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  She squinted under the bright sun and reached into the bed of the truck to grab their sun hats. “You wear this, young man, and don’t take it off unless I say it’s all right.”

  Teddy nodded in agreement as she slipped it on his head. He would do anything she asked to get his hands on the bucket and shovel and all that sand.

  Henry had grabbed their picnic basket, an umbrella, a blanket, and several towels from the back of the truck. “You two ready?”

  “Yes, yes, yes,” said Teddy.

  They set out across the parking lot. Teddy held on to her hand, eyes wide, staring at a cluster of surfers with salt-encrusted hair and bare chests chatting near the strangest looking car Phil had ever seen. It looked like a car made in the thirties, but the surfers had cut off the top so that their tall surfboards would fit upright. “They all ride in there at once,” said Henry. “Standing, with their surfboards next to them. It’s quite a sight.”

  Nearing noon, the air was warm with a slight breeze and the tide was low. The flat, sandy beach stretched about a half mile before being interrupted by rocks and hillside. This afternoon it was speckled with families, young women in two-piece bathing suits lounging on blankets, and clumps of young men throwing balls or playing badminton with one eye on the ladies. They found a spot several feet from the wet sand. Phil spread out their blanket while Henry put up the umbrella. Teddy, holding his bucket and shovel, plopped down in the wet sand and began to dig.

  Phil wore her bathing suit under a simple housedress. Before she took it off, she hesitated, feeling shy. Looking around, though, it seemed as if all the young ladies were wearing one. Times had changed, she supposed. She slipped off her dress and folded it neatly, placing it behind her, and settled under the shade of the umbrella with her legs straight out in front of her. Henry set the picnic basket between them.

  “Here, use this to lean against.” He folded the extra blanket to make it taller and placed it behind her. He did the same for himself with the pile of towels. “You hungry? Would you like a sandwich?”

  “Starving,” she said.

  Henry pulled out two cold sodas, popped their tops, and handed her one. “Teddy, do you want a sandwich?”

  Teddy, shovel in midair, nodded with distinct enthusiasm. “Butter?”

  “Yes, butter sandwiches,” said Henry. “Your mom made them special.”

  Teddy ran to them, then sat cross-legged on the edge of the blanket and held out his hand. “Yes, please.”

  After lunch Teddy went back to playing, and the two of them watched him, sipping their sodas. “Did you come here as a kid?” she asked.

  He smiled, raking a hand through his hair. “Yeah, all the time. Especially during high school years. Rose and William and I were here every chance we had. William had to help his dad in the mornings at the farm. We’d wait for him, then swing by and spend the rest of the day here.” Henry’s blue eyes were set on the sea as he spoke softly. “A lot of good memories. You don’t know when you’re young how little time you have with people you love.”

  “Mrs. Thomas talked to me last night about your offer,” said Phil.

  “Yes, she told me.” His voice sounded careful, like he didn’t want to spook a frightened puppy.

  “It’s very generous of you, but I can’t accept. He wants complete control over everything I do, for one. Not to mention that he’ll see it as disloyalty. His jealously is not rational, Henry. I don’t want either of you involved in my mess.”

  “Your concern for us is admirable, but we don’t need it,” said Henry.

  He was wrong, but she didn’t say anything further, distracted by the waves. They seemed larger than when they’d first arrived, peaked high and crashed hard, eating sand. “Do the waves seem larger than before?” she asked. Surfers dotted the water, some catching waves, others falling.

  He stood, putting his hand over his eyes. Teddy played on wet sand, scooping it into his bucket. “Yes, and the tide’s coming in.”

  “I think Teddy’s too close to the water,” she said at the same time.

  “I’ll get him,” said Henry.

  Just then, another wave crested and broke close to shore, reaching Teddy and his bucket. Teddy cried out, and turned to them, attempting to run, but his feet were seized by the sand and swirling seawater. He dropped his shovel. The sea snatched it and his bucket, carrying them out to sea with a fierce quickness. The water had disappeared from the shore. Teddy’s feet were free. Holding both hands out in front of him, he turned away from them and trudged toward the retreating wave. He’s going after his shovel and bucket. Her heart seemed to stop beating.

