What Happened to the Bennetts(14)

On impulse, I went that way. The sand was a coarse light brown, mounded with brackish seaweed and hollow dried reeds that snapped when I stepped on them. The path led over a small dune dotted with grass and cactus, lined with a wooden fence. I kept going to the long stretch of beach, which was completely empty.

The bay’s shoreline was an endless slow curve. The water was gray-blue, lapping against the beach, and the waves rippled in striations of dark blue and black. The breeze smelled fresh and salty, and the sun emerged from a screen of cirrus clouds, glittering briefly on the water.

The sight sent me back in time, and I found myself remembering when I had taught Allison to float on the bay side of Long Beach Island. I remembered putting my hands under her wiry little body as she lay on her back, her skinny arms out, palms up. She was only three, but fearless.

Let go, Daddy! Let me go! I can do it myself!

Keep your head back. Stay straight.

Let me go!

So I did, and Allison had floated, squeezing her eyes shut as water sluiced into her ears.

It had been so hard to let her go, then.

It was impossible now.

I heard my throat catch, emitting a sound I never had before. I couldn’t believe my daughter was gone. I was alone, on the edge between land and sea, earth and heaven, life and death.

Suddenly a magnificent blue heron flew overhead, flapping its angular wings, leading with its long neck, graceful and strong, the hue of heaven itself.

Tears came to my eyes. I took the heron as a sign. It resonated within me. It felt like Allison’s soul, beautiful, strong, and proud, set free, taking flight.

I love you, Al.

I missed her so much. I loved her even more. But I had failed her, as a father.

My daughter believed I had superpowers, but I didn’t. I’d thought I was a good dad, but I wasn’t. I hadn’t saved her life. I had let her down. It broke me in pieces, wiped me out, annihilated me. I couldn’t be the center anymore. I couldn’t hold another second.

I fell to my knees in the coarse sand.

And I cried and cried, for my beloved baby girl.





Chapter Eight



I woke up Monday morning after a restless night, and my first thought was for Allison. I closed my eyes again, hoping it wasn’t true. Hoping it hadn’t happened. I knew it had.

I lay on my back, tried to think of what we did yesterday, but it was a lost day. Lucinda and Ethan had taken to bed, alternately crying and napping, and I had showered, checked on them, and unpacked our few belongings. Somehow we had gotten through the day and the night.

I made myself open my eyes. It was the beginning of the rest of my life, like the posters used to say. They meant everything can change for the better. They never say it can change for the worse.

I missed my daughter with every cell in my body. I knew I would think of her every morning. It had been like that after my father passed. I would think, Maybe I dreamed it.

My heart actually ached, which I hadn’t known was physically possible. I had lost my mother, my father, and Caitlin, but I had never felt like this. Paralyzed, in pain, stuck between mute disbelief and abject despair. Lucinda slept next to me, her back turned. Thank God she had finally gotten some rest. She had been crying most of the night.

I looked around the bedroom for a minute, orienting myself. The walls were painted white, and the room was sunny, with a panel of windows on each side. The right side overlooked the driveway, and the left, the marsh out back.

A cool, briny breeze and the call of seagulls wafted through the screens, billowing curtains in a blue seashell pattern. Beachy watercolors hung on the walls, and we had a blue bedspread patterned with fish. Two white dressers sat opposite the bed, also white, matching the night tables. The only incongruous note was a first-rate alarm system. It worked like ours at home, but had sensors on the windows and motion detectors.

I got out of bed, slipped into a T-shirt and gym shorts, remembering to disable the alarm. I left the bedroom, and on the other side of a center hall were two more bedrooms, one large and one small. The little one was less desirable, but Ethan had taken it, perhaps by habit. If Allison had been here, she would have bounded into the bigger room and staked her claim with a huge grin.

I peeked into Ethan’s room to find him asleep in his clothes, cuddled with Moonie. He looked lost in the queen-size bed, which had a pine headboard. Otherwise the room held a pine dresser and a desk-and-chair combination. I remembered we had bought a desk for Allison, the mistake of rookie parents.

Dad, please take this stupid desk out of my room.

You’re supposed to do your homework there. Develop good study habits.

Okay, boomer.

I closed the door and padded downstairs to the living room, which was furnished with a beige couch and matching chairs around a white coffee table. Against the wall was a white entertainment center with a flat-screen TV. I tried to imagine us living here. A nice house, but not ours. A house holding its breath for a household. I didn’t know if we could make it one without Allison. I didn’t know if I wanted to try.

I crossed the room, unlocked the dead bolt on the front door, and opened it wide, breathing in the marshy air. Out front was the driveway, and trees and brush hid the house from the street. The FBI van was parked with its back to the house. It had a Delaware plate, not a government one.

I went to the kitchen in the back, which was a long rectangle edged with builders-grade appliances and oak cabinets, white Corian countertops, and a double sink. Beyond was the laundry room, powder room, and a back door, which I opened.