Fish scent rolled in with the next wave and her stomach waved back with a hint of nausea.

She picked up both sides of the hat brim and pinched them together to make an impromptu bag, which she grasped with her right hand. With her left hand, she picked up the edge of her towel and shook out sand.

A group of teenage boys emerged from behind her. Bare-chested and rambunctious, they ran to the water whooping and laughing, attacking with words, pushing and shoving each other into the sand, then into the water. She stopped to watch them dive, disappear, and break the surface to splash and slander again. In spite of the name-calling, they appeared to be having fun. Bryony would never understand the kind of fun that included maligning one’s peers.

“Oh, to be young again,” she muttered to herself, folding the towel.

“Cheer up,” a gravelly voice said from nearby.

Bryony raised her head, the towel now draped evenly over her arm.

A jolly-faced bald man smiled. “Growing older allows you to deliver on dreams you only discover because you lived long enough to dream them.”

A woman, her short silver hair curled tight to her head, clutched the man’s arm. “Don’t mind him, dear,” she said. “He talks to everybody. Never met a stranger in his life.” She looked up at the man beside her and grinned.

They walked on, their slow pace indicating the kind of care demonstrated by those who know the risk of falling. Bryony watched them for a few minutes, the sweet woman hugging the friendly man’s arm.

“Realize my dreams,” she scoffed. What dreams? She turned and trudged to the hotel.

After a nap and a shower, Bryony blew her hair dry and styled it into a loose knot on top of her head. Soft curling tendrils fell over her ears and neck. Wearing nothing but a light green terrycloth robe, she sank into the hotel’s blue wingback upholstered chair to read the novel she had started on the plane.

Nathan returned from his lesson as she turned a page. He pecked her cheek, showered, dressed for the evening, and left the room for an “errand.” The door clicked shut behind him, and Bryony snuggled deeper into the chair. She looked back down at the book, a hint of a smile easing tension inside and out.

An errand, he’d said. A small gift for her, perhaps? Valentine’s Day was less than two weeks away, the day before they would fly back to Ohio. Maybe he was finally on board with the intent of the trip. Maybe he, too, would take the opportunity to infuse spice into their lives.

Reading straight through to the end of the book, she closed the back cover and stretched her arms upward, satisfied with this ritual accomplishment, the uninterrupted reading of popular fiction indicating downtime. Nathan had yet to return. Bryony wondered where he was, but noticed she was happy he had taken his time.

She should have scheduled a break months ago. She would remember when planning for next year—include vacations.

Thirty minutes before their dinner date, Bryony slid into her new dress and emerged from the hotel room to peer in both directions. The hall was empty. She stepped back into the room and closed the door. Odd for Nathan to be gone so long, but anticipatory excitement made the wait tolerable. Would he return with chocolates? Flowers? Something soft and frilly and feminine?

She smoothed silky fabric over her hips, validated herself for choosing a bold tropical print, sat on the edge of the bed, and picked up the TV remote. The evening news focused on tragedy, mayhem, and political chaos. She clicked the remote to a station that catered to romance. Why not?

An hour later, the door opened.

“Hey, Bry!” Nathan walked in, his tie loosened, his pants legs rolled up, empty-handed. “Ready to go?”

Unable to keep the irritation out of her voice, Bryony said, “You’re late.” She clicked off the television, and asked, “Where have you been?”

“Lighten up!” Nathan walked into the bathroom and turned to stand in front of the mirror.

Bryony followed, her stomach roiling. She noticed sand on his rear end and on the back of his shirt.

“I took a stroll on the beach,” he answered.

His relaxed ways used to intrigue Bryony. Now they irked her. Clearly the relationship depended on her ability to bend, but how much, and in what direction? Clueless about whether to continue communicating her upset or resort to her usual forgive-and-forget method of resolution, she stood silent, watching him comb his curls into place, until the cell phone on the nightstand buzzed.

Bryony stepped over to look at the caller ID, picked up the phone, and slid her finger across the screen, worried. “What’s up, Mitch?” she asked. Her brother had said he would only call if there was a problem.

“You’d better come home. I can’t take off work right now, and Mom’s not looking good.”

“What do you mean?” Their mother had been fine when Bryony left Fieldstone. Aides were scheduled to come in three times a day to care for any personal needs, provide balanced meals, and a bath before bed. Bryony’s father could handle the rest, which would amount to making sure his wife did not walk out the front door and become lost before she exited her own yard.

“She’s in the hospital,” Mitch said. “I don’t know, Bry. She has a high fever, and some new medication seemed to make her worse. She looks bad. The assistant principal is out with the flu, and a couple of teachers called in sick today.”

“How bad is it?” Bryony asked.

“I think they’re all doing okay, just the usual aches, pains, fever.” Mitch answered. “You know, the flu.”

“Not them. Mom,” Bryony said. Her brother could be oblivious at times. “How bad is she? What did the doctor say?”

“I don’t know,” Mitch answered, his voice rising. “I don’t do this stuff, Bry. It’s your job. Be the daughter. Come home and take care of her and Dad. I have enough on my plate.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She was already moving to the closet.

“Hurry.” Mitch ended the call.

His abrupt goodbye and the helpless tone of that one word startled her. Mitch rarely showed fear, even when he lectured about his fears.

I’m afraid you’re making a mistake there, Bryony.

I’m afraid that’s not the right choice.

I’m afraid you’re not acting in your best interest.

Always he voiced his concerns with confidence bordering on arrogance. Tonight, he sounded like a scared little boy. Anxiety took root in Bryony’s midsection.

Nathan walked out of the bathroom and propped his foot on the bed to unroll his pant leg, spilling sand on the carpet. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“We have to go. Mom’s in the hospital. Will you please call the airline and book flights out as soon as possible? I’ll pack.” Bryony pulled both suitcases out of the closet and flung them on the bed.

“Slow down.” Nathan put his hand on her arm. “Come here.” He pulled her into his arms. “Breathe. It’ll all be okay. She’s a tough bird.”

While he stroked the back of her head, Bryony rested her cheek on his chest and took a deep breath. Gentle, calm, nurturing Nathan was back. She pulled away to look up at his face. “Thank you,” she said. “Thanks for not being upset about having to leave early.”

He smiled down at her, his eyes warm and caring. Unlike her father and brother, Nathan really was kind and considerate. He pulled her in for one final caress before stepping back to grasp her shoulders and gaze into her eyes. The air between them stilled.

“You’re gonna be fine, babe,” he said. “You’re always fine. Whatever happens, you’re the one who sees all the pieces and the order in which they need to be placed. You’ll go there, and before you know it, everything will be back on track.”

Her breathing relaxed. Nathan was right. One foot in front of the other. She could do this. Having Nathan made it all so much easier. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I wanted this vacation to be special, something we would always remember. I arranged for dinner on the beach our last night here.”

Stroking her hair again, he inhaled deeply, and then exhaled saying, “Ah, Bryony. You are so competent, so capable and accomplished.” Their eyes locked for a full thirty seconds. The vacation had been worth this one sweet, loving moment she would never forget.

Suddenly, Nathan dropped his arms to his sides and stepped back, the pace of his words quickening. “You don’t need me to come with you. The package you purchased was nonrefundable after a certain point, right? And I’m sure we’re long past the expiration date. No sense in both of us missing out on the rest of the vacation. I’ll be back in Fieldstone before you know it.”

CALLUM FORSTER JR.’S V-DAY PARTY ROCKS