Evelyn looked at him, wanting to cry because he was so solemn and so serious, his face that of a little boy trying to explain something important to an adult and not sure of being understood. She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the mouth and said, “I still don’t know if I’m ever gonna get used to hearing you talk when your lips don’t move.”
He put his arms around her and kissed her soundly. “This way I can kiss you and tell you funny stories at the same time. Did you hear the one about the traveling freak show and the farmer’s daughter?”
She pushed him away, grimacing and laughing at the same time. He sat very still and frowned in concentration.
“Evelyn Bradley,” the voice said in her ear and his lips formed the words. “You are the most beautiful thing in the world, and I love you.” He smiled with satisfaction. Then he fell back on the sand with a groan. “That’s too much trouble.”
She growled and fell on him, knocking the wind out of him. He grabbed her and rolled. She yipped. When they stopped, his face was over hers. He kissed her and said, his mouth forming the words, “How was it?”
“The kiss?”
“No. My moving mouth.”
“Oh. Pretty good. But your voice is still in my ear.”
He nodded, then concentrated. “Evelyn Bradley, you are the most beautiful thing in the world, and I love you.” He cocked his head. “Well?”
She grinned. “Not bad. Only, your voice seemed to be coming from everywhere at once.”
He returned her grin. “I told you I’d have to practice.” He rolled off her and lay beside her, snuggling against her. “I’ll have to get it right. I can’t go around talking in everybody’s ear. It might make ’em a little nervous. I need to get it so I can do it without thinking about it.”
She turned her face against his hair. “You can do it,” she said.
They lay like that for a while, enjoying the feel of exhilaration turning to contentment.
“Angel,” she asked softly after a time, “is your name really Angel?”
“It’s the only one I ever heard.” She felt him shrug.
“Where were you before you joined the show?”
‘I’ve always been with the show.”
“No you weren’t. Henry said you were about five years old when Haverstock found you.”
“I don’t remember it.”
“You can’t remember anything before he found you?”
“No.”
“You ought to be able to. I can remember when I was three. I can remember a dog we had that died. She was black with a white throat and her name was Lady. I don’t really remember her name. Mama told me it was Lady. But I remember her dying and Daddy burying her behind the barn. How far back can you remember?”
She felt him shrug again. “I don’t know. All the days were alike. We were either traveling in the wagons or set up in some small town for a show. In the winter Haverstock would get a house somewhere away from things and we would stay there. All the days were alike. How can you tell one from the other?”
She turned on her side to face him and put her hand on the back of his neck, running her fingers up into his hair. They lay like that for a while in drowsy peace.
Evelyn said, “Your real name is probably Horatio Prendergast, or something like that.” She felt him smile against her neck.
“I’m really the lost heir to the Vanderbilt millions, kidnapped by gypsies as a mere tad.” He sat up suddenly and grinned down at her. “Someday, someone will notice the Vanderbilt birthmark on my shoulder and I will be united with my family and my millions and live happily ever after. Let’s go for a swim.”
“I thought you didn’t want to move.”
“I have tremendous recuperative powers.” He stood up and reached his hand down to her. She took it and he pulled her up.
“We can’t swim here,” she said. “The water isn’t deep enough.”
“Is there a place?”
She pointed. “Down there a couple of miles closer to town, but there may be somebody there. The kids swim there all the time.”
“Let’s go see,” he said, trying to make his voice sound as if it were coming from his mouth. “Let me know when I get it right.”
“Better. That time it came from about three feet behind you. You’d make a good ventriloquist,” she said and grinned. “Do you really want to go swimming? It’s a long walk.”
He grinned at her and raised his eyebrows.
She laughed. “Okay. I told you I needed time to get used to it.”
He took her hand and they skimmed over the water like dragonflies.
About two miles southwest of Hawley, Crooked Creek made a sharp bend to the north. The eddying movement of the water had scooped deeply into the soft bottom and it had been a favorite swimming hole for as long as most people around could remember. A large old cottonwood clung tenaciously to the bank, giving shade and a jumping-in place to the swimmers. Two ropes hung from a branch paralleling the edge of the water, one short and gray and frazzled at the end where it had broken years before, and the other new, hanging almost to the ground with several knots tied in it.
Angel looked around appreciatively, then took off his shirt. Evelyn watched the muscles flow under his ivory skin as he removed his shoes and pants. He stood there in his undershorts, looking at her with a slight smile, his eyes sending a ruby challenge.
She kicked off her shoes. Her mouth was defiant, but her eyes were laughing. She rolled off her lisle stockings, never breaking eye contact with him. She stepped out of her dress, pulled her chemise over her head, and made a dainty pirouette in her step-ins and bandeau. Then she broke for the water in a dead run and jumped in.
Angel watched her, grinning, then went to the rope hanging from the tree. He grasped it just above his head and gave it an experimental tug. Evelyn watched him from the water, which was now up to her chin. With the rope in his hand he climbed higher up the bank. He turned, grabbed the rope with both hands, lifted his feet, and swung out across the water. He swung higher and higher, until he was almost upside down. Then he stopped and hang there, grinning down at her. She laughed and made a face. Suddenly he plummeted straight down in a flurry of arms and legs, sending the water over her in a wave.
She turned her head to keep from taking the wave in her face. When she looked back, he had bobbed to the surface, spluttering.
“I just thought of something,” his voice said in her ear. “Do I know how to swim?”
“It doesn’t make much difference, does it?” she said and laughed.
He grinned and shrugged. Then he got a woebegone, pitiful expression on his face and began to sink. He raised one hand, gave her a sorrowful wave, and slipped slowly beneath the water. The next thing she knew, he had her by the ankles, pulling her under.
They laughed and splashed and played in the water like two otters until they were tired. Then they lay on the sand, dozing, letting the sun dry their bodies.
After a while, Evelyn raised up on her elbow and looked at Angel’s face, memorizing every surface. His eyes were closed as if he were asleep. She scooped up a handful of sand and dribbled it on his chest, but the sand stopped an inch from his skin and lay suspended in the air. She looked at his face with narrowed eyes, but he still seemed to be asleep. She looked at the sand and then back at his face. Then she slapped him on the stomach.
“Stop that!” she said.