  “Henry!” she screamed. “He’s going after his shovel.”

  They ran toward the water in tandem. Teddy continued after his shovel. Another wave was coming, cresting high. It broke with a terrible speed and sucked Teddy under. He disappeared under the water. Phil screamed and ran faster. Henry sprinted, his long legs leaving her behind. The wave was on its way back to sea. It was only Teddy’s hand that reached out of the water. Phil continued to scream. At the water’s edge, she fell to her knees. Surfers, who must have heard her scream, were headed into the ocean, too, but Henry was already in the water, headed toward the spot where they had seen Teddy’s hand a split second before. He dove into the water headfirst. She held her breath, waiting. Another wave crested.

  Then, Henry stood, clutching Teddy. The wave crashed against his back, seeming to propel him forward. On the shore, he ran toward their umbrella, cradling Henry with his good arm. Phil ran after them, arriving seconds after he set Teddy on the blanket. Henry moved Teddy’s head to the side and swept his mouth with his index finger. He put his face close to the child’s mouth and blew into it, then pumped his chest with the palms of his hands. Teddy coughed and Henry turned him over. He spewed sea water before he took in a large breath of air and started to cry. Phil was by their side by now and took Teddy into her arms, rocking him. “It’s all right now, ducky. You’re safe.” She repeated this three times, at least, grateful tears running down her cheeks. “Henry, thank you.”

  “It’s my fault. He shouldn’t have been that close to shore.” He knelt on his knees next to them, and touched a shaking hand on top of Teddy’s head.

  Teddy had stopped crying. “Me scared, Mama.”

  “I know, but you’re very brave. Henry’s brave, too. He saved you.”

  “Henry saved me,” he repeated. His wet, salty head was cool against the Phil’s bare skin. He yawned and nestled closer to her, then stuck his thumb in his mouth and closed his eyes.

  “I think he’s going to sleep,” she said. “Is it all right, do you think?”

  “Let’s pack up and take him to the Doc. Just to make sure.”

  She held Teddy tighter against her, as his breathing evened. He was asleep. Her precious baby. What if she’d lost him? She wouldn’t have wanted to live. “How did you know what to do?” she asked.

  “They taught us in the Navy. A lot of water, you know.” Henry sat back against the towels. His wet shirt clung to him. For the first time, she saw the outline of his stump. He pulled on the front of his shirt to detach the wet cloth from his skin, visibly shaking.

  With Teddy still in her lap, she handed him a towel. “It’s all right now. Put that around your shoulders.”

  He wiped his nose with the corner the towel, then did as she asked. “When I dove in there I actually forgot I didn’t have my arm. Jesus. We both could’ve been lost.”

  “But you were strong enough without it,” she said.

  He lifted his eyes to the sky. “Yeah, I guess I was.”

  “And you went in the water. You didn’t even hesitate.”

  “I did, didn’t I? Didn’t even think about it.” He shivered. “I think I’m good for another few years now.”

  She smiled. “You and Teddy both.”

  “Come on, let’s go. I won’t feel right until the doc takes a look at him.” He brought his long legs up to his chest and rested his chin
on his knees. This is what he must have looked like as a boy. “Phil, I try my hardest not to feel sorry for myself, but some days it’s harder than others. Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth all this effort to keep my chin up. Everywhere I look is evidence of everything I’ve lost. I haven’t been here since before the war.”

  “Oh, Henry.”

  “I haven’t been able to face it without my sister and William. It’s easier not to remember if I stay away from places where we were happy.”

  “I understand, Henry. I do.” She sat cross-legged, forgetting for a moment she was a grownup lady that wasn’t supposed to sit this way. “I can’t believe this is my life. I didn’t ask for much. I was willing to live the life everyone expected of me, even though I had dreams, even back then, of designing my own clothes.” Her voice quavered as the tears came. “And I’m mad at Eddie. Mad at him for lying about his age and talking me into being intimate, and most of all for dying and leaving me here all alone with Teddy. I’m mad he’s not here to see this beautiful boy.” She sobbed. Her makeup would be a wreck and she was probably pitiful in front of this brave man, but she no longer cared.

