“Well, hell. What did you do, just stand there buck naked in the hot sun?”
“Yes, and in the water,” she whispered.
He said nothing, just gave her that you’re-out-of-your-mind kind of look.
Very softly she admitted, “I thought you’d be waiting if I came out.”
“I wasn’t there.” He gave her an odd look. “So I realized... two hours later.”
“I didn’t think of it,” he muttered, staring thoughtfully at the ground.
She hurt too much to throw something at him and didn’t feel up to sparring with him anymore. “Just go away. Please. Go and watch the children. I can’t. I just can’t.”
He watched her for a second, then turned around. He started to take a step but stopped, his back to her and his hands still in his pockets. “If you go down to the beach and go in the ocean a couple of times a day, Smitty, the saltwater will help your skin heal.”
“Right now, I just want to go to sleep,” she whispered, gently laying her burning hot cheek on one sore arm. And she closed her puffy eyes.
* * *
Hank servedthe childrenoysters on the half shell. Lydia, Theodore, and Annabelle sat in a small circle on grass mats in the center of the hut. He set one of Smitty’s pans, a big skillet, down in front of them. It was layered with fresh raw oysters.
He sat down next to them and picked up an oyster, lifted the shell to his mouth, and let it slide down his throat.
Ahhhhh. All it needed was a little Tabasco sauce. A few beers on the side... Yeah.
He ate three more before he realized the children were staring at him. He gazed back at them over the rippled, pearly edge of the oyster shell that rested on his lip. His gaze went left, then right, then back to them.
Three sets of wide and serious blue eyes watched him.
He swallowed, then waved a hand. “Go ahead. Eat.”
“I’m not hungry,” Lydia said quietly.
Theodore shook his head. “Me either!”
Hank looked at the baby. She reached out a hand and poked the oyster a couple of times, then stared at her finger and brought it slowly back to her nose. She made an awful face. “Sit!”
Hank scanned the group one more time, then crossed his arms. “Eat!”
They looked at the skillet as if it were a monster. “Just try ’em! They’re great. Go on.”
Lydia stared at one, then slowly picked it up. She brought it to her mouth, looked cross-eyed at it, and swallowed hard. She looked up at him, then back at the oyster. She dropped it like it was on fire. “I can’t. I just can’t!” She shuddered and wiped her hand on her skirt a few times.
“Hey, buddy.” Hank nodded at the kid. “You’re a man. Go ahead. Show these sissy girls how silly they are.”
The kid shook his head.
“Go on!”
Theodore picked one up, then quickly exchanged a worried look with Lydia. He brought it to his small mouth, his freckled nose wrinkled, and he paused.
Hank gave him a go-on nod.
The kid took a deep breath and gagged.
Hank shot across the mat, slammed his hand over the kid’s mouth, and ran outside with him. He left Theodore at the same oleander bush where he’d lost his guts.
He stormed through the door and stood there, scowling.
