Beach Winds Read Online Free

coincidence? She smiled, wishing she could ask her uncle whether it was a joke or a confession.
    There were three bedrooms . Two had beds. Frannie pulled the coverlet back in the guest room and examined the sheets. They looked clean. The idea of sleeping here felt strange, but not as odd as sleeping in her uncle’s bed, as if he were already past tense. That felt rude.
    Frannie pulled the drapes across the sliding doors and closed the window blinds. She got her pajamas and robe from the duffel bag and told herself this was no different from a hotel room, but it was different.
    She undid the catch of the necklace and removed the earrings. The sapphires glittered on her palm. She really was foolish.
    The dresser in this small room had some of Will’s overflow clothing. She found a pair of white cotton socks and carefully dropped the earrings and necklace into one of them. She added the ring, too. She twisted the sock and folded it back over itself, then hid it between the mattress and box spring.
    She left the lights burning in the living room and the bedroom door cracked open. She huddled under the blanket and bedspread. In the silence, the house rattled and the ocean boomed. She buried her face in the pillow and tried to shut out images of blown-in windows and collapsing walls. Was there a hurricane she hadn’t heard about? This was wrong time of year for that, but not for winter storms.
    Frannie checked the doors and locks one last time, then climbed into bed. She held one pillow down over her ears and pulled the blankets up so far they came untucked, but that didn’t matter because she was curled up into as small as form as she could make herself.
    ****
    She awoke at dawn, groggy and bleary-eyed. She eased herself upright and stretched. The blankets had fallen to the floor during the night. Her pajamas were twisted and wrinkled.
    She pulled on her robe and headed toward the kitchen . She fit the tea holder into the steeper as the water heated. As she waited, she noticed the silence. The bluster and buffeting had ceased. The house no longer shook.
    She shuffled over to the front window and grabbed the drawstrings. She tugged and the blinds opened.
    Dawn. Puffs of clouds and a lighter shade of dark mixed with threads of morning color near the horizon. She went to the sliding doors and pushed the drapes aside.
    A group of large seabirds was flying by. They skimmed the water, diving for breakfast.
    She fumbled the lock open and slid the glass door wide.
    The air, fresh from the Atlantic, rushed in, cool with a promise of better to come.
    The rough wood of the handrail had been a sponge for the night and the deck boards were cold and damp. Sand peppered the rails and planks. She walked along the wooden crossover, over the dunes and wild grasses, to its end where the public beach began. A bench was built into the crossover near the stairs to the beach, but the seat would be too chilly and damp this morning. It would be better when spring arrived.
    The rough waves no longer sounded angry, but natural, as if saying Yes, we’re loud. We’re the ocean.
    F acing the east end of the strand, waiting for the full sunrise, the chill crept up through her bare feet. When the sun broke the horizon, it highlighted walkers coming her way. She pulled her robe closer about her and scurried back up the crossover and into the house.
    T he morning sun followed her inside in bright, but dusty streams that shone through the glass door and the windows. In this light, the furnishings, though old and plain, gained a little dignity, and then her cell phone rang.
    She picked it up reluctantly. “Hello?”
    “ Frannie?”
    “ Mother. Good morning.”
    “ Is it good? You didn’t really drive all the way back to the beach last night?”
    “ I’m at Uncle Will’s house. You know that.”
    “ You have a sharp way with words, Frannie. I wish you’d pause to think before you bite my head off.”
    She ‘paused to think’ but couldn’t come up