  “Phil, don’t cry. It’s going to be all right.” He moved so that his back was to the water, and reached out with his left arm, wrapping it around her shoulders and holding her close. “We’re all going to be fine.”

  For a moment, she allowed herself to believe he was right.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Caroline

  CAROLINE WOKE SATURDAY MORNING feeling better. She bathed and slipped into a light cotton dress and went downstairs to find her family. The children and her parents were all at the dining room table, eating breakfast.

  “Good morning,” said Caroline.

  They all turned to look at her. Audrey jumped up from her chair, clapping her hands. “Mother, you’re feeling better?”

  “Yes, much better.” She looked over at the buffet, set with scones, bacon, and fresh orange juice. “Actually, I’m feeling quite ravenous.”

  Seb was already up, filling a plate for her.

  “Sit here, Mother. By me,” said Audrey.

  Pierce rose to his feet, pulling the chair out for her. “You look pretty, Mother,” he said.

  “Not quite so green?” she asked.

  “Let’s say your true color is back,” said Mother.

  “Between a good night’s rest and seeing Julius last night, I feel like I’m ready to join the living. I’m even going to take my walk this morning. The sea air agrees with me.”

  “It agrees with me, too,” said Audrey.

  Father smacked the table. “Great news, darling.”

  “Maybe you’re through the worst of it?” asked Mother with a hopeful lift to her voice.

  Father and Seb went back to their sections of the newspaper, immediately absorbed, while the younger children and Mother chatted about the sea lions they’d spotted yesterday on their walk.

  “The baby sea lion was my favorite,” said Audrey. “Her big brown eyes were cute.” She stabbed her fork into a piece of melon.

  “How do you know it was a girl?” Pierce, eyebrows scrunched, peered at his sister in genuine curiosity.

  “I just know.” Audrey held her fork midair, the melon precariously perched on two out of four prongs. “Some things you know.”

  “I don’t,” said Pierce. “I never seem to know anything.”

  “You know lots of things,” said Audrey. “Gobs.”

  “I agree.” Mother buttered a portion of her scone, then gazed back and forth between the children with an expression of enchantment, as if they were the two cleverest children ever born. “You’re both brilliant.”

  Pierce blushed, looking down at his plate. “I’m good at school work. Not everything.”

  “School work is a wonderful thing to be good at,” said Mother.

  Seb showed something to Father from the newspaper and they both chuckled. Caroline blinked. Seb looked more like a man than a boy this morning. What had happened to her little boy? He wanted to study law and become a judge, his whole life mapped out before him, which frightened her, knowing how way leads to way, as Robert Frost said. She wished he were more open to the possibility of diversions, rather than being sure of what he wanted. There were many ways he could be disappointed, wanting things the way he did. She hated to think of anything disappointing her children or breaking their hearts. Her mother claimed that this was the fundamental lie of motherhood: by our simple will or actions, we could keep our children from harm.

  In the past week, Julius had come to dinner three times. To see him at their dinner table interacting with the children, hungry for details of their lives since he’d last saw them, had filled her with joy. Only once did she think of Miller. You’re missing it all. And for what?

  She dismissed further dwelling. Here she was at the beach house with her parents and her beautiful children, and Julius. This is enough. Look at all she had, and one couldn’t have everything.

  “What’s everyone doing today?” she asked, as she took a bite of eggs.

  The three children all started talking at once, but fortunately, Caroline had ears enough for all three.

  **

  Later that morning, after her walk and a bath, she sat on the porch with a book. Behind her, the screen door opened and closed. It was Seb with a glass of lemonade in his hand. He set the drink on the small table between them, then sat next to her. “Margaret wondered if you were thirsty. She sent this out for you.”

  She patted his arm. He was warm, his skin flushed. “How kind.”

