34

THE EVENING CAME ON with a chill. John pulled his sweater tighter as he marched north along the beach, back toward the house. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned to observe his footprints in the sand.

He climbed to the main house and scooped Katy up in the living room. He nibbled at her ears while she laughed and kicked. He put her down, clapped his hands together, and looked around.

“Where’s your mother?” he asked.

“In her bedroom.”

“Well, get her. It’s cool enough tonight for me to make the famous Livesey cocoa.”

Katy stepped into the hallway and called her mother. “Grandpa’s making cocoa.”

John got out the milk and the chocolate.

The three sat at the kitchen table, sipping the hot drink. John blew at his and looked over the rim of his raised mug at Lisa.

“This is good, Dad,” said Lisa.

“Wait,” he said. “Marshmallows. We’re forgetting marshmallows.”

“We don’t have any,” Lisa said.

“Oh.”

Katy giggled.

“Let’s sing songs,” John said. “Let’s sit in the living room and sing.”

“Yeah!” said Katy. “Like you and Mr. and Mrs. Turner did on the beach.”

“Right.”

“Okay,” Lisa said. She studied his face anxiously.

They moved to the sofa. John started into singing “Farther Along.” Katy and Lisa didn’t know the words but caught some of the chorus and tried to sing with him.

Katy then sang one of her Brownie songs, something about being a squirrel and storing nuts. John closed his eyes and listened contentedly to her voice.

They did that—traded off singing songs, some they knew and some they made up—for some time. They finished the cocoa. Katy yawned once and was soon sound asleep.

“Too much excitement,” John said.

“I’m feeling a little sleepy myself,” Lisa said, taking a long, deep breath.

“Will you have a drink with me?”

Lisa laughed and was puzzled. “No.”

“I really think you ought to have a drink,” John said, his face blank. He seemed to shake clear of something and offered a smile. “Come on, you haven’t had a drink since I’ve been here. Don’t let me drink alone. Not tonight.”

“No,” she said. “not tonight. But just a little one.”

“Good girl.”

John went to the liquor cabinet and poured two light bourbons and water. “Here you go.”

Lisa yawned, took the glass.

“To better times,” John said.

Lisa mustered a smile. She drank, then studied her glass. “It’s been a long time. Tastes bitter.”

John nudged Katy. “Honey, wake up.” She didn’t respond. “She’s out. I’ll put her in bed” He picked up the child and carried her to her room. He held her close, smelled her hair. He undressed her and slid her between the sheets.

Back in the living room, Lisa was trying to gain her legs. She held her hand to her head and tried to take a step.

John rushed forward and caught her, let her down onto the sofa. “Okay?” he said.

“Okay.”

He switched on the overhead light in the kitchen and cleared the table.