Swim to Me (27 page)

Thelma heard the excitement growing in Hanratty's voice, and it made her anxious. She began picking at a spot on her windbreaker, where there was a flaw in the fabric.

Hanratty fixed his gaze on Roy, who was looking down at his hands, which he was rubbing together. He hadn't been aware that his boss had picked up on his relationship with Nehru.

“I'm sure among all of our creative efforts, we can figure out a way to have the elephants and the mermaids interact in the water in such a way that would draw crowds from all over the state. All over the country, even.”

Delores rolled her eyes. First that jerk Sommers makes her sit in a bathtub on television, now this yo-yo has her swimming with elephants. There was no way that was going to happen.

Thelma finally spoke up: “Elephants and mermaids. Honestly, Mr. Hanratty, I think you're taking this a little too far. Even for a circus impresario.”

Roy lifted his head and stared into Hanratty's shoulder as he said, “Nehru's nearly forty. That would be asking an awful lot of her.”

Then Delores spoke. “I'm the one who's supposed to get into the
water with the elephant. Does anyone care what I think? I'm not a huge elephant fan. In fact, I think they're kind of creepy. I'd just as soon stay underwater and leave the elephants on the land.”

Hanratty closed his eyes. “You can't see it, can you?” he said, sounding as if he were in pain.

It was true. Only Hanratty found joy in the far-flung possibilities.

“Don't you get it?” he asked. “The mermaid—half animal, half human—and the elephant, the grandest creature in the animal kingdom. It is mythic in its proportion. The mind's eye will take in the magic; it's our own dullness and cynicism that turns it away.”

Thelma rested her chin on her thumbs and held her hands prayerlike against her face. Hanratty's frustration was palpable to her. Usually it was she who saw what others were too lazy or unwilling to comprehend. It touched her how much he cared. She and Hanratty were cut from similar cloth but for one thing: he was a true showman. She aspired to that, but she knew that her talent lay in being a shrewd businesswoman and a good manager. She thought about Alan Sommers, who seemed so slight in comparison. Sommers was a marketer, a man who understood what was commercially viable. But Dave Hanratty, he was the real thing. She realized that, until today, she had never met anyone like him.

Roy was lost in the worry that his job was at stake. He could care for the animals and do what was required around the circus. But Hanratty was talking about a performance, a performance that people from all over the country might come to see. He would be working with his daughter, with whom he'd not shared even a single word in two years. Already he had done things beyond his wildest dreams. What more would be asked of him? What more could he ask of himself?

But it was Delores, now mesmerized by Hanratty's words, who began to see what he saw and relish the possibilities. Where she was
strident a few moments earlier, she now spoke as if waking from a dream. “It wouldn't just be the elephant and the mermaids,” she said. “There are the turtles and the dolphins and . . .” She paused, finishing the sentence to herself. “This could be the greatest thing that ever happened here!”

Thelma imagined the headlines in the papers and the pictures they would run. Attendance would increase, as it had after “The Merfather.” Maybe she could finally afford to rebuild the amphitheater, never mind the pump. After all of the years that she'd struggled to keep Weeki Wachee going, this stranger who had suddenly walked in the door could pin this place permanently on the map. If I were a more sentimental person, I would weep, she thought. But there were the practical issues to consider.

“Supposing that this could happen,” she said. “What would we need to do to house elephants on the premises? Where would they stay when they were not swimming?”

Hanratty waved his hand as if he were brushing aside crumbs. “These are details we can attend to. The real question is: how do we make this as spectacular as it can be?”

There were ten elephants in Hanratty's Circus. Roy knew that since Nehru was the matriarch of the group, whatever she did the others would follow. Then a thought, as ridiculous as Lucy herself, leapt into his mind. He had often seen the reckless and adorable chimp riding on the back of one of the elephants. Suddenly, he saw a flotilla of elephants and dolphins and manatees and mermaids. If Noah were putting together an ark in central Florida, this would be it. Hanratty, he realized, was encouraging everyone to go beyond their boundaries. Anything was possible. For a man who'd given up everything because he'd felt suffocated and trapped, this was as thrilling as landing on the far side of the moon.

