The forest was utterly still, not even the caw of a blue jay. Martha stood with her back to the lake, Dr. Grizby smiling at her with his big white teeth. The world must be a pretty good place with teeth like that, Martha thought.
“Beautiful day,” he said.
“Yes. Lovely.”
Then Cede was there, standing nude, next to them. First he wasn’t there, then he was, like the forest had spit him out and this was where he landed. She hadn’t heard him approach. She hadn’t known that about him, his ability to be quiet like an Indian, something she knew how to do also. She remembered her brother telling her, “You have to walk like an Indian, so soft you don’t bend the grass,” the both of them having climbed out the bedroom window to sneak away for the night. “If Dad catches us he’ll kill you.” It was always “you” he would kill, not “me” or “us,” as if her brother was immune. She believed him, learned to walk so softly the grass remained upright under her feet. She could have run away, but never did. Her father was the devil she knew, and at least it was better than the ones she didn’t, which seemed to Martha just about everybody.
“Swimming in the buff, huh?” Dr. Grizby said. “A fine thing to do.”
What was it about this man that made everything so easy? You have horrible teeth, and a week later they’re the envy of all. A man with angel wings on his back creeps out of the woods naked and what he’s doing is a fine thing.