Time is relative. I know I'm not the first to realize it and

far from the most famous, and my realization had nothing to do with energy or mass or the speed of light or anything else Einstein might have postulated. Rather, it had to do with the drag of hours while I waited for Savannah.

After my dad and I finished dinner, I thought about her; I

thought of her again soon after I woke. I spent the day surfing, and though the waves were better than they'd been the day before, I couldn't really concentrate and decided to call it quits by midafternoon. I debated whether or not to grab a cheeseburger at a little

place by the beach—the best burgers in town, by the way—but even though I was in the mood, I just went home, hoping that I could talk Savannah into a burger later. I read a bit of the latest Stephen King novel, showered and threw on a pair of jeans and a polo, then read for another couple of hours before glancing at the clock and realizing only twenty minutes had passed. That's what I meant by time being relative.

When my dad got home, he saw the way I was dressed and offered his keys.

“Are you going to see Savannah?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said, rising from the couch. I took the keys. “I might be late getting in.”

He scratched the back of his head. “Okay,” he said. “Breakfast tomorrow?”

“Okay.” For a reason I couldn't understand, he sounded almost scared.

“All right,” I said. “I'll see you later, okay?” “I'll probably be sleeping.”

“1 didn't mean it literally.” “Oh,” he said. “Okay.”

I headed for the door. Just as I opened it, I heard him sigh. “I'd like to meet Savannah, too,” he said in a voice so soft, I barely heard it.

The sky was still bright and the sun was bending light across the water when I arrived at the house. As I got out, I realized I was nervous. I couldn't remember the last time any girl had made me nervous, but I couldn't shake the thought that somehow things might have changed between us. 1 didn't know how or why I felt that way; all I knew was that I wasn't sure what I'd do if my fears proved correct.

I didn't bother knocking and simply wandered in. The living

room was empty, but I could hear voices down the hall, and there was the usual collection of people on the back deck. I stepped out, asking for Savannah, and was told she was at the beach.

I trotted down to the sand and froze when I saw her seated near the dune, next to Randy, Brad, and Susan. She hadn't noticed me, and I heard her laugh at something Randy said. She and Randy looked as much a couple as Susan and Brad. I knew they weren't, that they were probably just talking about the house they were building or sharing experiences from the last couple of days, but I didn't like it. Nor did 1 like the fact that Savannah was sitting as close to Randy as she'd been to me. As I stood there, I wondered whether she even remembered our date, but she smiled when she saw me as if nothing were amiss.

“There you are,” she said. “1 was wondering when you'd show up.”

Randy grinned. Despite her comment, he wore an almost victorious expression. When the cat's away, the mice are at play, he seemed to be saying.

Savannah stood and ambled toward me. She was wearing a white sleeveless blouse and a light, flowing skirt that swayed when she walked. I could see the additional color on her shoulders that spoke of hours in the sun. When she got close, she stood on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on my cheek.

“Hi,” she said, circling an arm around my waist. “Hi.”

She leaned back slightly, as if evaluating my expression. “You look like you missed me,” she said, her voice teasing.

As usual, I couldn't think of a response, and she winked at my inability to admit that I had. “Maybe I missed you, too,” she added.

I touched her bare shoulder. “You ready to go?” “As I'll ever be,” she said.

We started toward the car and I reached for her hand, her touch

making me feel all was right with the world. Well, almost....

I straightened. “I saw you talking to Randy,” I said, trying to

keep my voice neutral.

She squeezed my hand. “You did, huh?”

I tried again. “I take it you two got to know each other while you were working.”

“We sure did. I was right, too. He's a nice young man. After he finishes here, he's heading up to New York for a six-week internship at Morgan Stanley.”

“Hmm,” I grunted.

She laughed under her breath. “Don't tell me you're jealous.” “I'm not.”

“Good,” she concluded, squeezing my hand again. “Because there's no reason to be.”

I hung on those last few words. She needn't have said them, but I couldn't be happier that she had. When we reached the car, I opened her door.

“I was thinking of taking you out to Oysters,” I said. “It's a nightclub a little way down the beach. They'll have a band later, and we could go dancing.”

“What are we doing until then?”

“Are you hungry?” I asked, thinking about the cheeseburger I'd passed on earlier. “A little,” she said. “I had a snack when I got back, so I'm not too hungry yet.”

“How about a walk on the beach?” “Hmm ... maybe later.”

It was obvious that she already had something in mind. “Why don't you tell me what you want to do?”

She brightened. “How about if we go say hi to your father.” I wasn't sure I'd heard her right. “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” she said. “Just for a little while. Then we can get something to eat and go out dancing.”

When I hesitated, she put a hand on my shoulder. “Please?”

I wasn't all that happy about going, but the way she asked made it impossible for me to say no. I was getting used to that, I suppose, but I would rather have had her all to myself for the rest of the evening. Nor did I understand why she wanted to see my dad tonight, unless it meant she wasn't quite as thrilled as I was at the

prospect of being alone. To be honest, the thought depressed me. Still, she was in a good mood as she talked about the work they'd accomplished over the last couple days. Tomorrow, they planned to start on the windows. Randy, it turned out, had worked alongside her on both days, which explained their “newfound friendship.” That's how she described it. I doubted Randy would have described his interest in the same way.

We pulled into the drive a few minutes later, and 1 noted the

light in my father's den. When 1 turned off the engine, I fiddled with the keys before getting out.

“1 told you my father is quiet, didn't I?”

“Yeah,” she said. “It doesn't matter, though. I just want to meet him.”

“Why?” I asked. I know how it sounded, but I couldn't help it. “Because,” she said, “he's your only family. And he was the one who raised you.”

