Saint Maybe - Anne Tyler [64]
Next came Crafts, where they made framed scripture plaques from drinking straws. And after that, Song Time, where they sang, “I’ve got the peace-that-passeth-understanding down in my heart, down in my heart …” as fast as possible in hopes that someone’s tongue would get twisted, but nobody’s did. And then Afternoon Swim, the longest single, period of the day. Thomas thought maybe Sister Myra had lost all her zip by then and just let them go on swimming because it was easiest. During their nap she had changed back into her skirt and blouse (probably for Reverend Emmett’s visit, even though clothes were not supposed to matter), and she didn’t bother getting into her swimsuit again but sat on a chair next to the pool with her skirt pulled up above her knees and her face tipped back to catch the sun. Still, you couldn’t put a thing past her. “No dunking allowed, Dermott Kyle!” she called, although Dermott was barely beginning to move in Mindy’s direction and Sister Myra’s eyes were closed. Her face was so freckled that it had a spattered look, as if someone had thrown handfuls of beige spangles at her.
Thomas knew how to swim—Ian had taught him last summer—but he hated getting his head wet. He swam straining out of the water, his arms flailing wildly and splashing too much. Agatha swam a slow, steady breast-stroke like an old person. Her gaze was fixed and her chin stayed just under the surface, so that she looked obstinate. Dermott Kyle, naturally, was wonderful at every stroke there was and also claimed to be able to dive, although he couldn’t prove it because Sister Myra didn’t have a diving board.
In the baby pool, Sister Audrey stood ankle-deep and bent over with her hands in the water. Johnny Larson was emptying a sprinkling can on top of Percy’s head. Daphne was … Thomas couldn’t see Daphne. He waded toward the edge of his own pool to check, and that’s when he realized that the thing in Sister Audrey’s hands was Daphne’s little blue-flowered body.
Later, he couldn’t remember how he got out of the water so fast. It almost seemed he was lifted straight up. Then he was running, with the sharp, stubbly grass pricking his bare feet, and then he was flying through the air as level as a Frisbee and belly flopping into the baby pool where Daphne lay on her stomach, smiling, making splashy little pretend-swim motions while Sister Audrey supported her.
He grabbed hold of Daphne anyway. (It seemed he’d been wound with a key and had to follow through with this.) He struggled to his feet, staggering a bit, hanging onto her even though she squirmed and protested. “You leave her alone,” he told Sister Audrey. Sister Audrey stared at him; her mouth was partway open. Thomas hauled Daphne out of the pool, dumped her in a heap, brushed off his hands all businesslike, and then strode back to the big pool.
As soon as he was in the water, the others crowded around him asking, “What’d she do? What happened?” Sister Myra looked confused. (For once, she had missed something.) Thomas said, “I just don’t like her messing with my little sister, is all.” He set his jaw and gazed beyond them, over toward the baby pool. Sister Audrey was standing on dry ground now. She was concentrating on stepping back into her flip-flops, and something about her lowered head and her meek, blind smile made Thomas’s stomach all at once start hurting. He turned away. “Boy, you were out of here,” Dermott Kyle said admiringly.
“Oh, well, you do what you got to do,” Thomas told him.
Toweled dry and dressed, their swimsuits hanging on the line outdoors and their hair still damp, they gathered for Devotions. Sister Myra said, “Dear Lord, thank You for this day of fellowship and listen now to our silent prayers,” and then she left a long, long space afterward. Silent prayers were sort of like Afternoon Swim; you had the feeling she was too worn out to make the effort anymore. Everyone was worn out. Still, Thomas tried. He bowed his head and closed his eyes and prayed