It was one of those rare days that happen sometimes on the north coast in winter, a cloudless blue sky, bright sun, brisk wind. In the morning, Mark called.
“School’s closed, county teachers’ meeting. I’m playing hooky from the paper and taking Ginny to the beach. Want to come along?”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Coryn said, “Yes.”
“Good. How soon can you be ready?”
“Half an hour?”
“Great. We’ll pick you up then.” He rang off.
Coryn put down the phone, scrambled to change into a warm sweater, flannel-lined jeans. Even on a sunny day, north-coast beaches could be cold. When she came downstairs, she glanced out to look for Mark’s station wagon then went into the kitchen to tell her mother where she was going.
“With Mark and Ginny? That will be fun. What a nice man and what a precious child. Would you like to take along something to drink, some snacks?”
“Good idea.” Coryn kissed her mother’s cheek. Coryn felt happy, Clare seemed so well, her old self, it was a glorious day and she was looking forward to spending it with Mark and Ginny. She helped pack a bag with snacks and small cans of juice.
“You and Mark will want coffee,” her mother said, pouring steaming coffee into a thermos jug. Mark and Ginny arrived a few minutes later.
With an eye patch, and wearing a red knit cap with its dangling yarn pompom, Ginny looked like a rakish little elf.
They parked the station wagon on the bluff overlooking the beach and walked down the dunes to the beach. The salt-tinged wind was sharp. The sun and fine weather had brought others out, as well. One couple had two frisky little dogs who were yipping and running into the surf. As Ginny stood watching them, the woman handed her a small stick and told her to throw it to see if one of the dogs would fetch it. Ginny was into the game in a flash. The little dogs loved it, and they continued as long as Ginny would toss it.
Coryn and Mark followed, laughing and cheering Ginny on as the two small dogs played tirelessly. Coryn vividly remembered bringing Ranger out here. He would race, wheel, leap barking into the waves, chase the seagulls then come back. She’d toss a stick over and over. He’d run down the beach after it, head held high, come prancing back triumphantly to drop it at her feet.
“This is so fun!” exclaimed Ginny, running back to them, catching both their hands and swinging them. “Isn’t it, Daddy?”
“You bet. Great fun.”
Mark’s laughing eyes met Coryn’s over Ginny’s head. Coryn felt a surge of happiness. The sense of freedom to be happy that she had somehow lost.
One of the little dogs came scampering up to Ginny with the stick in his mouth, circling and crouching, as if saying, “Come play some more!” Ginny dropped both their hands and was off again in another round of tossing and fetching.
As Ginny ran in front of them down the beach, Mark caught Coryn’s hand in his. Her heart gave a small flip as his fingers closed around her hand, their palms touching. She glanced at him. He was looking at her. Her breath became shallow.
He stopped, turned her into his arms in a hug, then kissed her.
When the kiss ended, Coryn stepped back and they smiled at each other. Her arms slowly slid from his shoulders and moved down to clasp his, still holding her around the waist. For a few seconds they looked into each other’s eyes. Then they started walking down the beach again together.
The morning sped by. Ginny made friends with two little girls, sisters, whose parents had brought them. She shared the graham crackers from the bag Coryn’s mother had fixed, and the three of them had a great time building a sand fort. Mark and Coryn sat nearby on a weathered log watching them and talking. They seemed to have lots to say to each other, never running out of topics.
The sun moved high in the sky. Their watches told them it was past noon. They called to Ginny and climbed back up the dunes, clambered up on the stone jetty. The wind at their backs, they walked toward the Seascape, an old lighthouse converted into a restaurant.
The place was warm and crowded, filled with the sound of voices and laughter, the clatter of dishes. Fishermen sat up along the counter, swapping stories of weather and tall tales about the size and quantity of their day’s catch. Savory smells emanated from the kitchen area, the swinging door constantly opening and closing. Waitresses brought out loaded trays, busily serving orders while flirting with and making snappy replies to the teasing patrons, most of whom seemed to be as comfortable here as in their own homes.
Mark and Coryn found a table with an ocean view. The surf was rough and high, dashing against the rocks.
A waitress with flaming henna hair and dangling earrings made of shells brought them each a glass of water, then poured two mugs of fresh coffee and placed them before Mark and Coryn, asking cheerfully, “What’ll it be, folks?”
Coryn and Mark ordered chowder, a famous specialty of Seascape. Ginny chose fish and chips.
“Today was fun, wasn’t it?” Ginny asked, lifting her glass of water carefully and taking a sip.
