Florence Adler Swims Forever(74)

Stuart


Stuart watched as a storm took shape on the horizon. At the height of a busy Atlantic City summer, an overcast day came as a welcome relief to the members of the Beach Patrol. Absecon Island’s permanent residents stayed away from the beach, opting to be more productive at home or at the office, and the summer residents hunkered down in their vacation rentals, reading magazines and playing Parcheesi. Only the day-trippers, with no place to go, tried to make the best of things. They spent as much time at the beach as they could bear before giving up and seeking shelter at the arcades and amusements of the piers.

By midafternoon, there were so few people in the water that Robert took the rescue boat out, just to break up the tedium. “Whistle if you need me to come back,” he said as Stuart waved him off.

Stuart’s biggest concern wasn’t that he’d have to make a save while he was down a boat, but that the impending storm would interfere with Anna’s lesson, which was still a couple of hours away. On lesson nights, Anna arrived at the beach tent at six o’clock on the nose. If Stuart wasn’t yet finished putting away his gear, she waited patiently, and then they made their way across the Boardwalk to The Covington, where he had finally managed to convince her to stop asking him if they were really allowed to use the pool.

In the distance, Stuart could see lines of rain, like gray thread, fastening the clouds above to the ocean below. He couldn’t cancel Anna’s lesson if he wanted to; he was stuck in this chair until six o’clock. It occurred to him that Anna might not come, might decide on her own that the weather looked too bad to warrant leaving the Adlers’ apartment. A sinking feeling came over him. If she wasn’t at the beach tent, waiting for him, he knew he would be disappointed.

A hundred yards off the coast, beyond Robert and his rescue boat, a group of porpoises moved south. Occasionally, one of the beautiful creatures would throw itself into the air, landing back in the great, green lake with a flick of its tail, but more often, they skimmed the water’s surface, showing off no more than a nose here and a fin there. Stuart could have watched them all day but they never stayed that long.

“Do you see that?” a small voice said from the sand below. Stuart looked down from his chair to find Gussie staring up at him.

“Hey you,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.”

Stuart scanned the beach. If Gussie was here, Anna had to be close by. Maybe she intended to cancel the lesson and had brought Gussie along for company. He hoped like hell Isaac hadn’t brought her. It had been a week since Stuart had seen him, and he liked it that way. “Who are you here with?”

“Nobody.”

“Nobody?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Can I come up?”

She actually couldn’t come up. It was one of the rules. No one but an Atlantic City Beach Patrol employee was allowed in the stand.

Stuart looked up and down the beach, one eye out for the chief. He was probably at home playing Parcheesi, too.

“Come on up but be quick.”

Gussie was an agile child but she still had a hard time heaving herself onto the platform. After a few failed attempts, Stuart reached down, grabbed her hands, and hoisted her up.

“Here,” he said, handing her his sweater and an ACBP cap. “Put these on.” He was kidding himself to think that Chief Bryant would spy a sixty-pound child in his stand but discount her because she was wearing the proper uniform.

“Does your grandmother know you’re here?”

“No.”

“She’s going to panic when she realizes you’re missing. You can’t stay long.”

Stuart wondered if he should call Robert back. The beach was quiet enough that he could walk Gussie home. Maybe it’d give him a chance to see Anna, to make alternate plans.

“Oh, there they are again!” Gussie shouted, the ACBP cap falling down over her eyes. She pushed it back up on her head and looked at Stuart. “Dolphins.”

“They’re not dolphins. They’re porpoises.”

“How can you tell?”

“The fins. Dolphins have curved fins, and porpoises’ fins look like little triangles.”

“I like dolphins,” said Gussie. “They have their own special language.”

Stuart gave his best dolphin impression.

“What were you saying?”

“I said, ‘Your grandmother is going to skin your hide.’?”

“It’s like how we have ARP talk.”

“True.” It was hard for Stuart to comprehend how this child could be Isaac’s. She was so thoughtful and earnest.

Stuart and Gussie watched the last of the porpoises swim beyond Million Dollar Pier and out of sight. The wind was picking up and the rescue boat was getting smaller with each passing minute. If the waves got much bigger, Robert would have to turn around.

“Stuart,” Gussie said, tucking a piece of hair that had escaped the cap behind her ear, “if Florence hadn’t died, would you have married her?”

The question felt like a kick between the shoulder blades. Stuart pictured the brunt force of her remark knocking him off the stand and into the hard-packed sand three feet below.

“That’s a big question for so small a girl.”

“I’ll be eight soon.”