Page 65 of These Summer Storms

She nodded, unable to keep the pride from her voice when she said, “One of the island’s best secrets.” There were few things she loved more than the little strip of sand, dotted with treasures churned from the seafloor, left to be discovered for a heartbeat before they were returned to the mysteries of the Bay.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Jack advancing. She straightened, hesitating, heart in her throat. “I bet you brought all the boys here,” he said.

She couldn’t stop the laugh at the idea, as though there were any way boys would end up on the island and not be decimated by her family. Hadn’t he been paying attention? “Oh sure. Tons,” she said, bending to pull a bright white shell from where it peeked out of the wet surf.

He indicated the slate steps. “Where do those go?”

“Up to the woods behind the big oak.”

“Along the cliff face? I’m feeling better about having to swim back tothe boat.” He punctuated the statement with a grimace, one she knew was for show. She’d bet this man could climb those steps without breaking a sweat.

“Then it will be a race back to the house,” she said, leaning down to rinse her find off in the ocean.

“I don’t love the home team advantage.” Jack was close enough to see her treasure now—the most perfect sand dollar she’d ever found. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen one of those in the wild.” The words were quiet, a momentary respite from whatever it was they were doing.

“They only look like this when they’re dead.” She extended her hand, the flat shell filling her palm. “Still cool, though. Prehistoric.”

He reached for it. “May I?”

“Sure.”

A slight graze of his fingers over her palm, warm and sure, before he lifted it for inspection. “One summer, when I was about nine or ten, this was my Storm Olympics task.”

His gaze snapped up from the sand dollar. “What does that mean?”

“He dropped me here at low tide.” She pointed up the cliffside. “The test was to find my way back to the house.”

“What?” He was horrified. “You were nine?”

“Or ten.”

“Well sure,” he scoffed. “That’s totally different and not at all unhinged.”

“That was my dad.” She shrugged, considering the cliff wall, suddenly realizing how unhinged it was to leave a child here, alone, to face it. She shook it off. “It wasn’t that hard. I just had to climb.”

“And if you’d fallen? If you’d been hurt, and the tide had come back in?”

“I didn’t. I wasn’t.”

“But you could have been.”

She couldn’t help her little smile, her pleasure at his outrage. “But I wasn’t. I hung around here for a while. Explored until the tide returned. And then I climbed up and went home.”

The memory of that afternoon flashed bright and clear, the blue sky, the green trees, the triumph she’d felt when she got to the top of thesteps. When she’d come through the woods and approached her father’s glass-walled office from the outside and banged on the window. He’d turned, phone to his ear, and nodded through the glass, the closest she’d ever gotten to his approval.

She pushed the memory away. “Anyway, I like it here.”

Jack looked like he had something to say—to her, maybe. To Franklin. To the rest of the family—but he stayed quiet.

Pointing to the sand dollar he still held, forgotten, she said, “They’re weird little dudes. In calm waters, they stand up on their sides, vertical. And usually in groups.”

“And what about when it’s rough seas?”

“They lie flat and isolate themselves. For protection.” She paused. “The best way to weather storms.” He wasn’t looking at the round white disc any longer. Alice cleared her throat. “You should keep it.”

“A peace offering?”

The question came with a little tease, and she matched it, grateful for the way he let her change the subject. Tossing him a smile as he pocketed the sand dollar, she turned away. “A suggestion.”

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