The Waterproof Bible Read Free Page B

he was building a sailboat in the middle of the Canadian Prairies. Or, more specifically, ona bend of the Red River that could float a boat only once a year, for a few days during spring runoff. But Margaret was not someone who needed to pry. This was partly her respect for privacy and partly due to her love of eccentricity, but mainly because she had secrets of her own.
    Stewart opened the tailgate. Margaret adjusted her scarf and they each picked up a side of the sail.
    “It’s heavy,” she said.
    Stewart nodded his agreement, rendered speechless by the weight. Taking tiny steps, they moved towards the back of the truck.
    “One, two, three,” Margaret said. On three they heaved it into the bed. The truck rocked on its springs, and a thin layer of dirt was knocked to the ground. Stewart closed the tailgate.
    “Should we tie it down?” Margaret asked.
    “It’s not going anywhere,” Stewart said, but he drove slowly. They had made it past the town’s population sign when his cellphone rang. Stewart looked down at his phone. Margaret studied his face.
    “It’s her. I can tell,” she said.
    “What if it is?”
    “Then you just don’t answer it,” Margaret said, trying to pull the phone out of his hand.
    “She’s just lost her sister!” Stewart said, holding the ringing phone as far away from Margaret as possible.
    “That’s true,” Margaret said. Her hands fell to her lap. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Answer it, then.”
    Stewart nodded. He swerved onto the shoulder and stopped.
    “Rebecca?” he said to his wife, a woman he had not seen in three years, six months and one day.

    Stewart had met his wife not by accident but because of one. Pushing an overly burdened grocery cart across an icy parking lot, he’d slipped. The cart got away from him and rolled towards a row of parked cars, picking up speed on the ice. Lying prone, he predicted that it would hit either the rusted Ford Tempo or the cherry red Karmann Ghia.
    To his surprise, Stewart hoped it would be the Karmann Ghia, although he wasn’t sure why. If it hit the Tempo, the bumper would absorb the impact, whereas a collision with the Karmann Ghia would destroy the right tail light. Stewart watched as the cart, seemingly of its own will, veered slightly left and struck the Karmann Ghia. As predicted, it shattered the tail light.
    Stewart got up and retrieved his cart. He was squatting to survey the damage when a shadow crossed his face. Looking up, he found Rebecca looking down.
    “Had a bit of an accident,” he said, words he would later conclude to be the worst opening line in the history of love.
    “I can see that.”
    “I can fix it.” He raised his head and looked her in the eye. Somehow he could feel her doubt. Not just by inferring, or assuming, or being empathetic—he literally felt it. “Honest, I’m good with my hands,” Stewart said and, as if to demonstrate, he produced a business card.
    “General Repairs,” she said, studying his card. “Impressive.”
    Her voice was icy, but Lewis knew—again, he could
feel
—that she was actually quite attracted to him. He had always had trouble reading women, but this one seemedunable to hide her true feelings, which made her very appealing. Plus, she had long, shapely legs that even in the dead of winter were covered not by pants, a long skirt or a parka, but just by black tights and shapely boots.
    “I’ll need your phone number,” Stewart said. He realized that she was only feigning impatience as she asked for another card and wrote down her contact information on the back.
    The replacement tail light was more expensive than he’d hoped, but three days later Stewart phoned ahead and went to her house, tools in hand. Finding the car parked on the street, Stewart began work and was crouched beside the rear bumper when he felt her shadow on him.
    “Good morning,” Stewart said.
    “Hello. Make sure you do it right.”
    “I will.”
    “Just remember, I don’t trust you at