Page 73 of The Beachgoers
And Jason sees how casual they all are now as they each hold a glass of wine and easily talk. Shane skims a stone out over the still water. Celia, beside him, says she can’t tell how many skips the stone makes in the darkness. So when Shane gives another flat stone a good sidearm throw, everyone quiets. They all listen for the tiny splashes that stone might make as it skips and hops over the sea.
They’re right, too. Itisgetting dark out. That low crescent moon shines just faintly enough to turn the night sky deep pastel blue. Wispy gray clouds streak the blushed horizon. And a salty breeze touches them all. Maris tucks back a windblown strand of hair. And there, Kyle and Lauren press into each other. Nearby, Matt and Nick have a laugh together. To the side, Shane whispers to Celia, his hand brushing her shoulder as he does.
Everyone. Here, there. Scattered… but close.
Tonight, they’ve all come back to Stony Point—all the beachgoers.
Some willingly, some maybe not.
But here they stand, where the waves forever break.
The architect.
The novelist.
The sister.
The cop.
The innkeeper.
The commissioner.
The beach guard.
The lobsterman.
The new mother.
The diner cook.
The painter.
The ghost.
All of them. Their glimpses, their looks, lost in the night’s shadows. Their words, their murmurs, vague in the sound of the waves.
