Isuppose I should explain why I jumped into the waves

to retrieve her bag. It wasn't that I thought she would view me as some sort of hero, or because I wanted to impress her, or even because I cared in the slightest how much money she'd lost. It had to do with the genuineness of her smile and the warmth of her laugh. Even as I was plunging into the water, I knew how ridiculous my reaction was, but by then it was too late. I hit the water,

went under, and popped to the surface. Four faces stared down at me from the railing. Pink shirt was definitely annoyed.

“Where is it?” I shouted up at them.

“Right over there!” the brunette shouted. "I think I can still see

it. It's going down...."

It took a minute to locate it in the deepening twilight, and the

surge of the ocean was doing its best to drive me into the pier. I swam to the side, then held the bag above the water as best I could, despite the fact that it was already soaking. The waves made the swim back to shore less difficult than I'd feared, and every now and then I'd look up and see the four people following along with me.

I finally felt bottom and trudged out of the surf. I shook the

water from my hair, started up the sand, and met them halfway up the beach. I held out the bag.

“Here you go.”

“Thank you,” the brunette said, and when her eyes met mine, I

felt something click, like a key turning in a lock. Believe me, I'm no romantic, and while I've heard all about love at first sight, I've never believed in it, and I still don't. But even so, there was something there, something recognizably real, and I couldn't look away.

Up close, she was more beautiful than I'd first realized, but it had less to do with the way she looked than the way she was. It wasn't just her slightly gap-toothed smile, it was the casual way she swiped at a loose strand of hair, the easy way she held herself.

“You didn't have to do that,” she said with something like wonder in her voice. “I would have gotten it.”

“I know.” I nodded. “I saw you getting ready to jump.”

She tilted her head to the side. “But you felt an uncontrollable need to help a lady in distress?”

“Something like that.”

She evaluated my answer for a moment, then turned her attention to the bag. She began removing items—her wallet, sunglasses, visor, a tube of sunscreen—and handed them all to the blonde before wringing out the bag.

“Your pictures got wet,” said the blonde, flicking through the wallet.

The brunette ignored her, continuing to wring one way and then the next. When she was finally satisfied, she took back the items and reloaded her bag.

“Thank you again,” she said. Her accent was different from

that of eastern North Carolina, more of a twang, as if she'd grown up in the mountains near Boone or near the South Carolina border in the west.

“No big deal,” I mumbled, but I didn't move.

“Hey, maybe he wants a reward,” pink shirt broke in, his voice loud.

She glanced at him, then back at me. “Do you want a reward?” “No.” I waved a hand. “Just glad to help.”

“I always knew chivalry wasn't dead,” she proclaimed. I tried to detect a note of teasing, but I heard nothing in her tone to indicate that she was poking fun at me.

Orange shirt gave me the once-over, noting my crew cut. “Are you in the marines?” he asked. He tightened his arms around the blonde again.

I shook my head. “I'm not one of the few or the proud. I wanted to be all that I could be, so I joined the army.”

The brunette laughed. Unlike my dad, she'd actually seen the commercials.

“I'm Savannah,” she said. “Savannah Lynn Curtis. And these are Brad, Randy, and Susan.” She held out her hand.

“I'm John Tyree,” I said, taking it. Her hand was warm, velvety soft in places but callused in others. I was suddenly conscious of how long it had been since I'd touched a woman.

“Well, I feel like I should do something for you.” “You don't need to do anything.”

“Have you eaten?” she asked, ignoring my comment. “We're getting ready to have a cookout, and there's plenty to go around. Would you like to join us?”

The guys traded glances. Pink-shirted Randy looked downright glum, and I'll admit that made me feel better. He;y, maybe he wants

a reward. What a putz.

“Yeah, come on,” Brad finally added, sounding less than thrilled. “It'll be fun. We're renting the place next to the pier.” He pointed to one of the houses on the beach, where half a dozen people lounged on the deck out back.

Even though I had no desire to spend time with more frat brothers, Savannah smiled at me with such warmth that the words were out before I could stop them.

“Sounds good. Let me go grab my board from the pier and I'll be there in a bit.”

“We'll meet you there,” Randy piped up. He took a step toward Savannah, but she ignored him.

“I'll walk with you,” Savannah said, breaking away from the

group, “It's the least I can do.” She adjusted the bag on her shoulder. “See you all in a few, okay?”