Once my dad got over the shock of my return with Savannah in tow and the introductions were made, he ran a quick hand over his wispy hair and stared at the floor.

“I'm sorry we didn't call first, but don't blame John,” she said. “It was all my fault.”

“Oh,” he said. “It's okay.”

“Did we catch you at a bad time?”

“No.” He glanced up, then back to the floor again. “It's a pleasure to meet you,” he said.

For a moment, we all stood in the living room, none of us saying anything. Savannah wore an easy smile, but I wondered if my dad even realized it.

“Would you like something to drink?” he asked, as if suddenly remembering he was supposed to play host.

“I'm fine, thanks,” she said. “John tells me that you're quite the coin collector.”

He turned to me, as if wondering whether he should answer. “I try,” he finally said.

“Is that what we so rudely interrupted?” she asked, using the same teasing tone she used with me. To my surprise, I heard my dad give a nervous laugh. Not loud, but a laugh nonetheless: Amazing.

“No, you didn't interrupt. I was just examining a new coin I got today.”

As he spoke, I could sense him trying to gauge how I'd react. Savannah either didn't notice or pretended not to. “Really?” she asked.,“What kind?”

My dad shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Then,

to my astonishment, he looked up and asked her, “Would you like to see it?”

We spent forty minutes in the den.

For the most part, I sat in the den and listened to my dad tell

stories I knew by heart. Like most serious collectors, he kept only

a few coins at home, and I didn't have any idea where the rest of

them were stored. He would rotate part of the collection every

couple of weeks, new coins appearing as if by magic. Usually there were never more than a dozen in his office at any one time and

never anything valuable, but I got the impression that he could

have been showing Savannah a common Lincoln penny and she would have been entranced. She asked dozens of questions, questions either I or any book on coin collecting could have answered,

but as the minutes passed, her questions became more subtle. Instead of asking why a coin might be particularly valuable, she

asked when and where he'd found it, and she was treated to tales of boring weekends of my youth spent in places like Atlanta and Charleston and Raleigh and Charlotte.

My dad talked a lot about those trips. Well, for him, anyway. He

still had a tendency to retreat into himself for long stretches, but

he probably said more in those forty minutes to her than he'd said

to me since I'd arrived home. From my vantage point, I saw the passion she had referred to, but it was a passion I'd seen a thousand times before, and it didn't alter my opinion that he used coins as

a way to avoid life instead of embracing it. I'd stopped talking to him about coins because I wanted to talk about something else; my father stopped talking because he knew how I felt and could discuss nothing else.

And yet...

My dad was happy, and I knew it. I could see the way his eyes gleamed as he gestured to a coin, pointing out the mint mark or how crisp the stamp had been or how the value of a coin might differ because it had arrows or wreaths. He showed Savannah proof coins, coins minted at West Point, one of his favorite type to collect. He pulled out a magnifying glass to show her flaws, and when Savannah held the magnifying glass, I could see the animation on my father's face. Despite my feelings about coins, I couldn't help smiling, simply to see my father so happy.

But he was still my dad, and there was no miracle. Once he'd shown her the coins and told her everything about them and how they'd been collected, his comments grew further and further apart. He began to repeat himself and realized it, causing him to retreat and grow even quieter. In time, Savannah must have sensed his growing discomfort, for she gestured to the coins atop the desk. “Thank you, Mr. Tyree. I feel like I've really learned something.” My dad smiled, obviously drained, and I took it as my cue to

stand.

“Yeah, that was great. But we should probably be going,” I said. “Oh ... okay.”

“It was wonderful meeting you.”

When my dad nodded again, Savannah leaned in and gave him a hug.

“Let's do this again sometime,” she whispered, and though my

dad hugged her back, it reminded me of the lifeless hugs I'd received as a child. I wondered if she felt as awkward as he obviously

did.

In the car, Savannah seemed lost in thought. I would have asked about her impressions of my father but wasn't sure I wanted to

hear the answer. I know my dad and I didn't have the best relationship,

but she was right when she'd said he was the only family

I had and had raised me. I could complain about him, but the last thing I wanted to hear was someone else doing it, too.

Still, I didn't think she would say anything negative, simply because it wasn't in her nature, and when she turned to me, she was srruling.

“Thanks for bringing me by to meet him,” she said. “He's got such a ... warm heart.”

I'd never heard anyone describe him that way, but I liked it. “I'm glad you liked him.”

“I did,” she said, sounding sincere. “He's... gentle.” She glanced at me. “But I think I understand why you got in so much trouble when you were younger. He didn't strike me as the kind of father who would lay down the law.”

“He didn't,” I agreed.

She shot me a playful scowl. “And mean old you took advantage.”

I laughed. “Yeah, I suppose I did.”

She shook her head. “You should have known better.” “I was just a kid.”

“Ah, the old youth excuse. You know that doesn't hold water, don't you? I never took advantage of my parents.”

“Yes, the perfect child. I think you mentioned that.” “Are you making fun of me?”

“No, of course not.”

She continued to stare at me. “I think you are,” she finally decided.

“Okay, maybe a little.”

She thought about my answer. “Well, maybe I deserved that. But just so you know, I wasn't perfect.”

“No?”

“Of course not. I remember quite plainly, for instance, that in fourth grade I got a B on a test.”

I feigned shock. “No! Don't tell me that!” “It's true.”

“How did you ever recover?”

“How do you think?” She shrugged. “I told myself it would never happen again.”

1 didn't doubt it. “Are you hungry yet?” “1 thought you'd never ask.”

“What are you in the mood for?”

She drew up her hair in a sloppy ponytail, then let it go. “How about a big, juicy cheeseburger?”

As soon as she said it, I found myself wondering if Savannah was too good to be true.