. It disappeared under his red bandanna, which he pulled off, revealing his baldness. The scar ran almost to the back of his head.
“Seventy-seven stitches,” he said. “I wasn’t paying attention one day. A sculpture fell on me. I hadn’t distributed the weight of the upper parts properly over the base. Sliced a nasty gash in my head.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, not seeing where this was going.
“Fred says I haven’t been paying enough attention to you. Says I’ve given you too