We started toward the dune, where the stairs would lead us up

to the pier. Her friends lingered for a minute, but when she fell in step beside me, they slowly turned and began making their way down the beach. From the corner of my eye, I saw the blonde turn her head and glance our way from beneath Brad's arm. Randy did too, sulking. I wasn't sure that Savannah even noticed until we'd walked a few steps.

“Susan probably thinks I'm crazy for doing this,” she said. “Doing what?”

“Walking with you. She thinks Randy's perfect for me, and she's been trying to get us together since we got here this afternoon. He's been following me around all day.”

I nodded, unsure how to respond. In the distance, the moon, full

and glowing, had begun its slow rise from the sea, and I saw Savannah staring at it. When the waves crashed and spilled, they flared

silver, as if caught in a camera's flash. We reached the pier. The railing was gritty with sand and salt, and the wood was weathered and beginning to splinter. The steps creaked as we ascended. “Where are you stationed?” she asked.

“In Germany. I'm home on leave for a couple of weeks to visit my dad. And you're from the mountains, I take it?”

She glanced at me in surprise. “Lenoir.” She studied me. “Let me guess, my accent, right? You think I sound like I'm from the sticks, don't you.”

“Not at all.”

“Well, I am. From the sticks, I mean. I grew up on a ranch and everything. And yes, I know I have an accent, but I've been told that some people find it charming.”

“Randy seemed to think so.”

It slipped out before I could catch myself. In the awkward silence, she ran a hand through her hair.

“Randy seems like a nice young man,” she remarked after a bit, “but I don't know him that well. I don't really know most of the people in the house all that well, except for Tim and Susan.” She waved a mosquito away. “You'll meet Tim later. He's a great guy. You'll like him. Everybody does.”

“And you're all down here on vacation for a week?”

“A month, actually—but no, it's not really a vacation. We're volunteering. You've heard of Habitat for Humanity, right? We're down here to help build a couple of houses. My family's been involved with it for years.”

Over her shoulder, the house seemed to be coming to life in the darkness. More people had materialized, the music had been turned up, and every now and then I could hear laughter. Brad, Susan, and Randy were already surrounded by a group of coeds drinking beer and looking less like do-gooders than college kids trolling for a good time and a chance to hook up with someone of

the opposite sex. She must have noticed my expression and followed my gaze.

“We don't start until Monday. They'll find out soon enough that it's not all fun and games.”

“I didn't say anything....”

“You didn't have to. But you're right. For most of them, it's their first time working with Habitat, and they're just doing it so they have something different to put on their resume when they graduate. They have no idea how much work is actually involved. In the end, though, all that matters is that the houses get built, and they will. They always do.”

“You've done this before?”

"Every summer since I was sixteen. I used to do it with our church,

but when I went off to Chapel Hill, we started a group there. Well, actually, Tim started it. He's from Lenoir, too. He just graduated and

he'll start on his master's degree this fall. I've known him forever.

Instead of spending the summer working odd jobs at home or doing internships, we thought we could offer students a chance to make a difference. Everyone chips in for the house and pays their own expenses for the month, and we don't charge anything for the labor we

do on the houses. That's why it was so important that I get my bag back. I wouldn't have been able to eat all month."

“I'm sure they wouldn't have let you starve.”

“I know, but it wouldn't be fair. They're already doing something worthy, and that's more than enough.”

I could feel my feet slipping in the sand.

“Why Wilmington?” I asked. “I mean, why come here to build houses, instead of somewhere like Lenoir or Raleigh?” "Because of the beach. You know how people are. It's hard enough to get students to volunteer their time for a month, but

it's easier if it's in a place like this. And the more people you have, the more you can do. Thirty people signed up this year."

I nodded, conscious of how close together we were walking. “And you graduated, too?”

“No, I'll be a senior. And I'm majoring in special education, if that's your next question.”

“It was.”

“I figured. When you're in college, that's what everyone asks you.”

“Everyone asks me if I like being in the army.” “Do you?”

“I don't know.”

She laughed, and the sound was so melodic that I knew I wanted to hear it again.

We reached the end of the pier, and I grabbed my board. I

tossed the empty beer bottle into the garbage can, hearing it clank to the bottom. Stars were coming out overhead, and the lights from the houses outlined along the dunes reminded me of bright jack-o'-lanterns.

“Do you mind if I ask what led you to join the army ? Given that you don't know whether you like it, I mean.”

It took me a second to figure out how to answer that, and I

shifted my surfboard to my other arm. “I think it's safest to say that at the time, 1 needed to.”

