“It’s time we spoke the truth. There has been no progress at all.”
“. . . We mustn’t give up hope.”
“Mustn’t we?” The skin on his cheeks was as thin and sheer as a veil. “I came here to die, you must know that.”
“No! I certainly don’t know that.” I felt aghast, even angry. It was as if the bad dream had cracked his façade, and I suddenly wished for it back. “. . . If you believe you’re dying, then why didn’t you insist we go home?”
“It will be hard for you to understand this, but the last few years at home have been difficult. It seemed a relief to be far away, to be here with you and go quietly. I felt like here I could detach more easily from the things I’ve known and loved my whole life.”
My hand went to my mouth. I felt my eyes film over with tears.
“Sarah. My dear girl. Let’s not indulge vain hopes. I don’t expect to recover, nor do I want to.”
His face blazed intensely now. I took his hand and gradually his expression eased, and he drifted to sleep.
He woke at three in the afternoon. The white flag had just been raised—I could see it framed in the window, snapping against the translucent sky. I held the water glass to his lips and helped him to drink. He said, “We’ve had our quarrels, haven’t we?”
I knew what was coming and I wanted to spare him. To spare me. “It doesn’t matter now.”
“You’ve always had a strong, separate mind, perhaps even a radical mind, and I was harsh with you at times. You must forgive me.”
I couldn’t imagine what it cost him to say these words. “I do,” I said. “And you must forgive me.”
“Forgive you for what, Sarah? For following your conscience? Do you think I don’t abhor slavery as you do? Do you think I don’t know it was greed that kept me from following my conscience as you have? The plantation, the house, our entire way of life depended on the slaves.” His face contorted and he clutched at his side a moment before going on. “Or should I forgive you for wanting to give natural expression to your intellect? You were smarter than even Thomas or John, but you’re female, another cruelty I was helpless to change.”
“Father, please. I have no resentment of you.” It wasn’t completely true, but I said it.
Giggles floated up from the beach below, tangled in the wind. “You should go outside and refresh your spirit,” he said.
I protested, but he wouldn’t relent. “How will you take care of me, if you don’t take care of yourself? Do this for me. I’ll be fine.”
I meant only to wade in the surf. I removed my shoes and placed them beside the portable changing house that had been wheeled out onto the sand. At that moment, the friendly sister, Althea, drew back the canvas and stepped out wearing a red-and-black-striped bathing gown with a peplum flounce and balloon sleeves. I wished Handful could’ve seen it.
“How lovely. Are you finally bathing with us?” she said.
“. . . Oh, no, I don’t have the attire for it.”
She scrutinized my face, which must’ve radiated unhappiness in every direction, for she announced she’d suddenly lost the desire to bathe and it would please her enormously if I would don her dress and take a plunge. After my conversation with Father, I felt flayed open, all pulp and redness. I wanted to disappear somewhere alone, yet I looked at the rope-line of women jutting into the sea, and then beyond it at the green mountains of water, so limitless and untamed, and I accepted her offer.
She smiled when I emerged from the changing room. She had no cap, and I’d unpinned my hair, which was flaming out in the wind. She said I looked like a mermaid.
I took hold of one of the ropes and followed it into the waves, hand over fist, until I came to where the rest of the ladies stood. The water slapped our thighs, tossing us to and fro, a tiny game of Snap the Whip, and then without knowing what I was about to do, I turned loose and strode away from them. I pushed into the seething water, and when I was some distance, I dropped onto my back and floated. It was a shock to feel the water hold me. To lie in the sea while upstairs my father lay dying.