"You give the kids such a nice home and all, Anita." "I do what I can do. I do the best I can." "Look at the way she's dressed. I sent money. Why don't you spend some of it on clothes. Or does Doyle drink it?" "There's no reason for her to wear her good stuff around the house. What do you want here, anyway? What did you come around here for?" She gestured toward me with her head. "He was here asking about you. I told him where to look. I guess he found you there, all right." "In the big sinful city. Good God, Anita. Come off it. It eats on you that you never figured it out right. You never worked it so you got up there. Now you've got Doyle and look at you. You're fat and you're ugly and you're dirty." The child began to cry again. Anita turned and slapped her across the face and sent her back into the house. She turned back to Antoinette, her face pale. "You can't come in my house." "I wouldn't put my foot in that shack, Anita. Are the oars in the shed?" "What do you want with oars?" "I'm taking that boat. There's something I want to show my friend." "What do you mean? You can't use any of the boats." "Maybe you want to try and stop me? I'm using a boat. I'm taking a boat." "You go out on the river today you'll drownd yourself. Look at it. Take a good look at it." We turned and looked at the river. The gray water raced by. It had a soapy look. The boil of the current looked vicious. "I've been out in worse than that and you know it. Is the shed locked?" "No," Anita said sullenly. "Come on, Tal," Antoinette said. I followed her to the shed. She selected a pair of oars, measured them to make certain she had mates. We went to the overturned boat. We righted it. It was heavy. She tried the oars in the locks to be certain they would fit. She got on one side and I got on the other and we slid the boat stern first down the muddy bank to the water. We put it half in the water. The current caught at it, boiling around the stern. Antoinette straightened up and looked at the river. Anita was watching us from the porch. The pale face of the little girl watched us from a cracked window. "It's pretty damn rough," Antoinette said. "We won't have much trouble getting down to the island." "Island?" "Right down there. See it? That's where we're going." The island was about three hundred yards downstream. It was perhaps three hundred feet long and half as wide. It was rocky and wooded. It split the river into two narrow areas of roaring turbulence. "I don't think we can make it back to here. We can walk the boat down the shore and land further down when we leave. Then walk back up to the car and tell them where the boat is. They can get it when the river quiets down. The worst part is going to be right at the start. Let's get it parallel to the shore, Tal." We struggled with the boat. She slipped on the muddy bank and sat down hard and cursed. I held the stern. The bow was pointed downstream.