27. Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Seven
T he gnarled fist jabbed in the direction of the lake. Seb bent down in front of Dad’s wheelchair and spoke to him in quiet Spanish. He then waited patiently as Dad forced words from between his stubborn lips. Seb walked over to where Cass and I stood beside the jetty.
‘Alberto would like to go out on the lake.’
I looked at Cass. ‘I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.’
‘Is he at risk of falling ill?’ asked Seb.
‘Well, I suppose technically he could have another stroke, but no, it’s more how we’d get him in the boat. What do you think, Cass?’
Cass shrugged. ‘I’m not sure.’ She peered down into the water where the small rowing boat sat bobbing on the water. ‘There’s no way we could get him in from here. Would it be possible to bring the boat up onto the beach and get him in that way?’
‘Yes, quite possible. Liv, would that be OK with you?’
Seb had placed a hand on my arm, and I flushed as Cass saw it and smirked. ‘If you think it’s doable, then I don’t see why not.’
‘There won’t be room in there for all of us,’ said Cass. ‘How about I help you get Dad into the boat, then you two go out on the water with him and I’ll head back to the farm and check on the kids. Will you be all right helping Liv get Dad back up to the farmhouse after, Seb?’
‘Yeah, sure. But if you’d rather go out in the boat, I don’t mind going up and minding the kids?’
‘God, I wouldn’t inflict that on you,’ said Cass, ‘and besides, there’s no way we’d be able to wheel Dad back up the track without you.’
‘OK, if you’re sure.’
Seb untied the boat from its moorings and pulled it up onto the beach. Although the wheelchair was heavy and ungainly, Dad himself was light, his once strong muscles wasting away since the stroke stole his movement. Seb lifted Dad easily into his arms, and placed him in the front of the boat, where he could lean against the gunwale.
‘Wait here with your dad,’ said Seb. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’ He ran off toward Pat’s cabin, appearing minutes later with a selection of cushions.
‘You’re my guest of honour, Alberto. I thought the least you deserved was a little comfort.’
Seb arranged the cushions around Dad to make sure he was secure and not at risk of falling. We all knew the cushions were for Dad’s safety rather than comfort, but the way Seb had retained Dad’s dignity with his pretence brought a lump to my throat.
‘Liv, you sit in the back by the tiller. I’ll give us a push off, then climb in the middle with the oars.’
I took up my position in the boat and Seb pushed hard against it, the sound of gravel on wood soon replaced by the splash of water. Seb waded through the shallows, climbed into the boat and picked up the oars.
From the shore, Cass whooped and cheered. I turned to look at her and saw tears rolling down her cheeks. I was keeping my own in check, just. To see Dad out of his nursing home was one thing, to see him out on a lake, his eyes bright, a breeze teasing his hair was quite another.
Seb’s muscles strained as the oars sliced through the water, peppering jewel-like droplets onto the lake’s surface as the wood rotated in the air. He kept up a stream of fluent Spanish. My language skills had grown rusty from lack of use, but I could follow enough to know he was telling Dad all about the lake project, and specifically my role in it. Dad’s face was creased in a wide smile, his eyes watering, although whether from the breeze or tears was impossible to tell.
At the far end of the lake, Seb paused his rowing, allowing the boat to bob lazily beneath branches which were displaying the first buds of spring leaves. Insects teased the lake’s surface, performing acrobatic displays for us in the unusually warm spring sunshine.
‘Did I tell you about my swimming, Dad?’
Dad shook his head.
‘Harry’s had me swimming in this lake every morning since I got here.’
Dad mimed an exaggerated shiver.
‘Yes, it’s bloody freezing. Harry’s promised me it will warm up in the summer, but I’m not sure I believe her. Mum and Dad met at a lake, didn’t you, Dad?’
Dad nodded, a faraway look in his eyes.
Seb turned to Dad. ‘Was that in Spain?’
Dad shook his head.
‘It was at Lake Garda in Italy,’ I said. ‘Me and Cass used to love hearing the story. Is it OK if I tell it, Dad?’ Dad smiled by way of an answer. ‘They were both eighteen, just finished school and they’d each travelled to Lake Garda to work in a hotel for the summer. Mum was waitressing, Dad was behind the bar. Mum couldn’t speak Spanish back then, and Dad had very little English, so they communicated in the little Italian they both knew. My mum always used to say Dad wooed her by talking about pasta, as he’d only made it as far as the food module in his Italian classes. Anyway, by the end of the summer, they were engaged.’
‘Engaged?’ Seb turned to Dad. ‘How on earth did you manage that when you couldn’t speak the same language?’ Dad did his best attempt at a raised eyebrow, and Seb laughed. ‘Alberto, you sly old dog.’
‘Ro…romantic,’ said Dad.
‘Anyway,’ I said, keen to move the conversation on from my dad’s non-verbal seduction techniques. ‘Dad followed Mum back to England and the rest, as they say, is history.’
‘Did you ever go back to Lake Garda as a family?’
‘No, me and Cass begged and begged. But even if we’d had the money, I think Mum and Dad wanted to keep it as their special place. Is that right?’
Dad nodded, his eyes cloudy as he travelled back to a time and place when his body had worked properly, and he still had the love of his life by his side. I watched him, wondering if I’d ever get to experience a love like my parents had shared. Don’t get me wrong, their marriage wasn’t perfect, but at the heart of it was a deep respect and friendship that always saw them through challenging times. I swallowed a lump in my throat as I remembered the way mum and dad would dance around the house together, play Scrabble in the evening, take turns to make each other cups of tea in the morning. Simple gestures of love that were taken for granted until they were gone.
Sensing the shift in mood, Seb attempted to bring us back to the present. ‘I’m afraid our lake can’t compete with Lake Garda in size or grandeur, but I’m hopeful we can create some special memories of our own here.’
‘Un lugar feliz. With… Liv,’ said Dad.
Seb’s cheeks flared red, and he almost dropped his oars. ‘Oh, um, well…’
‘He was talking about the project, Dad. We’re going to make amazing memories with the people who come and stay here.’
‘To… gether.’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Together.’ Unable to look at Seb, I focused my gaze over his shoulder to where my dad sat, head tilted to the sky, his skin less creased than I had seen in a long time. If I ever found even a fraction of the love my parents had shared, I’d be happy with my lot.