Page 58 of Class Act

“Caller?” I looked to Ford.

“Here are the rules. You get onto the diving board and jump off. Once you’re in the air, Henry will call out what you’re supposed to do. He’ll call dive or jump—which is feet first—or cannon ball or jumping jacks. You get the idea. You have to do whatever he calls before you hit the water.”

Okay, I understood the concept, but I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to go from jumping in the air to executing a dive if that’s what he called. It would require bending my body in half, midair.

A dormant sense of challenge filled my chest as Ford and the kids started trash talking each other. This was another thing I didn’t have much experience with, so I kept my words inside my own head, but I felt their exhilaration as if it were my own.

“I’m first.” Hillary hopped over to the diving board and climbed on. “No cheating, Henry.”

“How would I cheat?” Henry cried, clearly offended by the very idea.

Hillary’s little fists smashed against her hips. “By calling too late. You have to call as soon as my feet leave the board.”

“Fine!” Henry marched to the side near the diving board and nodded to Hillary.

Hillary took off at a run down the length of the diving board and jumped into the air. “Jumping jack,” Henry called.

Hillary’s little limbs went spread eagle and then snapped shut before she landed in the water. She came back up with a big cheer, reaching a hand up to push the water out of her eyes. Ford nodded at me, and I gamely climbed up to the diving board. I didn’t run down it like Hillary had, but I walked quickly and jumped off the end.

“Cannon ball,” Henry yelled when I was at the high point of my jump.

I tucked my legs against my chest and wrapped my arms around them, slamming into the water with seconds to spare. A laugh built in my chest as I swam to the surface, and I came up with a smile that matched Hillary’s. That had been fun. We played several rounds, with Henry adding in a special one called “bum bounce” that involved landing back on the end of the diving board with your rear end and bouncing off of it. We were all in stitches watching Ford try to figure it out the first time Henry called it, and after that it became a favorite. The backs of my legs were going to be fully scratched by the time this game was over.

When we were all breathless, hanging on to the side of the pool with big smiles, I called an end to the game. My wrist was getting sore from the pulling motions of the front crawl, and I needed dinner soon. They were good sports about it, the kids going back to their play and Ford swimming with me back to the steps. I climbed out, tired but feeling incredibly content, and wrapped myself up in a beach towel that was waiting for me.

When I turned back to face the pool, Ford was standing in waist-deep water, watching me. His eyes were focused, and my hands fisted in the towel at my waist.

“I’m glad you came,” he said in a tone that was new to me.

This wasn’t some passing comment from a friend or stranger but carried heavier notes of attraction that caused a shiver to follow a water droplet down my spine.

I knew I was attracted to him; it was something that I didn’t fight but just accepted. Until that moment I’d never known how he felt about me either way, but here and now, it was apparent that the appeal ran both ways.

“Thanks,” I managed, shaken and hungry for more of whatever was passing between us.

It was gone in a heartbeat, as Henry yelled something involving the word ‘attack,’ and I watched an object collide with the back of Ford’s head. He reached up to touch his head just as a few drops of red hit his broad shoulders. He blinked a few times, pulling his hand away and looking at his fingers. He was bleeding. Dizziness and nausea hit me as I watched him put his hand against the back of his head once more. He turned his back to me to face his son, and I was relieved to see that it wasn’t spurting or something. That would have been a real problem, and I didn’t think it was the best time for him to find out just how unhelpful I’d be in a blood-filled emergency.

“What was that, Henry?” he asked, irritated and probably in pain.

“I’m sorry,” Henry called, his face beet red.

“Ford, you’d better get out of the pool,” I called, my voice strained. I was the only other adult here. It had to be me who helped, but I was fighting against getting super woozy. “Hillary and Henry, get out, please.”

The two kids scrambled out of the pool and hurried around to where Ford was climbing up the steps, still holding his head. Stupid head wounds, I thought, why do they have to bleed so much? Ford came to stand in front of me, and I motioned for him to turn around, even though I absolutely did not want to see what was happening on the back of his head.

I released my white-knuckle grip on my towel, and it fell at my feet as I lightly tugged his fingers away to get a better look. I sifted through his thick hair until I found the source. I wasn’t a pro, but I didn’t think it would need stitches, and it seemed like it was already slowing down. My stomach heaved, and I unconsciously put a hand on his shoulder to brace myself as I looked away and took a few deeps breaths.

“How does it look?” he asked over his shoulder.

“No stitches. Just a good cut,” I said breathlessly. “You’ll be okay.” I slitted a glance at the kids. “There’s a closet in the pool house that has extra towels. Will you two please get some for your dad?”

The least we could do is get the blood wiped off his neck and shoulders.

The kids hustled off, and Ford turned to face me, causing my hand to fall off his shoulder. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked.

I looked up at him, knowing my face was pale. “I’m not a blood person.”

“Any idea what hit me?” he asked, reaching out his clean hand and running it up and down my arm in what was meant as a comforting gesture.

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