Dark Beach

Dark Beach - By Lauren Ash

ONE





“No bedbugs. Check.” Ron flopped the mattress back down.

It was a necessary habit, although he still itched in the night whenever he traveled. A previous run-in with the critters had left him covered in red, scabby welts and had resulted in a midnight check-out, with nothing but a “sorry, we didn’t know” sad response.

He pulled open the squeaky drawer of the nightstand and removed a pair of neatly folded jeans and a blue T-shirt, also folded precisely, from his suitcase. They smell like Jenny, he thought—that fabric softener scent he always associated with her before she began to smell faintly of antiseptic and disease, of death even. I shouldn’t have left her, he thought. Shaking his head, he remembered the cold sea air on the coast. She’ll be fine, he told himself, not really believing it.



* * *



One other woman sat across from Jenny in the small waiting room. Try as she might not to watch her, Jenny couldn’t help it. The magazines in front of her were all out of date, and boring, so she stared.

Crap! Jenny thought, getting caught and then looking away as quickly as possible. Surreptitiously, Jenny looked back. The woman gave a half-smile; Jenny forced one back at her.

Now that the woman knew, she couldn’t watch, but Jenny still peeked at her, in between staring at the permanent scratch on her red shoe, or at the clock. They shouldn’t put clocks in waiting rooms, she decided. It makes every minute that much longer.

A petite brunette woman in navy scrubs interrupted her misery. “Jenny?”

She stood. Only ten minutes late this time, she thought.

“My name is Sarah. I’m your nurse today. This way, please. Let me get your blood pressure and your weight.”

Jenny obliged.

“You’ve only gained a pound?”

Jenny placed a protective hand on her belly. “Well, I’ve had quite a bit of morning sickness.”

“Saltines might help.”

“I’ve tried them, and everything else. I’m just getting on with it. Fruit smoothies are all I can keep down.”

Sarah asked her the routine pregnancy questions and Jenny answered robotically.

“Dr. Smith will be in soon,” Sarah said, and left the room.

Jenny nodded, not particularly believing that statement. The room’s silence was broken only by the ticking of yet another clock, and then by a knock.

“Jenny, good afternoon. I’m Dr. Smith. I’ll be taking care of you during your pregnancy.” He shook her hand. “How are you feeling? I hear you’re having morning sickness?”

“Yes, but I don’t think I’ll need anything.”

“Right. If you do, I can get you something. Your chart says you went off your medication?”

“Yes.”

The doctor hesitated. “And you’re feeling okay with that?”

“Yes, perfect. No symptoms.”

“Good. That’s what I like to hear. Lie down, please. I’m going to check you.”

Jenny climbed on the table, adjusted her blonde hair behind and lifted her white tunic.

“We should be able to see a heartbeat on the ultrasound. No bleeding or anything?”

“No.”

He squeezed warm gel on her belly, and Jenny tensed.

“Relax,” the doctor said, moving the ultrasound probe around to find the heartbeat. It pulsed away loudly and flashed on the screen above the foot of the bed. Jenny watched, smiling.

“Looks normal,” Dr. Smith said.

“That’s a relief. Just seeing it makes me feel better.”

“I know. You’re still in the first trimester, but you can tell your husband the good news.”

Jenny’s smile faded.

“Something wrong?”

Jenny glanced up at Dr. Smith. “He doesn’t know.” She redirected her gaze to her belly. “My husband’s been gone the last few weeks, traveling for work.”

“In your own time then. It’s good to get as much support as you can. He’ll be back soon?” He wiped the gel off her belly and pulled her shirt down.

“He’s home now. We’re leaving on a trip tomorrow.”

“Well, that sounds like a good time. Everything looks and sounds healthy.”

“Thank you, Dr. Smith.”



* * *



Chaos—that was how these trips always started.

“Honeeeeey, where’s my blue shirt? Have you seen it? I thought I left it on the bed, and where are my sunglasses?”

Jenny listened, but did not respond. She leaned in close to the mirror, noticing her first fine line: right there, under her left eye. It had appeared overnight, as if she had gone to bed and woken up with it. How did that happen?