  “She wants to know what you would like for lunch. ‘Anything her heart desires’ was the exact instruction.” He smiled at her. Seb, rosy-cheeked, wore tennis clothes, his long legs already brown from the sun. Given his sleek face and sweaty hair, she gathered he’d just returned from the courts.

  “Chicken salad sandwiches sound delicious,” she said.

  “They always remind me of picnics here with Nana,” he said.

  “Me too. You look warm. Perhaps you should drink the lemonade?”

  “Margaret said specifically it was for you.” He grinned and shuddered.

  Caroline laughed. “Yes, she’s not to be disobeyed.”

  “Mother, I’ve been invited to Robert’s for a few days. His parents are having their annual garden party and the whole gang will be there. Would it be all right if I went?”

  “How lovely. We’ll send some wine for his parents as a thank you,” she said. “When will you go?”

  “Next week, if it’s all right with you.”

  “I’ll miss you, but you must go. I want you to enjoy every moment of your youth. It goes too quickly.” She shivered, imagining if she’d had to send him off to war.

  “Mama, are you cold?” asked Seb.

  “No. I was thinking of the war. I’m thankful it’s over.”

  “Were you worried I’d have to go?”

  “Night and day. Between that and fretting over Julius, I’m surprised I slept a wink the last four years.”

  “Julius was brave, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes. Very brave.”

  “He doesn’t want to talk about anything that happened over there, does he?” asked Seb.

  “I think he wants to forget.”

  Seb looked out to sea, then ran his hand through his hair before turning back to her. “Mother, may I ask you a question?” He shifted in his seat, shuffling his feet before intertwining them.

  “Anything.”

  “What does Father think of the new baby coming?”

  “Well, let’s see.” Caroline stalled, wanting to answer carefully, knowing that Seb would see through it if she was too ebullient in description. “He was surprised. He guessed the truth, actually, because I’ve been ill.”

  “Why isn’t he here with us?” asked Seb.

  “You know the answer to that question. Work.”

  “I’ll be here for you, to help and do anything you need.”

  “You’r
e a good boy, but I have Mother and Nanny Brown. She’s been with us so long and through three babies, I think we’ll be fine.” She smiled at him, feeling worried. Something was bothering him.

  He stared down at his hands. “Why didn’t Father fight in the war?”

  She blinked. What was this about? “He tried to enlist, but they wouldn’t take him.”

  “Because of his heart condition?”

  “That’s right.”

  “But some men lied about stuff like that and went anyway. Isn’t that true?” asked Seb.

  “I don’t know, sweetheart.”

  “Well, I do,” he said.

  “Is that what’s bothering you?” she asked.

  He let out a long sigh. “Several things are bothering me. Do you know for certain he has a heart condition?”

  She cocked her head to the right, observing him. His voice had wobbled when he asked the question. “He wasn’t properly cared for as an infant and it did something to his heart—you know, before he was brought to the orphanage.”

  “Has Uncle Julius ever examined him?” asked Seb.

  “No, he has his own doctor. Anyway, your father’s private about these things.”

  “It doesn’t seem to bother him when he plays tennis or golf. Yet he couldn’t fight in the war?”

  “Seb, what’s gotten into you?”

  “I don’t believe him, that’s what. And I can’t decide which is worse. Lying about an illness you don’t have or not lying to the army so he could fight with the rest of the men of this country.”

  “Seb. I don’t want to ever hear anything like this out of your mouth again. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Mother.” He rose to his feet, his eyes glistening with tears. “I’ll go tell Margaret about lunch.”

  “Thank you.”

  Seb wiped his nose before walking back in the house, letting the screen door slam behind him. The mourning doves cooed.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Phil

  HENRY DROVE THEM SOUTH on Highway 101, with the front windows of his Oldsmobile rolled down, letting in the glorious sea air. Phil wore a scarf around her head and sunglasses Henry had bought her last week during their trip to San Francisco to buy fabric for her designs. “I noticed you squinting when we went to the beach, and we can’t have that,” he said. “You’re a Californian now.”