Elaine plunged her hands into her hair. The mug in her right hand tilted. Coffee dribbled down her tracksuit. “Not a scratch. The boys didn’t capsize near the rocks or run into a buoy or another boat. It doesn’t make any sense. Their parents—God—their parents must be in hell.”
She dropped the mug in the sink and sobbed into her hands.
Una guided Elaine to the sofa and urged her to sit down.
“I’ll make you some tea,” she said, hurrying back into the kitchen before Elaine could see how her hands trembled.
She put the kettle in the sink and tugged off the lid. As she started to fill it, she saw her face reflected in the water.
Then she saw her sister’s face, just below the surface of that dark sea. She saw the black oval of her mouth and the white marbles of her eyes. She saw her hands, two pale starfish, reaching for the surface.
Save me, Svana’s hands had screamed.
That was the last thing Una remembered from that day.She’d woken, many hours later, to find Amma sitting on the edge of her bed, singing to her. A candle burned in the corner of the room, its weak light throwing shadows on the walls.
The shadows looked like tentacles.
“Sleep,” Amma had whispered when the song was done. The word was an incantation. It pulled Una into its embrace, and she’d slept for two more days.
Rest would do Charles only so much good. He needed to tell someone what he’d seen. Otherwise, the memory would haunt his dreams for the rest of his days.
Una put a steaming mug of tea on the side table next to Elaine. “Could I check on Charles?”
Thrown off-balance by the question, Elaine fidgeted with the tea bag, slowly raising it in and out of the scalding water like an inquisitor seeking a confession.
“That’s sweet of you to offer, but our rabbi’s coming over after lunch. I’m sure he’ll know what to do.” Elaine glanced down at her coffee-stained tracksuit. “I think I’ll take a bath. If Charles comes out or asks for anything, please knock on my door.”
“I will.”
It took Una an hour to package the breakfast items in baggies and Tupperware, throw out the spoiled food, scrub the frying pan, and clean the rest of the kitchen from top to bottom.
She turned to the laundry room next, where she found a small heap of clothes on the floor. The striped T-shirt, socks, and shorts were damp and had a tangy, briny scent. They smelled of the ocean. And fear.
Two boys. Gone.
Una pictured a small boat flung onto its side, its young sailors ejected into the water. Had the boys cried out? Hadthey struggled and splashed? Or had they been struck so hard by a swinging boom that they’d slid into the water with the slippery silence of a seal?
What did Charles see?
Una pushed the clothes into the washing machine and wiped the salt grit on her apron. She passed her hands over her apron again and again, her gaze locked on the orange-and-yellow Tide box.
You are here to clean. That is all.
She needed to focus on detergent and bleach, lemon-scented sprays, and abrasive powders. Fine rags and feathery dusters. She had to block all thoughts of Svana and try not to think about the missing boys.
She poured the Tide into the machine and started it, comforted by the thought of the blue-white granules obliterating the salt spray and sweat from Charles’s clothes. Then she put his boat shoes on the rack in the garage and mopped the floor with hot water and vinegar.
She was dusting the living room when the doorbell rang.
The sound boomed through the quiet house but didn’t rouse Elaine. Una quickly opened the door to stop the visitor from ringing the bell again.
Natalie stood on the stoop, looking tired and rumpled.
“I came to see how Charles was doing,” she said.
“I haven’t seen him. He’s resting in his room.”
“And Elaine?”