“And the sunscreen? Did you pack it, or are we out?”

In her peripheral vision, Jenny noticed Ron’s head pop into the bathroom. She stayed focused on the wrinkle.

“Have you heard anything I said?” Ron asked, coming up behind her and squinting at his own reflection.

Jenny’s dark eyes moved over her husband’s face, examining his clean-cut blond hair, perfect chiseled features, and gleaming brown eyes. He was younger than she, and slightly taller—and, she noticed, he had a distinct lack of wrinkles. She frowned at her reflection again. “Huh? Oh, blue shirt in the dryer, sunglasses on the dresser, and I have the sunscreen,” she finally answered.

“What’s wrong?” he rubbed his hands up and down her pale arms.

“Nothing. Just getting ready.”

“Don’t forget your pills,” he said, as he wandered away.

Razor-sharp teeth flashed again in her mind, an image that had been plaguing her for months now. She stood still a minute, struggling to forget. Three bottles of pills sat on the counter. She shoved them into her black toiletry bag.

“Charlie’s escaped again,” Ron shouted.

“Maaaaaa. Ma.”

Jenny felt a tug on the hem of her short white nightgown. “Yes, my lovely.”

“Charlie’s outside.”

“Again? Oh!” On autopilot, she dropped her concealer, pushed past her daughter and her husband in the bedroom, and crashed down the wooden steps and out the front door.

“Charlie? Chaaaaaarlieeeeee!” she called.

“Honey, the neighbors will see you.” Ron stood on the front steps.

Jenny ignored him.

“Ouch! These rocks are sharp.” She looked down at her bleeding big toe. “My toe. Ron, I need an … ah!”

“Mommy has an owie?”

There was no sign of the little black dachshund.

“Here.” Ron handed her a bandage. “Come in. He’ll turn up.”

“I hope so. Should we cancel the trip?”

“God, no. We need this. I have been working so much lately. Don’t worry. Come inside. You finish packing. I’ll come out and look for him.” Ron headed back out in his sweats and well-worn slippers.

Jenny limped into the shower, holding her foot out to rinse off the blood and watching a drop fall to the floor and streak down the drain. Then she dried her foot and carefully placed the bandage.

The rest of the packing went smoothly, although there was still no sign of the dog.

“Into the car, Kip. Come on. It’s time to go.” She ushered their daughter into the backseat, finally feeling the first pangs of excitement.

“We’re going to the beach.” Kip sang.

“Are you excited?”

“Ya.” Kip climbed into the toddler car seat, and Jenny strapped her in tight and patted her soft blonde curls. “Charlie?” Kip asked.

“He’s lost, but Daddy told the neighbors, and they are going to keep an eye out for him. He always comes home.”

“You have the directions?” Ron asked from the back as he finished loading the last of their bags.

“Try the sat-nav.” Jenny pointed to the dash as she climbed into the passenger side of their black SUV.

“I hate that thing.” Ron grimaced buckling up. “It’s only right most of the time.”

“Most of the time? All of the time, for me. Anyway, I have my cell phone if it screws up.”

“Turn right,” a perfect female voice instructed as Ron eased the car out of the drive and then abruptly slammed on the brakes.

“God, Ron! What is this—whiplash?” Jenny grabbed her neck.

“Look!”

“Charlie! There you are, you silly doggie. Come on. Come in.” Jenny opened the car door.

Charlie, happy as pie, leaped into her lap and licked her face.

“I missed you, fella. Where’ve you been?”

Charlie just wagged his tail.

Jenny smiled as the car pulled away. Autumn leaves from her favorite tree were starting to carpet the ground outside their yellow seventies-style home, she noticed, even though it was only early fall. Already she could detect a slight change in the air in the mornings, a breeze that was just that much cooler.

“It’s all good,” Jenny said, as Ron turned on the car stereo.



* * *



“They found what?” Carl’s southern accent was still thick, even though he’d been away from home for years. He stood on the hot deck of the old World War II destroyer, a white hard hat on his head, yellow safety glasses covering his eyes, and with his hands on the spare tire that encircled his hips.