“It sure was,” Coryn agreed.
“The dogs were really fun,” Ginny said. “I liked throwing the sticks for them and saying fetch like their owner told me to.”
She put down her glass and looked directly at Coryn. “Did you have a pet when you were a little girl, Coryn?”
“Uh-oh, here we go,” Mark said in a resigned voice.
“Did you?” Ginny persisted.
“Yes, a dog, Ranger. I still have him. He’s getting pretty old now. He has arthritis.”
“How old?”
“For a dog, very old.”
“Did you take care of him yourself?”
“Well, sometimes I forgot, then…” Coryn started to say my mother did it for me. She darted a quick look at Mark but he was buttering his French bread and didn’t meet her gaze. He was leaving her this round.
“I wouldn’t forget,” Ginny said. “Not if I had a little kitten.”
The waitress returned with bowls of creamy clam chowder. As she set down Ginny’s platter of fish sticks and French fries, she asked playfully, “Think you can manage all that, young lady?”
“Yes, thank you,” Ginny said politely.
What a really lovely child she was, Coryn thought with a rush of tenderness as she watched her eat. Ginny’s fingers, the little one curved daintily, dipped each of the fries into the small cup of catsup at the edge of her plate, taking small bites, then wiping her mouth with her napkin. Someone had taught her manners, all right. It amused Coryn that once they had been served, Ginny picked up the subject of pets again as if there had been no interruption.
“A kitty wouldn’t be all that much trouble, would it, Coryn?” She glanced at Mark. “I promise, Daddy, I’d do everything myself. You wouldn’t have to remind me.”
“Even the litter box?” Mark asked.
Ginny had just taken a bite of French fry so only nodded. When she finished chewing, she said to Coryn, “I already have a name for one. Sunny. Isn’t that a nice name for an orange kitty?”
Mark moaned. “I give up! Subtlety, thy name is not woman!” He laughed.
“Ready for dessert, folks?” Their waitress was back. “Homemade apple pie with cinnamon sauce or á la mode?” she asked, giving her pencil a little twirl.
Coryn looked doubtful. “I’m pretty full but…maybe, could we share one, Ginny?”
The little girl grinned. “Yes, please.”
“Ice cream or sauce?”
“What shall it be, Ginny?” asked Coryn.
“You choose.”
“Ice cream.”
“I would have choosed that, too.” Ginny grinned happily.
They drove home singing several rollicking renditions of the sea chanty “Blow the Man Down.” They sung it over and over until Mark pleaded a change of tune. With lots of laughter and a couple of false starts, Ginny and Coryn sang some songs Ginny had learned at Brownies that Coryn remembered from her own Girl Scout days. Coryn felt a warm happiness spread all through her. It seemed as if the three of them had always been together. As though they were meant to be.
As they passed the Rockport city-limit sign, Mark asked, “Mind if I make a quick stop at the grocery store. It’s Mrs. Aguilar’s day off. My night to be chef.”
Coryn pretended disbelief. She looked at Mark with mock astonishment. “Is cooking one of your hidden talents?”
“Daddy’s a good cook,” piped up Ginny. “Yummy hamburgers and French fries…mmm.” She rolled her one visible eye.
“Obviously you have a fan,” Coryn said to Mark.
“My cheering section. I think she likes the dessert on these nights best. Sara Lee to the rescue.” He grinned.
“’Scuse me, Coryn,” Ginny said, leaning over the back seat. “I have to ask Daddy something and I need to whisper.”
“Is that really necessary, honey? Whispering is rude, remember?”
“I know but…”
“It’s okay with me, Ginny. I won’t listen,” Coryn said.
In a stage whisper that was hard not to overhear, Ginny asked Mark, “Can Coryn have supper with us?”
“I don’t know whether she’d like to…but sure, of course,” Mark told Ginny. To Coryn, he said, “Would you? Willing to take a chance?” He looked at her questioningly.
“Please, Coryn.” Ginny tilted her head to one side. “We don’t get to have company very often.”
“Well, then, I’ll be your company. Thank you very much.”
“Goody!” Ginny clapped her hands.
“Drop me off at my house first. I’ll get rid of some of the sand and stuff. I’ll drive over later. What time?”
“About six. If that’s not too early. Ginny has school tomorrow and I have to be at the paper at seven-thirty, so we have early evenings.”
“That’s fine. I’ll be there.”
As Coryn got out of the car, Ginny giggled and called after her the old joke Mark had taught her on the way home. “See you later, alligator!”
“In a while, crocodile!” Coryn called back, laughing.