that involves bare feet,” Dianne said.
“Ahhh,” Lucinda said, closing her eyes in bliss, ticking off the time until July fifteenth.
“Gleee,” Julia said.
“Just imagine, Julia. I'll have all this free time, I'll be able to read all the books I've missed. Will you help me catch up?” Lucinda asked before opening her eyes.
Dianne exhaled slowly. Julia's life was full of love, but it was so horribly, disgustingly unfair: to have her grandmother be the town librarian and be unable to read, to have her mother make real-life playhouses and be unable to play.
“Do you think she's happy?” Dianne heard herself ask.
“Well, I know she is,” her mother said. “Just look at her.”
Dianne opened her eyes, and it was true. Julia was rolling her head in slow rhythms, as if she were keeping time with music in her head. She stared at Dianne. Lucinda touched Dianne's shoulder, and Dianne leaned against her.
“My happy girl,” Dianne said, wanting to believe.
“Maaa,” Julia said. “Maaaaaa.”
Could a person die from loving too much? Could the weight of Julia crush her, squeeze the breath right out of her? Summer seemed like a sweet dream. Her mother would be retired; she, Dianne, and Julia could lie on the beach, feeling the hot sand under their backs, letting the breeze take away all their troubles.
“Go for a row, sweetheart,” her mother said. “I'll stay with Julia.”
Dianne hesitated. She thought of that perfect white house down on the harbor: Lately all her own dreams went into the playhouses she built. Her own home was broken. Dianne felt hard and frozen in-side.Her muscles ached, and she knew it would feel good to pull on the oars, slip through the marsh into open water.
“Thanks, Mom,” Dianne said.
Lucinda held her gaze. She was small and strong. Even without touching Dianne, her support and force were flowing into her. Outside, a light breeze blew through the golden-green rushes. Sea otters slid off the banks, playing in the silty brown water.
“Go,” her mother urged.
Nodding, Dianne ran down to the dock.
As kids, the McIntosh boys had lived by the sea. Neil, Alan, and Tim had grown up on Cape Cod, ten miles east of the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution. Alan had spent several summers working in the hydrophone lab there. His mentor, Malachy Condon, told him he had the best ear for dolphin talk of any student he'd ever met. But Alan was destined to be a pediatrician.
Now, eighteen years later, on his Wednesday afternoons off Alan went to the library to read the latest issues of
Delphinus Watch
and
Whale Quarterly
-to keep up with his old interest and to see an old friend-Lucinda Robbins. The Hawthorne Public Library was two blocks from his house. But Alan went running first, so it took him forty-five minutes to get there.
“Did you do six miles?” Mrs. Robbins asked, standing behind the counter.
“Seven today,” he said.
She handed him a folded towel she had picked up from a cart of books to be reshelved.
Several months after Tim had walked out on Dianne, Alan had stopped by the library after his run. He had been missing Mrs. Robbins. She had always been good to him, accepting him into her family from the very start. He had more in common with her than Tim did-he had practically lived in libraries at Woods Hole and Cambridge, and during Tim and Dianne's marriage, Alan and Lucinda were always talking books and ideas.
But that day, eleven years ago, he had stood there, noticing the trail of sweat dripping on the brown linoleum floor, feeling the librarian's wrath. What had he expected? He was a McIntosh, Tim's brother, and that fact alone was bound to set her off.
The next week he had gone home to shower first. He didn't want to alienate Mrs. Robbins. He had realized how important she had become to him, and now she wanted nothing to do with him. Taking care of Julia, he felt the family connection more than ever, and he had come to apologize. To his surprise, Mrs. Robbins had
“Ahhh,” Lucinda said, closing her eyes in bliss, ticking off the time until July fifteenth.
“Gleee,” Julia said.
“Just imagine, Julia. I'll have all this free time, I'll be able to read all the books I've missed. Will you help me catch up?” Lucinda asked before opening her eyes.
Dianne exhaled slowly. Julia's life was full of love, but it was so horribly, disgustingly unfair: to have her grandmother be the town librarian and be unable to read, to have her mother make real-life playhouses and be unable to play.
“Do you think she's happy?” Dianne heard herself ask.
“Well, I know she is,” her mother said. “Just look at her.”
Dianne opened her eyes, and it was true. Julia was rolling her head in slow rhythms, as if she were keeping time with music in her head. She stared at Dianne. Lucinda touched Dianne's shoulder, and Dianne leaned against her.
“My happy girl,” Dianne said, wanting to believe.
“Maaa,” Julia said. “Maaaaaa.”
Could a person die from loving too much? Could the weight of Julia crush her, squeeze the breath right out of her? Summer seemed like a sweet dream. Her mother would be retired; she, Dianne, and Julia could lie on the beach, feeling the hot sand under their backs, letting the breeze take away all their troubles.
“Go for a row, sweetheart,” her mother said. “I'll stay with Julia.”
Dianne hesitated. She thought of that perfect white house down on the harbor: Lately all her own dreams went into the playhouses she built. Her own home was broken. Dianne felt hard and frozen in-side.Her muscles ached, and she knew it would feel good to pull on the oars, slip through the marsh into open water.
“Thanks, Mom,” Dianne said.
Lucinda held her gaze. She was small and strong. Even without touching Dianne, her support and force were flowing into her. Outside, a light breeze blew through the golden-green rushes. Sea otters slid off the banks, playing in the silty brown water.
“Go,” her mother urged.
Nodding, Dianne ran down to the dock.
As kids, the McIntosh boys had lived by the sea. Neil, Alan, and Tim had grown up on Cape Cod, ten miles east of the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution. Alan had spent several summers working in the hydrophone lab there. His mentor, Malachy Condon, told him he had the best ear for dolphin talk of any student he'd ever met. But Alan was destined to be a pediatrician.
Now, eighteen years later, on his Wednesday afternoons off Alan went to the library to read the latest issues of
Delphinus Watch
and
Whale Quarterly
-to keep up with his old interest and to see an old friend-Lucinda Robbins. The Hawthorne Public Library was two blocks from his house. But Alan went running first, so it took him forty-five minutes to get there.
“Did you do six miles?” Mrs. Robbins asked, standing behind the counter.
“Seven today,” he said.
She handed him a folded towel she had picked up from a cart of books to be reshelved.
Several months after Tim had walked out on Dianne, Alan had stopped by the library after his run. He had been missing Mrs. Robbins. She had always been good to him, accepting him into her family from the very start. He had more in common with her than Tim did-he had practically lived in libraries at Woods Hole and Cambridge, and during Tim and Dianne's marriage, Alan and Lucinda were always talking books and ideas.
But that day, eleven years ago, he had stood there, noticing the trail of sweat dripping on the brown linoleum floor, feeling the librarian's wrath. What had he expected? He was a McIntosh, Tim's brother, and that fact alone was bound to set her off.
The next week he had gone home to shower first. He didn't want to alienate Mrs. Robbins. He had realized how important she had become to him, and now she wanted nothing to do with him. Taking care of Julia, he felt the family connection more than ever, and he had come to apologize. To his surprise, Mrs. Robbins had
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