“Munitions. Old munitions,” the young welder yelled above the noise of the drilling.

“We need to get that garbage the hell off. Now!” shouted Carl, shaking his head. “That’s all Ah need right now. You hear me—now!” Carl punched the buttons on his worn-out cell phone. “Yeah, get me the Admiral … wait … wait … never mind.”



* * *



The freeway was stop and go.

“Mommy, I’m hungry.”

“Me too,” said Jenny.

Ron checked the clock. “Let’s stop and get a quick bite.” He changed lanes, slowed down.

“Burgers?” Jenny asked, thinking only of meat.

“Sure, my rear needs a break, and I forgot to tell you earlier...”

“What?” Jenny asked.

“...I have to make a conference call.” Ron’s tone was neutral.

“Conference call? But you’re on vacation!”

“I have to. There’s something going on.”

“Can’t someone else handle it?”

“No. I need to be in on the call. I’m the one who sees the client face to face. I’m the designer. I have to.”

“But Ron, you’ve only been off half a day. They need you already? They’ve known for ages that you were taking time off.”

“It’ll be quick: fifteen minutes, tops.”

“It better be.”

He went through the drive-thru and pulled into a small parking lot packed with lunch-rush cars. Jenny climbed into the back with Kip, trying to help her tiny hands grip the cheeseburger.

“Mmm.”

“Good, huh?”

Kip’s blonde curls bounced as her burger slid out of its bun and plopped onto the beige car seat. “Oops.” She giggled.

Jenny blotted at the red stain with the paper napkin, pushing the burger back into the bun with her other hand.

The burger still looked good. Jenny bit into it—nausea. She tried to mask it with a sip of chocolate milkshake. “Gosh.”

“Mamma. More!”

“Here, have some apple.”

Fifteen minutes passed. The food was gone, leaving a lingering film of grease around her mouth. Jenny rolled down the window. “Ugh … Jesus.”

“Jeeeeesus.”

“Kip, don’t say that.”

Charlie barked, as if to agree.

Jenny concentrated on the line at the drive-thru, each car slowly inching by. The occasional driver glanced over at her. “What are you staring at?” she grumbled under her breath.

Charlie barked again.

“I hate this. Come on, let’s go inside. Mommy needs to use the bathroom.”

In the corner, Ron sat with his feet up on one of the worn plastic chairs. He stared out the window, one ear to his cell phone, listening. Jenny sat across from him and motioned with open palms. “What’s taking so long?” she mouthed, not so quietly.

Ron gesticulated wildly for her to leave.

Turning, she grabbed Kip’s hand and stormed out, back to the car, slamming the door behind her. There was nothing to do except watch the cars, watch the clock, and tap.

“Unbelievable! Forty-five minutes.” She leaned back, tired from the aggravation.

Finally, Ron appeared and slid into the driver’s seat. “What’d you do that for? Why’d you come in? They could hear everything. Now I look like a fool.”

“Ron, you said fifteen minutes.”

“I told you, I can’t help this stuff. Now, please...”

“Please what … shut up?”

“No…” Ron shook his head and rested his forehead on the steering wheel. “I don’t want to fight. Can we just stop?”

Jenny crossed her arms, already beginning to tune out. “Fine.”

The roads emptied as they exited Olympia, hitting the country highway west. The ominous clouds cleared and a ray of sunshine dashed through the windshield, flashing right in Jenny’s eye. She slid on her dark sunglasses and laid her blonde head back, drifting away to another place.

The water was murky, and she floated in it alone. There was no sky, just liquid warmth, tugging, directing her somewhere and nowhere at the same time.

She heard a roaring splash, and she flipped upside-down, sinking lower and lower, pressure increasing on every pound of flesh. Through the dark, it came—the whale, black and huge, long and smooth. Her descent ended. Her body suspended. It opened its mouth and all she saw were bright-white, razor-sharp teeth.

Jenny gasped.

“Honey, what’s up?” Ron glanced over then returned his gaze to the road.

She ripped off her sunglasses, a tear rolling down her cheek. “That dream—I had it again. It won’t leave me alone.”

