Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Autumn
As I wrestled with Bethany’s pink and blue swim cap, I had a pang of homesickness.
It didn’t happen very often, but the summers I’d spent lifeguarding back in Oregon had been fun—perhaps the only fun bit of life in Oregon.
I was bummed I wasn’t going to be in the water today.
Bethany’s swimming class didn’t have parents and caregivers in the water with the students once they’d reached four.
An image of Gabriel in swim trunks flashed into my brain. Perhaps I should suggest both of us take Bethany swimming some time.
Neither of us had brought up the way he came after me last weekend.
He’d been in bed when I’d gotten home that night, and I’d barely seen him this week.
When we crossed paths in the kitchen after Bethany was asleep, he’d grunted at me before heading straight to his locked door, still without giving me any clues to what he was doing in there.
I had a bad case of Gabriel Chase Whiplash. One minute he was caring and intimate and a little flirtatious. The next he was all cold and haughty and brick walls. I wasn’t sure which one was the real him. But I bet they’d both look great in a swimming pool.
“There,” I said, tucking the last of Bethany’s hair up into the cap. Her hair was going to look like she’d been back combing like an extra in Hairspray, but we’d cross that bridge when we came to it.
“You’re going to watch me?” Bethany asked, crossing her hands over her chest and hopping from foot to foot.
“Of course. Wouldn’t miss it, and I’m going to take lots of photos for your daddy.” I gathered up Bethany’s things, put them in a locker, and then grabbed my bag. “You ready?”
She shivered and then grinned. “Yup.”
I cloaked her towel around her shoulders, took her hand and we made our way out to the seated area where the parents and nannies stayed to watch. I glanced around, hoping that this lesson there would be a lifeguard on duty.
“You need a drink?” I asked, as I dumped my bag on a seat nearest the steps.
“No thank you. I don’t want to wee wee in the pool.”
“If you’re thirsty, you should have a drink. You can just ask your teacher to excuse you if you need to wee wee.”
“I’m not.” She shook her head, and I made a mental note to encourage her to drink in the lead-up to arriving to her next lesson.
I didn’t want her dehydrated. It was only a forty-minute lesson, but she needed to be alert the entire time.
“I really want to dive from the edge again. You’ll take a picture of me jumping in for Daddy? ”
“I will, Bethany, but I want you to listen to your teacher and only dive when she tells you to.”
She nodded excitedly and I smiled, glancing around for that lifeguard I kinda knew wasn’t going to arrive. The lesson only had ten children and two instructors, but it niggled me there wasn’t someone outside the water who was looking over everything.
The children filed out one after another and lined up at the edge of the pool.
It was such a shame Gabriel wasn’t here.
He’d be so proud of Bethany. She was confident and sensible and when she dipped to whisper to the girl who was standing next to her, I knew she was encouraging her.
She was a good kid. Well behaved. Kind. And she loved her daddy.
The same as last week, the class started with some basic safety reminders similar to the kids’ lessons back in Oregon, and then just like last week, the instructor in the swimsuit slipped into the pool, while the other kept her red shorts on and stayed poolside.
Bethany glanced over at me as the kids at the far end of the line began to jump into the pool from standing up. I nodded, trying to be encouraging. I knew she’d prefer to try a sitting dive, but she’d get a chance later on.
She jumped in and I got the perfect, mid-air shot that Gabriel would love.
He’d told me a couple of times that the next best thing to being with Bethany himself was getting the pictures I took.
And while being a nanny wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind for a job, getting feedback like that—helping a father enjoy his child—was far more rewarding than I expected.
I was lucky to know Bethany and Gabriel.
Lucky to get to spend time with them both. Being paid was a bonus.
My phone buzzed and I glanced down to see a message from Hollie. I’d pick it up later. I wanted to focus on Bethany and her lesson and . . . I just felt better knowing I had my eye on her at all times.
They started the lesson having each student take turns collecting a colored band from the bottom of the pool.
The water came up to their chests, so they were never out of their depth, but it was a good exercise for water confidence from what I could tell.
The kids were well-behaved and seemed to be enjoying themselves, taking huge breaths before they sank below the surface.
Next was five-meter swimming. When it was Bethany’s turn, she swam like a champ, albeit a champ with a haphazard doggie paddle.
As soon as she touched the side, she looked over at me, checking I had seen her. I grinned and gave her a thumbs-up.
The boy who was up next swam half of the five meters underwater and almost reached the side before changing course and swimming into Bethany.
He began pulling at her in a slightly panicky way.
I was already on my feet when the instructor in the pool lifted the boy up and out of the water, sitting him on the side.
I exhaled and sat back down. Jesus, I wished I was just in there with her. I might talk to Gabriel about taking her swimming at weekends or something. The sooner she swam strongly, the better.
Bethany waited patiently until the last fifteen minutes of the session, which was when they started the sitting dives.
She’d been so excited last time when she’d managed to go headfirst into the pool that she’d been talking about doing it again all week.
Only a few kids had managed it last time.
Some had just refused and sat and watched.
Others had tried but ended up inelegantly shuffling into the water feet first.
“Hands either side of your ears and lay one hand over the other.” The instructor in red shorts on the side of the pool wandered from one end of the row of ten children to the other.
The first child got the go-ahead to dive, and I kept my eye on Bethany, who would be one of the last to go.
She looked like she was chatting to herself and kept positioning her arms and then relaxing them, practicing her form.
She was so darn cute. She did it again and this time, her body started to move forward, almost as if she was going to go into the water, but she shifted and brought her arms down.
Sit back, I wanted to shout. Be patient and wait your turn.
My eyes flitted to the other end of the line-up of four-year-olds sitting on the side, and another child plopped into the pool, taking the attention of both the instructor in the pool and Miss Red Shorts on the side.
The instructor in the pool helped the child who had just dived out of the pool while the instructor on the side coached the one about to enter the water.
Bethany brought her arms up again into position and leaned forward, but this time she’d gone too far.
I could see the moment her balance failed her.
She glanced at me as I stood up, horror splashed across her face—not because she was in danger, but because she knew she was about to go into the pool when it wasn’t her turn.
She tried to regain her balance, turning awkwardly, but instead of regaining her feet, she slipped into the water, hitting her head on the side with an almighty clunk on the way in.
Time slowed and it felt as if everything had been covered in molasses. I dived into the water from the other side of the pool and felt her tiny body in my arms before she hit the bottom.
I was vaguely aware of shrieking as I broke the surface.
“Miss Lumen, what do you think—”
I ignored everything but Bethany, lying her on the edge of the pool. She was unconscious. The blow to the head had knocked her out. I leapt out and rearranged her. People came toward us—I didn’t know if it was children or the instructors—and I was vaguely aware of someone screaming.
“Call an ambulance,” I yelled.
Bethany’s chest seemed to rise and fall but I put my hand on her belly to make sure. She was breathing, thank God, and I moved her onto her side, pulling her head back so she didn’t swallow her tongue just like I’d been taught.
“Why isn’t she moving?” I heard a child ask.
“Has someone called a goddamned ambulance?” I screamed.