Chapter 24: The Beach

The rental in Cape May had a blue door, a wicker porch swing and a screen that slapped shut every time someone went through it.

Ian's son banged it again and again before we had unpacked the car.

"Aunt Maggie, can we go to the beach now?"

"After sunscreen."

"Is sunscreen a rule?"

"It's the first rule," I said, and held out the bottle.

Cody stood next to him, hopping on one foot, in swim trunks with sharks on them.

Shannon had driven him to my house at seven that morning, and she'd stayed in the car again.

She had held the window down an inch.

"He's got a hat in the bag," she'd said. "He won't wear it unless you make him."

"I'll make him."

"Thank you."

"Eat something, Shannon," I'd said. "You look tired."

She had given a small, startled nod, and that was all.

It wasn't forgiveness.

But it was a door that wasn't locked, and I'd decided I could live with that.

The beach was nearly empty at nine.

Ian carried the umbrella and the cooler, and I carried the folding chairs.

The boys ran ahead to the edge of the water and stopped, shrieking, at the first cold wave.

I set my chair in the sand and sat down.

I waited for the old feeling.

The hum of obligation, the list of things to remember, the sense that somebody needed something from me.

It didn't come.

The boys were building a sandcastle with a moat.

Ian was watching them from the cooler, and nobody needed me to.

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