She waited for me to add more, but when I didn't, she simply nodded.

“I'll bet you're glad to be back home for a little while,” she said. “Without a doubt.”

“I'll bet your father is glad, too, huh?” “I think so.”

“He is. I'm sure he's very proud of you.” “I hope so.”

“You sound like you're not certain.”

“You'd have to meet my dad to understand. He's not much of a talker.”

I could see the moonlight reflected in her dark eyes, and her voice was soft when she spoke. “He doesn't have to talk to be proud of you. He might be the kind of father who shows it in other ways.”

I thought about that, hoping it was true. While I considered it,

there was a loud scream from the house, and I caught sight of a couple of coeds near the fire. One of the guys had his arms wrapped around a girl and was pushing her forward; she was laughing and fighting him off. Brad and Susan were snuggling together nearby, but Randy had vanished.

“You said you don't know most of the people you'll be living with?”

She shook her head, her hair sweeping her shoulders. She swiped at another strand. "Not too well. We met most of them for the first time at the sign-up, then again today when we got here. I mean, we might have seen each other around campus now and then, and I think a lot of them know each other already, but I don't. Most of them are in fraternities and sororities. I still live in a dorm. They're

a nice bunch, though."

As she answered, I got the feeling she was the kind of person who would never say a bad thing about anyone. Her regard for others struck me as refreshing and mature, and yet, strangely, I wasn't surprised. It was part of that indefinable quality I'd sensed about her from the beginning, a manner that set her apart.

“How old are you?” 1 asked as we approached the house. “Twenty-one. 1 just had a birthday last month. You?” “Twenty-three. Do you have brothers and sisters?”

“No. I was an only child. Just me and my folks. My parents still live in Lenoir, and they're happy as clams after twenty-five years. Your turn.”

“The same. Except for me, it's always been just me and my dad.” I knew my answer would lead to a follow-up about the status of my mother, but to my surprise, it didn't come. Instead she asked, “Was he the one who taught you to surf?”

“No, I picked that up on my own when I was a kid.”

“You're good. I was watching you earlier. You made it look so easy, graceful even. It made me wish I knew how.”

“I'd be happy to teach you if you want to learn,” I volunteered. “It's not that hard. I'll be out tomorrow.”

She stopped and fixed her gaze on me. “Now, don't make offers you're not sure you intend to keep.” She reached for my arm, leaving me speechless, then motioned toward the bonfire. “You ready to meet some people?”

I swallowed, feeling a sudden dryness in my throat, which was

just about the strangest thing that had ever happened to me.

The house was one of those big three-storied monsters with the garage on the bottom and probably six or seven bedrooms. A massive deck circled the main level; towels were slung over the railings,

and I could hear the sound of multiple conversations coming

from all directions. A grill stood on the deck, and I could smell

the hot dogs and chicken cooking; the guy leaning over it was shirtless and wearing a do-rag, trying to come across as urban cool. It wasn't working, but it did make me laugh.

On the sand out front, the fire was set into a pit, with several girls

in oversize sweatshirts seated in chairs circling it, all pretending to be oblivious to the boys around them. Meanwhile, the guys stood just beyond them, looking as if they were trying to pose in a way that accentuated the size of their arms or sculpted abs and acting as

if they didn't notice the girls at all. I'd seen all this at Leroy's before; educated or not, kids were still kids. They were in their early twenties, and lust was in the air. Throw in the beach and beer,

and I could guess what would happen later; but 1 would be long gone by then.

When Savannah and I drew near, she slowed before pointing. “How about over there, by the dune?” she suggested.

“Sure.”

We took a seat facing the fire. A few of the other girls stared, checking out the new guy, before retreating into their conversations. Randy finally wandered toward the fire with a beer, saw Savannah and me, and quickly turned his back, following the example

of the girls.

“Chicken or hot dog?” she asked, seemingly oblivious to all of this.

“Chicken.”

“What do you want to drink?”

The firelight made her look newly mysterious. “Whatever you're having's fine. Thanks.”

“I'll be right back.”

She headed toward the steps, and I forced myself not to follow. Instead I walked toward the fire, slipped off my shirt, and laid it over an empty chair, then returned to my seat. Glancing up, I saw do-rag flirting with Savannah, felt a surge of tension, then turned away to get a better grip on things. I knew little about her and knew even less about what she thought of me. Besides, I had no desire to start something I couldn't finish. I was leaving in a couple of weeks, and none of this would amount to any thing; I told myself all those things, and I think I partially convinced myself that I'd

head home just as soon as I finished eating, when my thoughts were interrupted by the sight of someone approaching. Tall and lanky, with dark hair that was already receding parted neatly to the side,

he reminded me of those guys you met from time to time who looked middle-aged from birth.