“What?”

“The whale.”

“A whale?”

“It has teeth, hundreds of horrid teeth. It’s so awful.”

“I don’t think whales have teeth, maybe it’s a shark?”

“God, Ron! It’s a whale! It’s massive.”

“How long has this been going on for?”

“I don’t know, a few months … maybe.”

“It’s just a dream, honey. Don’t worry.”

“I have it almost every day, throughout the day. Like it’s lurking there, behind my eyes, behind my thoughts, in my breath—in me.”

Ron flicked the indicator on, checked his blind spot, and changed lanes. “I always have this dream that the dentist sits me in his chair, straps me down and removes too many of my teeth. And there’s the one where I’m falling and I land, and then I startle awake.”

“Let’s change the subject. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure there’s nothing else going on?”

Jenny put her sunglasses back on. “No. Not a thing.”

“Well, only another hour to go and then we’re there. Is there anything you need? I can stop at the next exit”—Ron pointed forward to a fast-approaching off ramp—“get you some tea, coffee, something sweet?”

“No.”

“I’m sort of hungry. I forgot to eat earlier. I was so wrapped up in that phone call. Would you mind if we stopped quickly?”

“Okay.”

They all piled into the cluttered quickie mart, Jenny refereeing Kip, who tried to pull everything off the shelves while Ron paid for his candy and chips.

“God, I love junk food; that’s one of my favorite parts about vacation.”

Beyond Ron’s chatter with the disinterested teenaged cashier, Jenny could hear a quiet, distant barking. Outside, a lanky man stood peering into the back of their car.

“What the...? Ron!”

Ron was still chatting—something about coastal weather patterns and La Niña.

The man just stood there, turning to stare into the quickie mart, right at Jenny. His face was shrunken, serious, and unshaven. In the back of the car, Charlie was going mental.

“Charlie!” Ron noticed the barking when it increased in volume. With a wave to the teen, he walked out to the SUV. Jenny bent down to pick up Kip, but stayed in the store.

“Who’s Daddy talking to?”

“I don’t know, honey.” She gazed at the man again, watching him gesture to the dog, and decided to go investigate.

“I used to have one just like him when I was a boy...” Jenny heard the man say in a hoarse voice as she approached.

“Well, we’ve had him a few years now. He’s a good dog.” Ron reached in through the back window to pat the dachshund.

Charlie barked.

“Come on. We must get going,” Jenny said, the noise getting to her.

The man just stared at the dog. “It was a sad day when we lost him.”

“Ron?” Jenny moved into his line of sight and raised her eyebrows.

“Yes, well, I’m sorry to hear that. We must get along now.” Ron followed Jenny around to her side and held the door open.

“He was a good dog… yes he was…” the man said again, shaking his head.

“Excuse me.” Jenny stooped and climbed into the passenger seat.

“Well, you folks enjoy Rocky Shores.” Leaning forward, the stranger put a hand on the roof and closed Jenny’s car door for her.

“Sure will,” Ron said, revving the engine. The man pulled his hand off the car as Ron let out the clutch and accelerated away.

“You told that guy our plans?” Jenny could barely contain her fury.

“No! Of course I didn’t”

“Mamma, man?” said Kip, pointing out the window.

“How did he know, then?”

“He probably saw our suitcases in the trunk. I mean, come on. There’s beach stuff back there and this is the main road out to the coast. Anyone can tell we’re on vacation.”

“He was looking in our trunk? He looked totally psycho. How do you know he isn’t going to follow us?”

“He was just curious about Charlie. He didn’t mean any harm.”

“How do you know that? I have a bad feeling.”

“No, you don’t. Don’t be silly. I’ve been checking the rearview mirror. He’s not following us. People ask about Charlie all the time when we’re out, and you don’t bother with them.”

“Can we please not stop again? I just want to get there.” Jenny put her sunglasses back on and turned to check the mirror on her side.

“Yes. I’ll speed the whole way.”

She frowned at him. “Not with Kip in the car.”

