“Yes,” Margaret said more sharply than she should have.
“But the shark is dead. You shot it. Why can’t I go? Why?”
Hank placed his hand on Theodore’s shoulder. “You wanna know why, kid?”
“Yeah.”
“Because you have red hair.”
Theodore blinked up at him, frowned thoughtfully, then pulled a shank of his red-orange hair into his eyes so he could see it.
Hank gave him a perfectly serious look. “What color is it, kid?”
“Red.”
“That’s right.”
“And you can’t swim out to the sandbar if you have red hair?”
Hank shook his head.
Theodore stared at the sea, then looked up at his hair, his brow furrowing while he was thinking so intently. After a minute, he sighed, then said, “Okay.”
He scuffed his feet through the sand for a foot or two and then he ran back into the shallow tides.
Margaret couldn’t believe it. She leaned over and quietly said, “But that doesn’t make sense.”
“Hell, if there’s one thing I’ve learned about kids, Smitty, it’s that they have their own way of thinking. It doesn’t have to make sense to us. Just to them.”
Lydia came up to them. She and Margaret took Annabelle to the water and played with her for a few minutes. Hank stood at the edge of the beach, just staring into the distance.
After a short while, Margaret turned and gave the baby to Lydia so they could play in the sand. Hank was still standing in the same spot, his back stiff and his gaze lost in the past.
She needed to do something to bring him back here. To the present.
She started to trot toward him, then she ran faster and right at him.
“Hey, Hank!”
He turned.
“Any last words?” And she shoved him right into the next wave.
She laughed, and the kids laughed at seeing him sprawled on his backside in the water, the waves foaming over him.
But she stopped laughing when his eyes got the same look as the goat. Margaret took off running.
He shot up and ran after her, chasing her down the beach, laughing as she was. She kicked up sand behind her and shrieked when he made a dive for her feet. And missed.
She turned around and slowed down, running backward as she laughed at him.
He lay there, not moving.
“Hank?”
Nothing.
“Hank? Are you okay?”