“You must be John,” he said with a smile, squatting in front of me. “My name's Tim Wheddon.” He extended his hand. “I heard what you did for Savannah—I know she was grateful you were there.”

I shook his hand. “It's nice to meet you.”

Despite my initial wariness, his smile was more genuine than

either Brad's or Randy's had been. Nor did he mention my tattoos, which was unusual. I suppose I should mention they weren't exactly small and covered most of my arms. People have told me I'll regret it when I'm older, but at the time I got them, I really didn't care. I

still don't.

“Do you mind if I take a seat?” he asked. “Help yourself.”

He made himself comfortable, neither crowding me nor sitting too far away. “I'm glad you could come. I mean, it's not much, but the food's good. Are you hungry?”

“Actually, I'm starved.” “Surfing will do that to you.” “Do you surf?”

“No, but spending time in the ocean always makes me hungry. I remember that from being on vacation as a kid. We used to go to Pine Knoll Shores every summer. Have you been there?”

“Only once. I had all I needed here.”

“Yeah, I suppose you did.” He motioned to my board. “You like the long boards, huh?”

“I like 'em both, but the waves here are better suited for the long ones. You need to ride in the Pacific to really enjoy a short board.”

“Have you been there? Hawaii, Bali, New Zealand, places like that? I've read they're the ultimate.”

“Not yet,” I said, surprised he'd know about them. “One day, maybe.”

A log crackled, sending small sparks up to the sky. I brought my hands together, knowing it was my turn. “I hear you're here to build some homes for the poor.”

“Did Savannah tell you that? Yeah, that's the plan, anyway. They're for a couple of really deserving families, and hopefully they'll be in their own homes by the end of July.”

“That's a good thing you're doing.”

“It's not just me. But hey, I wanted to ask you something.” “Let me guess, you want me to volunteer?”

He laughed. "No, nothing like that. That's funny, though—I've

heard that before. People see me coming and usually they run the other way. I guess I'm way too easy to read. Anyway, I know it's a long shot, but I was wondering if you know my cousin. He's stationed at Fort Bragg."

“Sorry,” I said. “I'm posted in Germany.” “At Ramstein?”

“No. That's the air force base. But I'm relatively close. Why?” "I was in Frankfurt last December. I spent Christmas there with

my family. That's where we're originally from, and my grandparents still live there."

“Small world.”

“Have you learned any German?” “Not a bit.”

"Me neither. The sad thing is, my parents are fluent and I've

heard it at home for years, and I even took a class in it before I went. But I just didn't get it, you know? I think I was lucky to pass the class, and all I could do was nod at the dinner table and pretend

I understood what everyone was saying. The only saving grace was that my brother was in the same boat, so we could feel like morons together."

I laughed. He had an open, honest face, and despite myself, I liked him.

“Hey, can I get you anything?” he asked. “Savannah's taking care of it.”

“I should have guessed. Perfect hostess and all that. Always has been.”

“She said you two grew up together?”

He nodded. "Her family's ranch is right next to ours. We went

to the same schools and attended the same church for years, and then we were at the same university. She's kind of like my little sister. She's special."

Despite the sister comment, I got the impression by the way he said “special” that his feelings ran a little deeper than he was letting on. But unlike Randy, he didn't seem at all jealous about the

fact that she'd invited me here. Before I could puzzle over it, Savannah appeared on the stairs and stepped onto the sand.

“I see you met Tim,” she said, nodding. In one hand were two plates with chicken, potato salad, and chips; in the other were two cans of Diet Pepsi.

“Yeah, I just wanted to come over and thank him for what he did,” Tim explained, “then decided to bore him with family stories.” “Good. I was hoping you two would have a chance to meet.”

She held up her hands; like Tim, she ignored the fact that I was shirtless. “The food's ready. Would you like my plate, Tim? 1 can go up and get another.”

“Nah, I'll get it,” Tim said, standing. "Thanks, though. I'll let you

two dig in.“ He brushed the sand from his shorts. ”Hey, it was nice meeting you, John. If you're in the area again tomorrow or whenever, you're always welcome."