“Okay, okay! Hey, can you open my candy bar for me? I’m driving here.” Ron tossed her a Milky Way bar.

“Sure, may I have a bite?”

He laughed. “Now you want a bite?”

“Just a little one, please?”

“Okay.”

One bite turned into two.

“Come on! Come on!” Ron snatched it back.



* * *



They neared the ocean, billboards pointing the way to The Blue Sky Motel or recommending a spot for ice cream or kayaking. Under the cloudy sky, nothing looked appealing.

“You don’t think it’ll rain, do you?” She pulled her sunglasses off, folded the arms in, and placed them in the glove box.

“No. The forecast yesterday said partly cloudy and sunny.”

“Weathermen,” Jenny scoffed, “you know they’re only right half the time.”

“He’s half right. There are clouds.”

The billboards became even more worn as they drove on. WHALE WATCHING blared at her. The bad image flashed again—a huge mouth opened, lined with pointed spears of teeth which formed around the road ahead, fading in and out even as Jenny shuddered and closed her eyes to avoid entering the malevolent maw.

“What?” Ron asked.

“Uh … just relaxing.” She fought the image away. One of her hands crept to her belly.

“Look!” Ron pointed ahead to a sign that read ROCKY SHORES. “We’re here!”

“About time.” Jenny perked up. “I’m hungry again. I wouldn’t mind another smoothie. Can we drive-thru some place?”

“Sure.”

There was no line this time. Jenny gulped down the thick strawberry ice. “This is good—just what I needed.” She scrunched up her nose, feeling the numb pain of an ice headache. “Maybe too good.”

The beach house cowered at the end of a long strip of road. It felt like an hour passed as Ron slowed down, crawling along to look at the other beach getaways, all different shapes, heights, and colors: yellows, creams, blues. Wooden sculptures—mostly seagulls, seals or ships—sat sun-bleached out front. Fences were made of buoys with rope. Old ship steering wheels studded the lawns. Most homes looked serene, as if they hadn’t been used in months, but a few teemed with people and cars.

“Aw, look at that one.” Jenny pointed to a circular, domed house.

“That’s a geodesic.”

“A geo what?”

“Geodesic—its shape and style.”

“Oh.”

“That one there is a partial spherical shell. See all the triangles.” He pointed. “Stress is distributed across the entire structure. What’s neat is it encloses the most volume for surface area. Although there are so many edges that sometimes they leak.”

“I’m lost.”

“The edges of all the triangles.”

“Oh.”

“They’re expensive to build, that’s why you don’t see very many of them. They look awesome.” Ron’s voice deepened.

“I’d like to go in.” Jenny wriggled in her seat, turning back to look at the geodesic house as they passed by.

Ron laughed. “Speaking of going in, do you have the key to the beach house?”

Jenny fumbled around in her pockets, her purse, under the seat. “Oh no,” she said, checking her pockets again, and then her purse—this time dumping the contents everywhere. “I don’t have it.”

“I don’t either.”

“Ron!”

“I was too busy looking for Charlie.”

Upon hearing his name, the dog barked.

“Me too. I was distracted.”

“Now what do we do?” Jenny asked, hands in the air. “We’ve come all this way. I don’t want to go back now. Jesus … and … well … crap!”

“Calm down. I’ve got this.”

“What? What are going to…?”

Ron wrenched the wheel into a fast, sharp right and the car coasted down a pebbled drive and slid to a halt in front of the beach house. He flung open the car door and hurried up the narrow grey wooden steps, almost tripping before steadying himself on the rickety rail. Kip still napped in the back of the car, open-mouthed, head slumped to the side.

I can’t leave her in here, Jenny thought. No longer able to see Ron, Jenny hastily unbuckled her and scooped up the sleeping child, letting Charlie out of the back as she exited the car.

“These steps feel like they’re going to cave in any second,” Jenny called out to Ron, concerned.

There was no reply.

The dachshund whined at her feet. She looked up to see the tall, four-story beach house, topped with a hexagonal lookout, towering over her and a single imported palm fighting the winds. “Neat. Ron, where are you?” Hearing a commotion brewing nearby, she followed the sounds.

