Page 15 of The Shell Collector
“Want to see my best shells?” Hailey asked.
“I do.” Amanda leaned over. Hailey had kept five: the big scallop shell, two twisty-looking shells, a pink one, and another that was black. “They are all pretty. I bet it was a hard decision.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“How many did you save?” she asked Jesse.
“One.” He held up a finger.
“Where is it?”
He looked around, then brushed the sand with his hand. “Oh no.” He pulled his arms up, making tight fists, and ran toward the water where they’d dumped the shells. Amanda jogged behind him. Bless his little heart.
He squatted, leaning over his knees to look through the pile. His lower lip protruded. He brushed his hand through the shells again. Amanda’s heart tugged as he searched in earnest. Finally, he lifted a shell in the air.
“This one!”
It was a pretty bluish color and twisty. “I love it.”
“Me too.” He blew her a kiss.
“All right, then. Let’s go home and eat some lunch.”
As they walked back over the dune, she looked toward Maeve’s house. Amanda was sorry Maeve hadn’t been there today to see the kids so excited about collecting shells. She had a feeling their new friend would have taken delight in it.
The three of them walked through the soft sand until Hailey stopped in the middle of the path.
“Mom, look!” Hailey dived for the large shell sitting right on top of the sand. She lifted it into the air. “It’s so heavy.”
Jesse ran to Hailey’s side. “Pretty.”
It was large and perfect. “Let me see,” Amanda said.
Hailey dusted the sand from the shell and handed it to her. “Look! There’s something written inside it.”
They walked this path every day. Amanda was surprised they hadn’t seen it before. Then again, they had never been looking for shells until now. The wind must have blown enough to uncover this one from the seagrass where it sat.
“What’s it say?” her daughter asked.
Amanda read the words to herself and then aloud: “All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on.—Havelock Ellis”
“Who is Have Lots?” A thoughtful look crossed Hailey’s face. “He must be really lucky.”
“Havelock Ellis. That’s the person who first said that.”
“Did he write it in our shell?” Hailey always had to have all the answers.
“No, I don’t think so.” The quote hung in her mind.Living lies?No, it wasn’t aboutliving lies;it was about how the art of living was achieved. It was such a simple quote, but it grabbed her, provoking her. How was someone supposed to recognize what to let go of and what to hold on to?
She thought of Jack’s shirt still hanging on the back of her dressing-table chair as if he might grab it and put it on tomorrow. Some nights she still slipped it on before she climbed into bed. Certainly, after two years, any scent of him had to be long gone, but she swore she could smell him when she wore it.I couldn’t.Letting go of that meant letting go of Jack.
She tipped the shell up, reading it again.
Why am I taking this so personally?It’s a random find.
“Can we keep it, Mom?” Hailey asked.
“We sure can.” The quote rolled in her mind.
