Forty Steps and Other Stories

New Year’s morning dawned overcast, cold and calm. The little beach where those funny long-beaked birds once nested formed a perfect arc that stood out sharply, white/black/white. Between the snow on the ground and the whiter-than-snow sea ice just off-shore Priscilla could make out a narrow, dark strip of beach, wiped clean by high tide. As the sky brightened, the birches along the shore came alive and the evergreens further back revealed themselves little-by-little. Priscilla imagined Gretchen standing there, brush in the air, waiting for the perfect moment. She broke off her reverie and started up the hill to the Longfellow place, but Bing stayed behind. He tilted his head just like the dog on the phonograph records and, for the first time in his life, let out a ferocious bark. The sound echoed along the empty beach and lingered a moment in the trees before dying out. Beyond the sea ice the water was dark and still in the half light. Following Bing’s line of sight Priscilla glimpsed a bright patch of water, as if the surface had been broken. Seconds later the patch reappeared closer to land, and she could make out a long black object washing in with the tide. She assumed that something had fallen off a passing ship until she understood. There was a person out there! It raised its head, looked straight at her before dropping its head again, the way she and her brother would play “dead man’s float” when they were kids. She ran to the ice-rimmed shore, trying not to slip on the rocks underneath. When she reached the open water, the body was right in front of her. Digging her feet in the sand, she pulled it onto the beach. By then she was sure it was a man. He was about her height and wore a black, rubberized suit and over-sized aviator goggles. The only flesh she could make out were his lips, dusky blue in the growing daylight. Whoever he was, she needed to get him the hell off the beach and into the house.