The home was due for a paint job—overdue. Grey paint peeled off like the scales of a gargantuan fish, more so on the deck than on the rest of the house. Jenny stopped to peel off a piece, flicked it away, and then stepped up to the newly blue-painted front door, deciding to try the silver knob—no luck. After rubbing a clean spot in the glass with one hand, she stuck her nose up to the small hexagonal window near the entranceway and looked in. She could see a hardwood hallway and a small white sign on the pale-blue wall. It read: “Fishermen are like the sea, rough around the edges, salty, and deep.”

“That’s adorable,” she said to herself, and then called out, “Ron?”

A gust of wind curled around the corner.

“Brrr!” With one hand, Jenny pulled up the hood of her grey sweatshirt, whipped the zipper up, and tried to snuggle Kip onto her chest a little more. The child stirred, waking.

“There you are.” Ron padded along the deck to stand beside her. “I’ve tried every door, every window, the garage doors. I’ve looked under any places a spare key might be hidden. Nothing. Nada!”

“So we go home?” Jenny asked bleakly.

“No! Are you kidding? We break in. It’s going to be our place anyways.”

“What do you mean?” Jenny peered in through the porthole-sized window near the door again.

“My mother doesn’t want it.”

“Rachel doesn’t want it?”

“No. Nana Gerry is leaving it to Mom in the will, but she’s very old now.

She’s in a nursing home. It’s fully paid for, except for property taxes. I suppose the taxes could be a lot, since it’s on the coast. I’m not sure.”

“Just like that, no strings attached?” Jenny quirked up one eyebrow.

“Not exactly.”

“See! I knew it. Nothing is simple with your mother.”

“Hey, come on now. She has offered to sell it to me, to us, at way below market value.”

“We still can’t afford it. Do you know how much these beach houses cost?” Jenny said, as Kip moaned and wriggled to be let down. Sliding the child down her body, Jenny folded her arms in front of her.

Ron moved closer and hugged her. “What I haven’t told you is … I’m getting a big raise! A very big promotion.”

“You are?” She couldn’t keep the strain of uncertainty from her voice.

“I was going to tell you later; you know, a special moment ... some wine, aperitifs, lobster,” he whispered through her hair, his breath warm on her throat just below her ear lobe.

“You…” Jenny squeezed him tight and lifted her face to kiss him.

He held her chin there, letting her lips go slowly, gazing down at her until she pulled back and exhaled.

“There’s a catch,” he said.

“What?”

“More travel.”

Letting go of their rare embrace, she turned and ran—back down the stairs, the devoted dog scurrying behind her.

“Jenny...?” Already she could hear Ron coming after her.

She fled to the back of the SUV, leaning against it, facing the sea and rubbing her belly for comfort. “There’s already too much travel,” she said despondently when he caught her up there, leading Kip along after him. He tried to move in close again.

Backed up against the dusty car, she turned her face away.

“Honey, the money is too good,” he said. “I couldn’t decline. Plus, I will get bigger bonuses—every quarter. I’ll have more clients, more responsibility, more control. I will have the final decision. It’s what I’ve been working towards, you know that. Can’t you understand?”

“I know. You remind me all the time. It’s all I hear.” She faced him shaking her head. “I just wish there wasn’t so much travel. I’m tired of it. Every two weeks you pack, you unpack. Time flies when you’re home—it’s great, we’re happy. But you go and time slows down for me. My days are long, my nights, lonely. I know we talk, but...”

“You could come with. You and Kip.”

“I couldn’t do that.”

“Yes, you could. We’ll be able to afford it. Some trips I’ll be gone a few weeks at a time. We could go out in the evenings, explore, see the sights on the weekends, and go other places. I’ll have a rental car at my disposal, in fact a very nice rental car.”

“Really?”

“Do you like convertibles?”

Jenny’s face brightened. “No way.”

“Yes way. You know you could do it. You’d enjoy it.” Ron tilted his blond head, his hair already mussed by the salty wind. “It’ll be an adventure. Come on?”

“I wouldn’t want to impose on your work schedule.”

