Page 126 of Wreckage and Rain

"I heard you get up at two. Heard you run the water. I like to think you were awake thinking about me."

"That is either the sweetest thing you have ever said or proof you need help."

"Sweet and unwell about you, the whole time. I've never been anything else."

"What do you want to do today?" he says.

What I want is to forget the rule and not wait for tonight. But the rule is mine, and it's a good one, and tonight is going to be worth every hour of holding the line.

"I want to go to the beach," I say.

"Then take me to the beach."

"Sullivan's. I want to walk on it. I want to put my feet in the water. I want to sit on a piece of driftwood and eat a sandwich."

"Okay."

"And then I want to come back here for dinner. Lorna said she would make us shrimp and grits if we asked."

"You asked."

"I asked."

"Beach. Lorna's shrimp and grits. And then."

"And then."

"Tonight."

"Yeah."

"Okay."

He doesn't come closer. He nods once. Goes to the sideboard. Pours coffee. Comes to the other wingback. Sits down across the small table from me. Eats a slice of pound cake.

We sit in the parlor of Lorna's B&B for a long while, drinking coffee, eating pound cake, not saying much. The grandfather clock ticks. Outside, Charleston wakes up. Inside me, a calm is settling that I haven't felt in longer than I can remember.

***

We go to Sullivan's Island. He drives. I have my bare feet on the dashboard. The radio is on the country station because that's where we settled it at nineteen and the precedent has been honored ever since. The beach is mostly empty in October. Two women with a Lab fifty yards down. A couple in folding chairs near the dune line. Pelicans. We walk for a long time. We don't talk for a long time. I have my shoes in my hand. He has his shoes in his hand. The sand is cool and packed and the tide is pulling out, leaving a fan of small shells we step around. He puts his hand in mine somewhere around mile one and doesn't let go.

"Tell me about the new book," he says.

"Already?"

"Already."

"Patricia thinks it's going to hit the list. The real list. She said she's been in publishing thirty-two years and she knows what a breakout feels like."

"She's right."

"You haven't read it yet."

"I don't need to read it. You wrote it in the worst year of your life and you wrote it angry and you wrote it true. The book is going to hit."

"You sound certain."

"I'm certain about exactly one thing in this world and it's you."