The four of them sat looking at each other in silence, all of them imagining possibilities they had never imagined before.

Lost in the tapestry, Delores closed her eyes; when Hanratty clapped his hands together, she nearly jumped out of her skin. “That's it, now you're with me!” he shouted. “Have they ever seen anything like this up at Disney? Anywhere else in the world? I think not.”

They filed out of Thelma's office, still daydreaming. Roy Walker was the one who broke the silence as he said to his daughter, “This certainly ain't the Bronx.”

L
ATER THAT NIGHT,
when Roy went to the Giant Café for a cup of coffee and a piece of pie, Rex asked him how it had gone with his daughter. Roy chewed as he thought about it, then swallowed hard. “We never really talked. Hanratty came up with some fantastic scheme for combining the mermaids and the circus and we were all so overwhelmed by it that the conversation never turned to anything else. Before we knew it, they had to do a show and we had to get back here and that was that. Here's the strange thing, Rex—she and I may end up working together.”

“Sometimes it's more about doing than talking,” said Rex. “If you're going to work with her, well then, that would be the way to let her know who you are, to get to know each other again.”

W
HEN
M
OLLY ASKED
D
ELORES
how it had gone with her father, Delores told her that he was smaller than she'd remembered. “When I was little, he was always flying off the handle, fighting with my mom. He seemed scary and so much bigger to me then. He's actually a little guy with a lot of muscles. He was shy around me. He wouldn't say anything, even when I said something stupid
like, ‘Hey, remember me?' But then, this guy who's his boss, Mr. Hanratty, came up with the most amazing idea and we all kind of got swept up in it. Even Thelma.”

Delores told Molly about the elephants and the mermaids in the water. Then she paused. “Here's something I thought about, and you have to cross your heart and swear to God that you won't tell anyone. I'm secretly hoping that somehow Westie can be part of it. Maybe he could come down here for a while, or something. We could teach him to swim. He could be in the show. My mom's always complaining about how hard it is to raise a kid by herself. Who knows? Maybe she'd even like the idea.”

The whole time Delores talked, Molly never looked up from the shirt that she was ironing. Even when Delores said, “You think I'm off my rocker, don't you?” Molly kept her eyes fixed on the shirt. “Not really,” she said.

When the call came from her mother, Delores was out at the Springs working with the elephants. For the past three months, Wulf the elephant trainer had taught the elephants to swim downstream in formation: Nehru in front; two behind her; three behind them; and four at the end. Despite their heft, the elephants had taken happily to the water, sometimes squirting it through their trunks. They had learned how to swim with the mermaids around them and didn't seem fazed by the occasional manatee or turtle that joined the procession. In order to house the elephants at the Springs, as Hanratty had decided they should, some of the woods in the back of the park had been cleared and an Elephant House was being built. It was to be a large cement structure with overhead fans and big openings, so that it would be airy and cool in even the most desperate heat.

Roy followed the progress of the Elephant House avidly, eager for its completion. There would be room for the elephants to wander, which meant no more shackles. Nehru's freedom felt personal to him, and he did what he could to convey to her that it was close at hand.

Sometimes the little sayings from fortune cookies put into words feelings he had trouble articulating himself. He'd tuck them into
his wallet or slip them into his pocket and it could be months, even years, before he'd find them again. Just the other day, he'd found one in the back of his Dopp kit that said:
The things that are the most precious are not the things we own, but the things we keep.
That was exactly how he felt about Nehru. Of course he didn't own her, but he felt it was an honor to be her keeper.

Delores would watch her father with the elephant, how he leaned in close to her and murmured things that only the elephant could hear. Nehru had a peculiar stance—knees bent as if she were lurching forward. It seemed as if the two of them might fall into each other. This morning, Delores had pointed them out to Wulf: “They look like they're telling secrets,” she said. Wulf was German and, by nature, practical. “Ach no. Nehru came from India on a boat. She was packed in the container very tight—this is why she stands in such a way.” Maybe he was right, but Delores saw what she saw and it gave her a pang to realize how at ease and intimate her father was with the elephant.

