You Are Always Safe With Me by Merrill Joan Gerber Read Free Book Online Page B

my daughter with her oboe. I wish we had cliff tombs in the US. I would have buried her high on a mountain and not underground.”
    “Oh, I didn’t know,” Lilly said. “I’m so sorry.”
    “How could you know? No one on this boat knows.”
    “How old was your daughter…when she died?”
    “Seventeen. And let me clear it up right away, she wasn’t on drugs, and she didn’t drive her car into a tree. She had some kind of overwhelming infection. She died in three days time, and nothing could help her.”
    “When did this happen?”
    “It’s five years now. I know it’s going to get better someday. After all, I tell my patients that grief always gets better with time.” She stared down into the water. “Lilly, it’s a crock of shit. It doesn’t get better. The pain never goes away.”
    “My father died three months ago,” Lilly offered. It seemed a paltry thing to say, a trade when no trade was required.
    “I know, your mother told me. She manages to keep a very stiff upper lip.”
    “That’s her nature,” Lilly said… “or her Southern upbringing.”
    “She doesn’t seem unhappy,” Marianne said. “Lance is paying her a lot of attention. It’s kind of sweet.”
    “I guess…”
    “But Izak…” Marianne said suddenly. “Now that’s a man to look at. That’s a man who could make you forget your troubles.”
    “I really hadn’t considered him in that light,” Lilly said.
    “Well, you should,” Marianne said. “He’s worth considering…if anything is.”
    She began to climb up the ladder. “I’m famished already. I eat like a pig here, and then I have to swim it off. It’s the only way I can allow myself to eat Morat’s cooking.”
    *
    For a long while, Lilly floated on her back under the canopy of cloudless sky. When she finally ascended the ladder, she came upon a scene that caused her heart to skip a beat. Marianne, still in her bathing suit, was lying prone on a foam cushion of the foredeck and Izak was straddling her, his knees on either side of her thighs. Her face was turned to the side in such a way that she could see Lilly as she came up the ladder.
    “Look at me, Lilly! I learned Izak used to be a professional masseur, so I pressed him into action.”
    “I see that,” Lilly said.
    Izak glanced up at her, but then went back to work, pouring oil on Marianne’s back, pressing his fingers up and down the length of her spine, rolling his thumbs along the muscles of her back. His face was without expression; he looked as he looked each morning when he set out the plates for breakfast or hosed the wooden deck to keep the tar sealant moist and to prevent the wood from drying out.
    “God that feels so good,” Marianne said. “This man knows his business.”
    “I want to be next,” Jack Cotton called out. He and his wife had come up from below and were standing arm in arm, watching Izak perform the massage.
    Lilly felt somewhat dizzy, from the swim, from the heat of the sun, from seeing Izak on his hands and knees that way, like an animal. She had a sudden image of his private parts hanging down, soft and pink, replete with the seeds of life.
    “I want to be next,” Jane Cotton begged. “Please, Izak, can I be next?”
    Izak looked up and his eyes landed on Lilly. “You,” he said, bending his head once toward her. “You be the next.”
    *
    This was a test, she knew. Others would gather round, her mother would appear and watch. Harrison and Gerta would return from their kayaking and Gerta—in her tiny bikini—would observe Lilly with her wide, substantial buttocks on display for all to see. Every humiliation in her life came back to her and instructed her to demur, to refuse, to keep her dignity and go down the five steps to the galley, another five steps to her stateroom, to dress modestly for lunch, to appear cool and collected, with her hair combed and a touch of lipstick on her mouth.
    She stood rooted to the deck, smiling stupidly. “Okay,” she said softly.