Petra James staggered out past the unfinished, half-paved scrap of road the developers had hopefully pushed out towards the dunes before they got tripped up by the zoning regulations. She aimed for the most unloved portion of the beach, the stretch which lay at the foot of the eroded bluff under the long tangle of pale green grass. The riptide surged too strong for swimming and the sand slanted uninvitingly into the surf without providing a comfortable toe-hold. Ticks and sand fleas clung to the grass and happily catapulted onto the arms and legs of visitors as they passed. Ordinarily, only the birders desired to wander there.
She wrapped her arms around herself and pretended it was Omar’s embrace she felt.
A voice broke the spell. “Hello? Hi?”
Petra growled and ground her teeth.
The voice continued, “Like the birds too, huh?”
She half-turned and found that a man in tie and shirtsleeves had come up beside her, his hands lodged in his pockets. Petra blinked back the salt spray that stung her eyes.
“I’ve seen you around the court,” the man said.
“I have a boyfriend. He’s over in Iraq right now. I come out here because it’s the end of the land and I feel closer to him by looking out to the sea. He’s a big guy too. Just so you know.”
“Hey, I’m married…technically. My name’s Sydney. I live in the court too.”
“Don’t you have a job, mister…?”
“Westcott. I’m an attorney. I don’t have any client meetings until one o’clock so I thought I’d come by and see my…well, she’s still my wife. What about you?”
“Head nurse at Shoal Harbor Nursing Home. I’ve got the day off.” Petra closed her eyes and shook her head. “Why’d I tell you that? I don’t even know you. Why am I talking to you right now?”
“I’m like that,” Sydney said, edging closer. “That’s my job, getting people to open up. I guess I have an inviting face or something.”
Petra studied Sydney. “Sure,” she said. “That must be it.”
“Did you know that there are forty-eight species of gulls?” Sydney commented, sweeping his hand towards a low-flying bird, as it glided out across the ocean beneath the bluff.
“Any of those go to Iraq?” Petra asked.
“Just the reservists,” Sydney told her.