“Thanks. Nice meeting you, too.”

A moment later, Tim was heading up the stairs. He didn't look back, merely called out a friendly hello to someone going in the opposite direction, then bounded up the rest of the way. Savannah handed me the plate and some plastic utensils,

switched hands and offered me a soda, then took a seat beside me. Close, I noticed, but not quite close enough to touch. She propped her plate on her lap, then reached for her can before hesitating. She held up the can.

"You were drinking beer earlier, but you said to get whatever I

was getting, so I brought you one of these. I wasn't quite sure what you wanted."

“The soda's fine.”

"You sure? There's plenty of beer in the coolers, and I've heard

about you army guys."

I snorted. “I'm sure,” I said, opening my can. “I take it you don't drink.”

“I don't,” she said. No defensiveness or smugness in her tone, I noted, just the truth. I liked that.

She ate a bite of her chicken. I did the same, and in the silence,

I wondered about her and Tim and whether she was aware of how he really felt about her. And I wondered how she felt about him. There was something there, but I couldn't figure it out, unless Tim was right and it was a sibling-type thing. I somehow doubted that was the case.

“What do you do in the army?” she asked, finally putting down her fork.

“I'm a sergeant in the infantry. Weapons squad.”

“What's it like? I mean, what do you do every day? Do you shoot guns, or blow things up, or what?”

"Sometimes. But actually, it's pretty boring most of the time, at

least when we're on base. We assemble in the morning, usually around six or so, make sure everyone's there, and then we break into squads to exercise. Basketball, running, weight lifting, whatever. Sometimes there's a class that day, anything from assembling

and reassembling our weapons, or a night-terrain class, or we might head to the rifle range, or whatever. If nothing's planned,

we just head back to the barracks and play video games or read or work out again or whatever for the rest of the day. Then we reassemble at four o'clock and find out what we're doing tomorrow.

Then we're done.“ ”Video games?"

“I work out and read. But my buddies are experts at games. And the more violent the game, the more they like it.”

“What do you read?”

I told her, and she considered it. “And what happens when you're sent to a war zone?”

“Then,” I said, finishing my chicken, "it's different. There's

guard duty, and things are always breaking and need to be fixed, so you're busy, even when you're not out on patrol. But the infantry are the forces on the ground, so we spend a big chunk of our

time away from camp.“ ”Do you ever get scared?"

I searched for the right answer. "Yeah. Sometimes. It's not like you're walking around terrified all the time, even when things are going t6 hell all around you. It's just that you're ... reacting, trying

to stay alive. Things are happening so fast that you don't have time to think much of anything except doing your job and trying not to die. It usually affects you afterward, once you're clear. That's when you realize how close you came, and sometimes you get the shakes

or puke or whatever."

“I'm not sure I could do what you do.”

I wasn't sure if she expected a response to that, so I switched topics. “Why special education?” I asked.

“It's kind of a long story. You sure you want to hear it?” When I nodded, she drew a long breath.

"There's this boy in Lenoir named Alan, and I've known him all

my life. He's autistic, and for a long time no one knew what to do with him or how to get through to him. And it just got to me, you know?

I felt so bad for him, even when I was little. When I asked my parents about it, they said that maybe the Lord had special plans for him. It didn't make any sense at first, but Alan had an older brother who was so patient with him all the time. I mean always. He never got frustrated with him, and little by little, he helped Alan. Alan's not perfect

by any stretch—he still lives with his parents, and he'll never be

on his own—but he's not as lost as he was when he was younger, and I just decided that I wanted to be able to help kids like Alan."

“How old were you when you decided that?” “Twelve.”

“And you want to work with them in a school?”

“No,” she said. “I want to do what Alan's brother did. He used horses.” She paused, collecting her thoughts. "With autistic kids ... it's like they're locked into their own little worlds, so usually school

and therapy are based on routine. But I want to show them experiences that can open new doors for them. I've seen it happen. I mean,

Alan was terrified of the horses at first, but his brother kept trying, and after a while, Alan got to the point where he would pat them or rub their noses, then later even feed them. After that, he started to ride, and I remember watching his face the first time he was up there ... it was just so incredible, you know? I mean, he was smiling, just

as happy as a kid could be. And that's what I want these kids to experience. Just... happiness, even if it's only for a short while. That's

when I knew exactly what I wanted to do with my life. Maybe open a riding camp for autistic kids, where we can really work with them. So maybe they can feel that same happiness that Alan did."