“You wouldn’t. Some nights I’ll have to work late, or take clients out to dinner, but you can be my arm candy.”

Her face lit up. Finally, she gave him the big smile he had been waiting for the entire trip out to the beach—the smile she used to wear every day when he came home from work. The smile she wore when they got married. It had been hiding too much lately.

“Come on, let’s go inside.”

Ron slipped his arm around his slim wife.

“Did you forget?” she laughed.

“Oh yeah—no key. Time to break in.”



* * *



Hundreds of sparkling slivers of glass soon punctuated the classic wooden floor.

“Our new home away from home!” Ron proclaimed. “Well, not quite yet. Our wannabe broken-into home away from home.” He cautiously stretched one arm in through the broken window, trying to avoid the jagged shards still stuck in the pane. At first, he couldn’t reach the deadbolt.

“Careful, honey.” One hand over her eyes, the other clutching Kip’s hand, Jenny couldn’t help but peek a little through the gaps between her fingers.

“Ouch!”

“Ron.” She pressed her fingers more firmly over her face, not looking at all now.

“There we go.” There was a stiff click. “I got it. Scrape free.”

Excited, Ron pulled at the door, only to have it open a crack and slam shut. “Oh hell! Catch chain. What?” Puzzled, he stood back. “Seems whoever was here last left through the garage, and I have no garage door opener. Is this overly complicated, or is it me?” He kicked the door as hard as he could; it thundered back angrily. “Fine.” Ron said smashing the window. The catch was unreachable so he finally kicked in the door.

“Mamma.”

“There, there.” Jenny calmed Kip. “It’s just Daddy, making a mess. Come on now.” Jenny picked her daughter up and carried her through the wreck-of-a-front door.

Glass crackled under her blue canvas shoes. “Honey, can you clean this up? We could get cut, Jes—”

“Yeah.” His voice carried from somewhere above.

Jenny glanced back to the door: wood ripped apart, brass hardware hanging, the chain still intact. “Our new home.” She sighed. “We’re off to a bad start.”

“Mamma, snack.”

“Soon,” she soothed. “We have to unpack first. Let’s go look about, come.” She led Kip around the first floor. The kitchen had dark blue accents and opened into a dining room and a small living room with a back patio. Everything was blue or white. White curtains, blue sofa, white lamps, blue ornaments. It was quaint, but there was an odd smell Jenny couldn’t quite place. “Ron, where are you?” At the very end of the room, she turned a corner to find a set of dark-blue, carpeted steps.

“Just come up. Hurry! You’re missing it.”

The second floor Jenny only glanced at—a family type room and some smaller bedrooms. On the third floor was a luxurious master bedroom with a hot tub en suite and a perfect view of the ocean. “You here?”

“Keep going, honey.”

Trekking up to the fourth level was slow. Pregnancy made her more puffed than usual as she climbed the white-paneled staircase. The occasional family photograph created a friendly feel. Near the top, she noticed a black-and-white photograph of a young woman standing on the end of the jetty, her back to the photographer. It gave her a chill: so isolated, so forlorn.

“You made it, finally! Come see. Look.” Ron pointed. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

They stood abreast before the large window that spanned ceiling to floor, wall to wall, in a hexagonal shape. Beyond, the ocean was grey, ragged in the wind. Waves crashed boundlessly upon the ashen sands. From off the sea, a storm was raging towards them, pressing against the glass, the wind echoing through the room.

“Wow.” It was depressingly beautiful. Jenny felt the dynamism, the force of the water, the flimsy shelter of the beach. Rocky Shores, she thought. She looked left, all the way down the beach to where the black jetty jutted into the waves like a long, crooked finger.

“Did the rain just start?” she asked.

“Yeah, suddenly. As if it knew we’d be up here to see it.”

“There goes our romantic walk.”

“It’ll calm down. It does this.”

Jenny just watched in overwhelmed silence, her family by her side.



* * *



“Are we done?”

“That’s the last of the suitcases.” Ron washed his hands under the kitchen tap.

