porch.
'Sorry,' he said, with a little shrug of his shoulders. He meant for being argumentative, but she thought he meant for the kiss.
She gave him a little smile. 'That's OK,' she said softly. They looked at each other for a few more moments, then he turned to the car and she shouted after him: 'Are you OK to drive?'
He looked back up. 'Do you want to drive me?'
She smiled and shook her head. He leant against the car. 'So how's it really going with Moses the Lawgiver?' he asked.
The smile faded. 'Don't start, Corrigan.'
'I'm not starting anything. You look like you've lost weight.'
'What're you saying, he made me lose weight?'
'No! Just an observation. An unconnected observation. You look good.'
'Thanks, Corrigan.'
'What'd he do, lock you in a cupboard and feed you through a straw?'
'Corrigan . . .'
Corrigan scuffed a foot on the grass. 'I don't like the way he's moving in on Aimie,' he said quietly. 'Does he ever hit her?'
'No!'
'I mean, does he chastise her when she's bad? I'll bet he doesn't, and that's why she likes him and doesn't like me.'
'Corrigan, she loves you. You're her father, you'll always be her father.'
'And you were my wife, and you said you'd always be my wife.'
'I thought there was a body up at the Falls.'
Corrigan nodded. 'Well at least she isn't going to run out on me,' he said, and climbed into the car. He regretted it immediately. He rolled the window down and smiled weakly up at her. She hugged herself and managed to return the smile.
'You'll drop by tomorrow.'
'What?'
'The house. There's people coming to see the house.'
'I'll do my best.'
'It's your house, Frank.'
'I know. I'll do my best.'
'Don't do your best, Frank. Just do it.'
He nodded once, but it was neither a nay nor a yeah.
3
'You look like you've been to see the Fat Man,' Maynard said cheerily, turning from the group of crewmen he was chatting to as Corrigan approached.
Corrigan rolled his eyes. 'He's got some sort of sinister hold over her. He's brainwashed her. Drugged her. Subjected her to weird sexual practices. You know it. I saw her reading the fuckin' Bible for godsake. I don't want my daughter exposed to that kind of environment.'
Maynard laughed. 'Still, rather a fat Christian than a loser like you.'
Corrigan managed a little sneer and changed the subject. 'So,' he said, 'tell me about the stiff.'
'A stiff? Who said anything about a stiff? The woman's alive.'
'Oh,' said Corrigan.
The first woman to go over the Horseshoe Falls – as opposed to the smaller, less impressive American Falls a stone's throw down the river (although it would have to be a pretty small stone and a really strong arm) – and ignoring for the moment the legend of Lelewala, was Annie Edson Taylor, a sixty-three-year-old schoolteacher from Bay City, Michigan, who on 24 October 1901 stuffed some pillows into a metal-hooped barrel and climbed in. Her assistants sealed the top of the barrel then pumped in what they believed would be enough air for a week, using a common bicycle pump, before towing her out into the river.
At just after 4 p.m. the barrel went over the edge and instantly disappeared into the curtain of falling water. Seventeen minutes later it floated out from behind the Falls and got dragged ashore. Out staggered Annie Taylor, somewhat delirious but utterly triumphant, convinced that not only fame awaited her, but also fortune. She died in the poorhouse.
At least old mad Annie had had a barrel. This woman, whoever she was, if she'd gone over without one and survived, could be worth a fortune in the right hands. The only other person who'd gone over without protection was a seven-year-old boy called Roger Woodward, who'd been swept over after falling out of a boat. It was 1960 and values were different; he was written about all over the world and probably hadn't made a cent.
Corrigan was thinking films. TV. A book. Several books. Newspaper serialization. Why not? Everyone else does it. Befriend her. Sign her
'Sorry,' he said, with a little shrug of his shoulders. He meant for being argumentative, but she thought he meant for the kiss.
She gave him a little smile. 'That's OK,' she said softly. They looked at each other for a few more moments, then he turned to the car and she shouted after him: 'Are you OK to drive?'
He looked back up. 'Do you want to drive me?'
She smiled and shook her head. He leant against the car. 'So how's it really going with Moses the Lawgiver?' he asked.
The smile faded. 'Don't start, Corrigan.'
'I'm not starting anything. You look like you've lost weight.'
'What're you saying, he made me lose weight?'
'No! Just an observation. An unconnected observation. You look good.'
'Thanks, Corrigan.'
'What'd he do, lock you in a cupboard and feed you through a straw?'
'Corrigan . . .'
Corrigan scuffed a foot on the grass. 'I don't like the way he's moving in on Aimie,' he said quietly. 'Does he ever hit her?'
'No!'
'I mean, does he chastise her when she's bad? I'll bet he doesn't, and that's why she likes him and doesn't like me.'
'Corrigan, she loves you. You're her father, you'll always be her father.'
'And you were my wife, and you said you'd always be my wife.'
'I thought there was a body up at the Falls.'
Corrigan nodded. 'Well at least she isn't going to run out on me,' he said, and climbed into the car. He regretted it immediately. He rolled the window down and smiled weakly up at her. She hugged herself and managed to return the smile.
'You'll drop by tomorrow.'
'What?'
'The house. There's people coming to see the house.'
'I'll do my best.'
'It's your house, Frank.'
'I know. I'll do my best.'
'Don't do your best, Frank. Just do it.'
He nodded once, but it was neither a nay nor a yeah.
3
'You look like you've been to see the Fat Man,' Maynard said cheerily, turning from the group of crewmen he was chatting to as Corrigan approached.
Corrigan rolled his eyes. 'He's got some sort of sinister hold over her. He's brainwashed her. Drugged her. Subjected her to weird sexual practices. You know it. I saw her reading the fuckin' Bible for godsake. I don't want my daughter exposed to that kind of environment.'
Maynard laughed. 'Still, rather a fat Christian than a loser like you.'
Corrigan managed a little sneer and changed the subject. 'So,' he said, 'tell me about the stiff.'
'A stiff? Who said anything about a stiff? The woman's alive.'
'Oh,' said Corrigan.
The first woman to go over the Horseshoe Falls – as opposed to the smaller, less impressive American Falls a stone's throw down the river (although it would have to be a pretty small stone and a really strong arm) – and ignoring for the moment the legend of Lelewala, was Annie Edson Taylor, a sixty-three-year-old schoolteacher from Bay City, Michigan, who on 24 October 1901 stuffed some pillows into a metal-hooped barrel and climbed in. Her assistants sealed the top of the barrel then pumped in what they believed would be enough air for a week, using a common bicycle pump, before towing her out into the river.
At just after 4 p.m. the barrel went over the edge and instantly disappeared into the curtain of falling water. Seventeen minutes later it floated out from behind the Falls and got dragged ashore. Out staggered Annie Taylor, somewhat delirious but utterly triumphant, convinced that not only fame awaited her, but also fortune. She died in the poorhouse.
At least old mad Annie had had a barrel. This woman, whoever she was, if she'd gone over without one and survived, could be worth a fortune in the right hands. The only other person who'd gone over without protection was a seven-year-old boy called Roger Woodward, who'd been swept over after falling out of a boat. It was 1960 and values were different; he was written about all over the world and probably hadn't made a cent.
Corrigan was thinking films. TV. A book. Several books. Newspaper serialization. Why not? Everyone else does it. Befriend her. Sign her
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