The sand felt fine and soft. It met his body and supported him like a comfortable chair.
They looked up at the sky through a hole in the clouds where stars peeked through. Behind them, the clouds were glowing, reflecting lights. To the east, there was nothing but black ocean. It was an unknowable void and they were perched right at the lip of it.
For the longest time, neither of them said anything. Ricky didn’t feel the need to fill the night with any more questions. The sound of the waves was enough.
“I grew up farther inland,” Amber said eventually. “We didn’t have anything like this. It’s hard for me to believe that people who live out here have any real worries. When I come out here, the ocean takes them all away.”
Way up near the stars, Ricky watched the flashing lights of an airplane as it passed over.
“Do you have anything like this where you live?” she asked.
“My family doesn’t go down to the ocean much. We have lake people and ocean people up there. We’re lake people.”
“Probably the same thing,” Amber said.
The waves were quiet for a moment and then a giant wave crashed furiously. Ricky wondered how high the tide would get. He wondered if they fell asleep if they would wake to find the water tugging at them, trying to pull them into the void.
“I don’t know,” Ricky said. “Sometimes the tourists relax on their boats and it looks like they’re in another world, but I hardly ever see locals do that. It’s, like, because they’re around the beauty all the time, they can’t see it. I guess I feel that way too.”
“Serenity is only for tourists?”
“I guess,” Ricky said.
“You should try to be a tourist then,” she said.
Ricky put his hands up behind his head and thought about that. They did do some of the things that tourists would do—they went fishing sometimes and picked blueberries along the shoreline. It always seemed like their recreation had a goal though. It was never just to relax and enjoy the sun. He decided that he was going to do that. He was going to set aside time and go out on the boat with Tucker and just sit.
Ricky felt heavy footsteps through the sand.
“Hey,” he whispered. “Someone is coming. Are we trespassing?”
“Shhh!” Amber whispered back.
She stayed perfectly still so Ricky did too. He couldn’t afford to get arrested for trespassing. When he got home, he would catch hell at the sheriff’s office.
Ricky’s muscles tensed up when he saw the giant shape emerge around the side of the dune. It wasn’t a person—the thing was way too big. He was trying to formulate a plan—attack or run?—when the animal snorted.
In a low voice, Amber said, “It’s okay. It’s just us. We’re not scary.”
Another horse snorted a few paces away.
“They’re wild horses,” Amber whispered. “They roam around on these beaches.”
Leaning forward, Ricky could see the rest of the herd that Amber was talking about. The one closest was as wide as she was tall. There was a little one between her and the next. Then, tossing his head and striding with high feet, the stallion came around the herd to investigate. He squared off with Amber and Ricky, lowered his head and snorted.
“Are they dangerous?” Ricky asked.
“Only if you run out of treats,” Amber whispered.
She dug in her pocket. The horse seemed to understand the sound of crinkling plastic. His ears were high, silhouetted against the stars as he stepped forward. Amber only moved her arm as she held out her offering. The horse sniffed at it and then took it from her hand.
Ricky smelled the peppermint as the horse chewed it. His nose was immediately back to her, looking for another.
“You’ve had one,” Amber said. “Give someone else a chance.”
The horse tossed his head but seemed to understand. Amber pulled her legs in as one of the mares came forward. She gave that horse another peppermint.
“I only have one more,” she told the horses.
“Wait, you said they’re dangerous if you run out of treats,” Ricky said.
Amber laughed at him. The horses shied back at the sound.
“Come here, little guy,” she said, gesturing towards the smallest horse. He stayed near his mother. Amber ended up giving the mint to one of the other horses.
“I have more,” she said, putting a couple of wrapped candies in Ricky’s hand. “Try it.”
He did. When he finally got one of the horses close enough to sniff at a mint, he had a hard time staying still as its whiskers found his hand in the dark. The horse snatched the candy with its dexterous lips and it was off. The rest of the herd grew bored with them and were moving off. When the stallion tossed his head again, he seemed to chase them down towards the water.
“You really think it might help?” Amber asked.
“What?”
“My story. I don’t like to think about it, and I’ve never told it to anyone. I’ll tell you, but only if you think it really might help.”
“I mean, I can’t guarantee anything, but every piece of information could be important.”
Amber sighed.
Seven: Amber's Story
In the movies, there’s always a starting point. People move into an old house that nobody else wanted, or a sudden tragedy puts everyone on edge. With us, everything began so slowly that, at first, it didn’t seem like anything was happening at all. There wasn’t one event where you could put your finger on it and say, “This is where it all began.”
I