“I finished unloading the cooler. We have enough food for a few days, but then I’ll have to go into town. What would you like tonight?” Jenny opened the fridge and scanned the shelves. “Frozen sausage and pepperoni pizza, or frozen lasagna?”

“Hmmm. How about pizza? That’s quicker.”

“I was in the mood for that, too. I don’t know what it is about frozen pizza—totally disgusting, but great at the same time.”

“I know. I could eat a whole one. In fact, I’ve eaten two myself before.”

Jenny pulled the pizza from the cardboard box, cut the plastic wrap off, and put it on a cookie sheet.

“In college; I was drunk,” Ron continued. “It was the Super Bowl. I got a little carried away. Couldn’t go for days after it.”

“Ah!” Jenny giggled. “That’s horrible.”

The pizza went down well. Kip ate her chicken nuggets—her main food group—and Charlie scampering under the oak table, snapped up however many Kip tossed to him.

“Nice.” Ron jumped up and opened the blinds to the patio. “The sun is out; I can see it through the clouds. I told you it would come.”

“You do know this place, don’t you?” Jenny smiled.

“I do. We used to come here often. Lived here awhile too. I have so many memories. Like this patio, the barbecues, the s’mores—sticky melted chocolate, mmm. Then the long grass: my legs would get scratched up from running through it as a teen, but I didn’t care. It was all about getting down to the beach as fast as possible. My sister would walk through it so slowly—hated it. She had allergies, still does. Then, once I got to the beach, the water. Didn’t matter how cold it was. It’s always cold. God, it was good.” Ron leaned up against the wall, casting his mind back.

“Yet your mother hates this place?”

“Yes. I never knew why, never asked her. Maybe I didn’t care. I remember being mad that we had to go. Something happened. I don’t know really. One day that was it: we packed, we left. Never came back. This is my first time back in years.”

“I wonder…” Jenny didn’t pry.

“Are you finished? I have to go down there.”



The grass was dirty yellow, tall, waist high and bisected by a narrow path so overgrown that Ron had to cut through the vegetation with a rusted machete he’d found in the garage. Jenny jumped with each whack. What was it with that sound? It made her feel anxious, tense. Sweat beaded her brow as she followed—ever the good wife.

Charlie weaved in between them; his tail wagging faster and faster, as if he knew something exciting was coming. They reached the edge of the sandy dune to find a four-foot drop to the beach. Ron jumped. Charlie followed. Jenny took Ron’s offered hand down, helping Kip last.

“We’re on the beach!” Jenny pointed.

Kip repeated the phrase, the wind catching at her small voice and whipping the words away as she ran ahead, her arms outstretched.

The weather had improved, although it was still mostly cloudy and very cold. Jenny pulled her hood back up and stopped to watch Kip and Ron greet the ocean. She didn’t want to venture closer; she knew what was in it. Instead, she shook the red plaid blanket out on the sand, lay back, and sucked in the fresh air.

After a while, her nerves settled. All the fire went out of her; all that remained was a little smoke. “Ah…” She breathed that out too, releasing any angst.

Time passed. Jenny felt cozy there on the blanket, and a little sleepy, but, not wanting to nod off, she made herself wake up. The camera hadn’t been used in ages. She switched it on, browsing the last photos, which had not yet been downloaded, and added some shots of the grey distance. Standing, she zoomed in on Ron and Kip, knee deep in waves.

“Did you catch it?”

Jenny lowered the camera. “Excuse me?”

“Did you catch it?” An older couple, dressed in raincoats, stood before her and pointed to the ocean. “The whale.”

“What?”

“It’s out there; you can see it spouting up water. We think we saw its tail, but the water is so dark it’s hard to tell.”

“Oh right, yeah…” Jenny nodded, her anxiety rising again.

The couple stared at her a minute, bemused, and then nodded and continued on their way.

Jenny closed her eyes, blinking back the fear that crept over her like the sand invading her blanket. She just as quickly groaned and opened her eyes again, not wanting to see it there in her mind’s eye: that black body, those razor-sharp teeth. Gazing out at the ocean, she saw a huge black shape surface. Just as quickly, it was gone.