“We can swim before lunch.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I’m so hungry. Do you think we could have lunch and then take a nap or read or something and then swim?”
“
“We shouldn’t start and drive this afternoon?”
“See how you feel, daughter.”
“Come here,” she said.
He did. She put her arms around him and he felt her standing, fresh and cool from the shower, not dried yet, and he kissed her slowly and happily feeling the happy ache come in him where she had pressed firm against him.
“How’s that?”
“That’s fine.”
“Good,” she said. “Let’s drive tomorrow.”
The beach was white sand, almost as fine as flour, and it ran for miles. They took a long walk along it in the late afternoon, swimming out, lying in the clear water, floating and playing, and then swimming in to walk further along the beach.
“It’s a lovelier beach than Bimini even,” the girl said.
“But the water’s not as fine. It doesn’t have that quality the Gulf Stream water has.”
“No I guess not. But after European beaches it’s unbelievable.”
The clean softness of the sand made walking a sensual pleasure that could be varied from the dry, soft, powdery to the just moist and yielding to the firm cool sand of the line of the receding tide.
“I wish the boys were here to point out things and show me things and tell me about things.”
“I’ll point out things.”
“You don’t have to. You just walk ahead a little way and let me look at your back and your can.”
“You walk ahead.”
“No you.”
Then she came up to him and said, “Come on. Let’s run side by side.”
They jogged easily along the pleasant firm footing above the breaking waves. She ran well, almost too well for a girl, and when Roger forced the pace just a little she kept up easily. He kept the same pace and then lengthened it a little again. She kept even with him but said, “Hi. Don’t kill me,” and he stopped and kissed her. She was hot from the running and she said, “No. Don’t.”
“It’s nice.”
“Must go in the water first,” she said. They dove into the surf that was sandy where it broke and swam out to the clean green water. She stood up with just her head and shoulders out.
“Kiss now.”
Her lips were salty and her face was wet with the seawater and as he kissed her she turned her head so that her sea wet hair swung against his shoulder.
“Awfully salty but awfully good,” she said. “Hold very hard.”
He did.
“Here comes a big one,” she said. “A really big one. Now lift high up and we’ll go over together in the wave.”
The wave rolled them over and over holding tight onto each other his legs tight around hers.
“Better than drowning,” she said. “So much better. Let’s do it once more.”
They picked a huge wave this time and when it hung and curled to break Roger threw them across the line of its breaking and when it crashed down it rolled them over and over like a piece of driftwood onto the sand.
“Let’s get clean and lie on the sand,” she said and they swam and dove in the clean water and then lay side by side on the cool, firm beach where the last inrush of the waves just touched their toes and ankles.
“Roger, do you still love me?”
“Yes, daughter. Very much.”
“I love you. You were nice to play.”
“I had fun.”
“We do have fun don’t we.”
“It’s been lovely all day.”
“We only had a half a day because I was a bad girl and slept so late.”
“That was a good sound thing to do.”
“I didn’t do it to be good and sound. I did it because I couldn’t help it.”
He lay alongside of her, his right foot touching her left, his leg touching hers and he put his hand on her head and neck.
“Old head’s awfully wet. You won’t catch a cold in the wind?”
“I don’t think so. If we lived by the ocean all the time I’d have to get my hair cut.”
“No.”
“It looks nice. You’d be surprised.”
“I love it the way it is.”
“It’s wonderful short for swimming.”
“Not for bed though.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “You’d still be able to tell I was a girl.”
“Do you think so?”
“I’m almost sure. I could always remind you.”
“Daughter?”
“What, darling?”
“Did you always like making love?”
“No.”
“Do you now?”
“What do you think?”
“I think that if I had a good look both ways down the beach and there was no one in sight we’d be all right.”
“It’s an awfully lonely beach,” she said.
They walked back along the sea and the wind was still blowing and the rollers were breaking far out on the low tide.
“It seems so awfully simple and as though there were no problems at all,” the girl said. “I found you and then all we ever had to do was eat and sleep and make love. Of course it’s not like that at all.”
“Let’s keep it like that for a while.”
“I think we have a right to for a little while. Maybe not a right to. But I think we can. But won’t you be awfully bored with me?”
“No,” he said. He was not lonely after this last time as he had nearly always been no matter with whom or where. He had not had the old death loneliness since the first time the night before. “You do something awfully good to me.”
“I’m glad if I really do. Wouldn’t it be awful if we were the kind of people who grated on each other’s nerves and had to have fights to love each other?”
“We’re not like that.”
“I’ll try not to be. But won’t you be bored just with me?”
“No.”
“But you’re thinking about something else now.”
“Yes. I was wondering if we could get a
“That’s the afternoon paper?”
“I just wanted to read about the Spanish business.”
“The military revolt?”
“Yes.”
“Will you tell me about it?”
