The Lobotomist's Wife(15)
“Isn’t there anyone at Magnolia Bluff to feed us?” Robert asked, amused when he found Ruth packing a picnic basket of provisions for their first weekend there.
Ruth smiled. “I’m afraid this isn’t like the summers in Newport with your Yalies. Mr. Gilbert will open the house for us and keep the fires going in the bedroom and study, but he is the only staff in the off-season. We will really be on our own.” She looked at him nervously, worried that he might be displeased and unsure how she would handle it if he were. “Is that all right?”
“Wonderful! Like camping. As long as I have my reading and my fiancée, I need nothing more.” Ruth welled up with joy. There weren’t many men who would be willing to set aside the comforts of a staffed townhouse for a weekend of roughing it by the blustery shore. Just another sign that they were truly perfect partners.
By the time they pulled up to the house, the sun was muted and low in the sky. The bare trees bent in the strong wind and the peaked roofs cast long shadows, obscuring the ornate details of the house’s facade. Ruth worried that Robert would be put off by the coldness of it all. “Should we hunker down in front of the fire for the evening? We can walk outside tomorrow, when the sun is out and the air’s a bit warmer?”
“What would you do if you were here alone, my darling?”
“Well.” Ruth paused. “I’d go to the beach.” Ruth connected the beach with her brother. She knew it was silly but, somehow, she felt that when she was there, at the edge of the shore, he was still with her.
“Well then, to the beach we will go.”
Ruth rang the bell. Mr. Gilbert opened the door and quickly came outside to carry their things into the dark foyer. Robert, meanwhile, offered Ruth his arm, and she led him down the stone path, past the gardens and dormant trees to the craggy rock-lined shore. “Why, look at that, an island perfect for exploring. Do people swim out there in summer?”
“Of course! The island is actually part of the estate. Harry and I used to race there all the time when we were children.”
Ruth smiled at the memory, as her mind drifted to being thirteen. She had had another fight with her mother. Helen simply couldn’t understand Ruth’s peculiar interests: climbing trees, ruining her hair in the ocean, and trying to study those “gruesome” medical books that filled her father’s library, when she could have been trying on dresses and attending parties. “You really should have been born a boy, then I wouldn’t have to worry about finding a husband for you.”
Ruth was so distraught by the time she found Harry playing tennis with Marie, a girl who lived farther down the shore, that she demanded he put down his racket and come swimming. When he told her to get lost, Ruth stormed off. This summer he only had eyes for Marie.
It felt heavy and hot like August, even though it was only late May, and the swimming wouldn’t really be tolerable until at least the Fourth of July. Still, the water beckoned, and Ruth wanted to answer its call. Harry be damned.
Ruth always waded in slowly, savoring the torture of the cold creeping up her body. This day the water was so icy that when it reached her waist, she forced herself all the way under to get the shock over with. She felt so alive as the enveloping chill took away all other thoughts for just a moment. She immediately broke into a vigorous crawl to warm herself.
Ruth was an excellent swimmer, stronger even than Harry. Her mind went blank as she got lost in the rhythm of her stroke—the reach of her long arms toward the island, the rapid kick of her legs away from the shore, and the steady turn and lift of her head for air.
Kick, kick, kick, kick. Stroke, stroke, breathe.
Kick, kick, kick, kick. Stroke, stroke, breathe.
She paused for a moment to see if she was nearing the island’s shore. She still had quite a distance to go and she was beginning to feel fatigued. Maybe the water was too cold. Not wanting to risk anything, she decided she should turn back and accelerated her kick to bring her to shore faster. Suddenly a sharp pain overcame her. The back of her leg felt like a rubber band that had been pulled so taut it would snap. Instinct took over and she reached to grab her leg, which made it worse. Now she was afraid to move, afraid she would tear something. But she knew if she didn’t move, she would drown.
She fixed her gaze on the shore, hoping to see movement, someone to help her. There was no one. She tried to stay calm and began to wave her arms, kicking her other leg as best she could. She screamed for help as she began to sink, flailing more aggressively, her awkward twists and turns driving her under the surface. “Help!” she coughed, splashing with all her might. She thought she could see a figure darting across the lawn toward the water’s edge but feared she might be imagining it. And then she sank under completely, the water engulfing her. It felt as if time had slowed dramatically. Ruth tried to get to the surface, but her body felt so heavy. It was so cold. She didn’t want this to be the end, but there was something eerily calming about slowly sinking to the bottom, so peaceful she thought maybe she should just let go, let go, let . . . but then he was there—Harry! Grabbing her around the waist and pulling her to the surface. He seemed so strong, treading water while he turned her on her back so she could breathe and float, and then swimming her to the safety of the rocky shore.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Harry screamed, not even trying to hold back the tears as he fought to catch his breath.