The sight of Adrienne running toward her momentarily distracted her. Adrienne ran like a girl, hands flapping in the air. She was so out of breath, she couldn't complete a sentence. “Phone call. Thelma's office,” she panted in her reedy voice. Delores climbed the sloping hill toward the office. It was one of those days in early August when, even if she had tried to run, the punishing sun and humidity would have pushed back at her. By the time she picked up the phone in Thelma's office, the sweat was dripping down her arms. The last thing she felt like doing was talking on the phone.

“Hello,” she said flatly.

Her mother didn't bother with a hello, she just launched right into what she had to say.

“Listen, hon, I need help. I could really use you to come up here for a few days. Between the jobs, and trying to find babysitters
for Westie, I just can't cope. Just a few days so at least I could find someone for Westie.”

“Sure,” said Delores, already filled with dread. “I haven't been home in ages.”

T
HAT NIGHT
, D
ELORES
sat in between Lester and Molly at dinner. She pushed her meatloaf from one side of the plate to the other, finally giving up trying to eat.

“You okay?” asked Molly.

“I don't know, I guess I am,” she answered.

There was so much that wasn't being said right now. She hadn't told any of the others, except Molly, that the short, quiet guy who took care of the elephants was her father. Every day, she saw her father, and still they hadn't spoken. That was ridiculous. If he wouldn't initiate it, she would. But good grief, what was she supposed to say?

In her preoccupation, Delores hadn't noticed how Lester had been watching her. She could hear concern in his voice when he asked, “Wanna go sit out on the rock? It's pretty out there this time of day.”

“Good idea,” she said, looking at the clock. “I have a half hour before I need to get to WGUP. Let's get out of here.”

They climbed onto Lester's rock and sat silently watching the sun set. The past few weeks the temperature had been steadily in the midnineties; the humidity, the same. It was the kind of heat that got inside you and festered and Delores was beginning to dread her weather reports, describing “sizzlers” and “scorchers” night after night.

They sat in silence until Delores turned to him. “I have something to tell you that I hope you won't tell anyone else for now.”

“We don't tell each other's secrets, remember?” he said.

“Okay then, here goes.” She told Lester the whole story about the circus, and how her father was the short, stocky guy who cleaned up after the elephants.

Lester did a double take. “The guy with the baseball cap? That's your father?”

“Yup, that's him,” she said.

“The one who's built like an Airstream? Holy cow! I mean, you're hardly built like an Airstream. Well, you know what I mean.”

“In any case, the woman who took care of my little brother died,” Delores said, and then whispered: “Breast cancer. And I promised my mother,” she continued, “that I'd go up there for a few days and help out, which I'm really not looking forward to. Except for one thing. And you've really got to cross your heart and swear to God not to tell anyone what I'm about to tell you.” Lester nodded solemnly.

Delores told him her idea to bring Westie back to Weekie Wachee, just for a little while. As she spoke, she studied his face, waiting for him to laugh or raise an eyebrow or do something to betray how her words struck him. “You think I'm nuts, don't you?” she asked, when she had finished.

“No, I don't,” he answered. “I think you're the boldest person I've ever met.”

“You are so great,” she said, leaning over and kissing him on the cheek. “So, you really don't think I'm crazy?”

Lester's face reddened. Delores thought about how Scary Sheila had called him “Lester the Lobster” behind his back. She had thought it cruel at the time, but it did make sense.

“Well, while we're on the subject of crazy,” said Lester. “Here's a really crazy idea. Why don't I come up to New York with you? I've never been to New York. Plus, I've got a birthday coming up, so this could be the perfect present for me. My father's been bugging
me to ‘widen my horizons.' That's what he's always saying, ‘Being a merman is not an occupation for a young man. You need to widen your horizons.' Going to New York would certainly do that, don't you think? I don't know, maybe you think it's a bad idea. Of course, if you do, I won't come.” Lester looked away, so as not to read any rejection on her face.