For the Girls' Sake - By Janice Kay Johnson Page 0,22
a sweatshirt. Rose had better get hers from the car."
"I have buckets, too," Rose confided. "An’ shovels, an’ everything."
"Wow." Lynn’s smile was wide and unaffected for the girls, tentative for him. "Then how about we go make some sand castles? Or chase crabs, or hunt for shells and agates?"
She and Shelly had both tied sweatshirts around their waists. He grabbed sweaters from the car for Rose and himself, as well as the beach paraphernalia.
Rose took his hand and they walked behind Lynn and Shelly the two blocks to the public pass-through to the beach. Rose stared at the tourists and shop windows. A toy store brought her up on tiptoes as they passed. Adam watched the pair ahead, the woman’s springy auburn ponytail, the child’s sleek brown one just as familiar to him. The way Shelly danced instead of trudging obediently along as Rose did. He loved every placid, thoughtful bone in Rosebud’s body, but something in him ached at the sight of Jennifer reincarnated, a sprite in constant movement.
All that distracted him from this child was the sway of Lynn Chanak’s hips, her faded jeans snug, and the sight of her pale, slender nape when she bent her head to listen to the little girl.
Dressed like this, she seemed not so much young as vulnerable, Adam decided. Here was who she was, how she lived. In letting him come to her home, she had bared herself for him, in a way. Their meeting at the hospital had had an anonymity, a sense of the impersonal, that was lost now.
At the ocean, broad concrete steps led from a paved boardwalk down to the pebbly beach. Once at the bottom, Shelly let go of her mom’s hand and spun eagerly.
"Come on! I’ll show you the best places."
Rose’s grip tightened on her dad’s hand. "The birds won’t hurt me, will they?" she asked uncertainly.
Seagulls gathered only feet away, their beady eyes searching for handouts.
"Nah." He waved his arm, and the nearest hopped backward. "See? They’re not interested in you. They want a peanut butter sandwich."
She giggled a little weakly. Instead of prying her fingers loose, he walked with her and Shelly, Lynn trailing. The gulls stayed behind, hoping for bread thrown from the diners eating outside just above.
At a safe distance from the scary birds, Rose proved willing to let go and join Shelly. The adults strolled behind as the girls ran ahead, scrambling up a favorite driftwood log and jumping over and over again to the forgiving pebbles. Finally Shelly took Rose’s hand and led her onto slick rocks where they crouched to stare into a tide pool.
As Adam looked over their shoulders, Shelly was saying earnestly, "We can’t take anything out. Sometimes I touch. See?" She dipped her hand into the cold water and let a swaying anemone brush her fingers. Her face scrunched up. "But if you take them home, they get icky. They stink and stuff. So we leave ’em."
Rose nodded, not wanting to admit she didn’t have a clue what her new friend was talking about. Not two minutes later, she slipped over to her father.
"Why do things get icky if we take ’em home, Daddy?" she asked, not bothering to hush her piercing voice.
Death and decomposition was not what he wanted to talk about.
"Because those are sea creatures. They can’t live out of the sea. Just like we need air, they need water."
"But they could take a bath with me." Her mouth was pursed with perplexity.
Lynn stepped forward. "They need this special kind of water. See? Put a drop on your tongue?"
Rose stuck her tongue out, then made a horrible face at the taste. When she could speak, she exclaimed, "They want that kinda water?"
"Just that kind." Lynn smiled at her. "And no matter how hard we try, we can’t make the bathwater right for them."
"Oh." Rose thought it over. After a moment, her forehead smoothed. She nodded and went back to her friend, squatting beside her to stare down into the tidepool.
Adam stayed near Rose as Shelly led the way next across mussel-and barnacle-encrusted rocks to a blowhole. Each incoming wave rushed beneath the rock in a froth of white, sending a thin jet shooting upward through the hole like a geyser. Here the roar of the surf surrounded them and spray hung in the air, dampening their hair and filling their nostrils and lungs with salty wet air.
"Ooh," breathed Rose, clutching Adam’s hand and watching with wondering eyes.