She put down her fork as if embarrassed, then set her plate off to the side.

“That sounds wonderful.”

“We'll see if it happens,” she said, sitting up again. “It's just a dream for now.”

“I take it you like horses, too?”

“All girls love horses. Don't you know that? But yes, I do. I have an Arabian named Midas, and it kills me sometimes that I'm here when I could be off riding him.”

“The truth comes out.”

"As it should. But I'm still planning to stay here. I'll ride all day,

every day, when I get back. Do you ride?“ ”I did once."

“Did you like it?”

“I was sore the next day. It hurt to walk.”

She giggled, and I realized I liked talking to her. It was easy and natural, unlike with so many people. Above me, I could see Orion's belt; just over the horizon on the water, Venus had appeared and glowed a heavy white. Guys and girls continued to tramp up and down the stairs, flirting with booze-induced courage. I sighed.

“I should probably get going so I can visit with my dad for a while. He's probably wondering where I am. If he's still awake, that is.” “Do you want to call him? You can use the phone.”

“No, I think I'll just head out. It's a long walk.” “You don't have a car?”

“No. I hitched a ride this morning.”

“Do you want Tim to drive you home? I'm sure he won't mind.” “No, that's okay.”

“Don't be ridiculous. You said it was a long walk, right? I'll have Tim drive you. Let me get him.”

She raced off before I could stop her, and a minute later Tim was following her out of the house. “Tim is happy to take you,” she said, looking way too pleased with herself.

I turned toward Tim. “You sure?”

“No problem at all,” he assured me. “My truck's out front. You can just put your board in the back.” He motioned to the board. “Need a hand?”

“No,” I said, rising, “I got it.” I went to the chair and slipped on my shirt, then picked up my board. “Thanks, by the way.”

“My pleasure,” he said. He patted his pocket. “I'll be back in a second with the keys. It's the green truck parked on the grass. I'll meet you out front.”

When he was gone, I turned back to Savannah. “It was nice meeting you.”

She held my gaze. “You too. I've never hung out with a soldier before. I felt sort of... protected. I don't think Randy'll give me any trouble tonight. Your tattoos probably scared him away.”

I guess she had noticed them. “Maybe I'll see you around.” “You know where I'll be.”

I wasn't sure whether that meant she wanted me to come visit again or didn't. In many ways, she remained a complete mystery to me. Then again, I barely knew her at all.

“But I am a little disappointed that you forgot,” she added, almost as an afterthought.

“Forgot what?”

“Didn't you say that you'd teach me how to surf?”

If Tim had any inkling of the effect Savannah had on me or that I'd

be visiting again the next day, he gave no indication. Instead he focused mainly on the drive, making sure he was heading in the right direction. He was the kind of driver who stopped the car even when the light was yellow and he could have sailed through.

“I hope you had a good time,” he said. “I know it's always strange when you don't know anyone.”

“I did.”

“You and Savannah really hit it off. She's something, isn't she? I think she liked you.”

“We had a nice conversation,” I said.

"I'm glad. I was a little worried about her coming down here. Last year her parents were with us, so this is the first time she's been on her own like this. I know she's a big girl, but these aren't the kind

of people she usually hangs out with, and the last thing I wanted was for her to be fending off guys all night."

“I'm sure she could have handled it.”

“You're probably right. But I get the feeling that some of these guys are pretty persistent.”

“Of course they are. They're guys.”

He laughed. “I guess you're right.” He motioned toward the window. “Which way now?”

I directed him through a series of turns, then finally I told him to slow the car. He stopped in front of the house, where I could see the light from my dad's den, glowing yellow.

“Thanks for the ride,” I said, opening my door.

“No problem.” He leaned over the seat. “And listen, like I said, feel free to stop by the house anytime. We work during the week, but weekends and evenings are usually clear.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” I promised.

Once inside, I went to my dad's den and opened the door. He was peering at the Greysheet and jumped. I realized he hadn't heard me come in.

“Sorry,” I said, taking a seat on the single step that separated the den from the rest of the house. “Didn't mean to scare you.” “It's okay,” was all he said. He debated whether to set aside the Greysheet, then did.

“The waves were great today,” I commented. “I'd almost forgotten how fantastic the water feels.”

He smiled but again said nothing. I shifted slightly on the step. “How'd work go?” I asked.

“The same,” he said.

He lapsed back into his own thoughts, and all I could think was that the same thing could be said about our conversations.