The art museum was a flop. "Mom, this is boring," was Zach's sentiment, expressed for the fourth time. "And we've been inside all day."
"Inside things can be fun," Kara quipped as she surveyed a series of matching sculptures of various sizes, each piece exquisitely crafted but, admittedly, not very kid-friendly.
"Riding the bus here was fun," he complained. "This isn't. Actually, that picture's pretty cool." Along the wall, he had spotted one he liked. Maybe there was hope for the child to develop some artistic taste after all. After two hours, he had finally found a painting he could appreciate.
"Don't look at me like that," Kara snapped lightly at Craig. "And don't say you told me so, either. If I like the art museum, it was worth a gamble that my son might, too."
Craig chuckled and gave her shoulders a squeeze, which irritated her all the more. With their schedule free—her mother having left for Spokane that morning—she had thought Zach might find the museum interesting, but art was obviously not his thing. His dad encouraged him a bit, though, and he endured the rest of the museum patiently so Kara could enjoy it. He even found a few more paintings and a sculpture that he liked.
Dinner at a tiny downtown restaurant they discovered was a bigger hit. "Can we get more fries, Mom?" he asked as he swallowed the last of hers, his own having already disappeared with his cheeseburger.
"No, I think you've had enough," she replied. "I've told you before, French fries are not a staple of a healthy diet."
"I like them," Craig put in.
"You're not helping, bozo," she told him with a frown. He and Zach shared a quick grin in spite of her.
The next day after church and lunch, Zach disappeared quickly out back with Paws and his soccer ball, but Kara saw it and stepped outside after him. "Zach? Back inside, kiddo. I asked you to pick up your room before you play with the dog." Two months with the boy and already they had accumulated enough toys and childhood accoutrements for his room to devolve into a mess if she left it unchecked for a few days. "And you need to weed your row in the garden, too." He hadn't weeded it since before her mother had come to visit.
"I forgot," he explained as he dribbled the soccer ball back toward her.
"I told you fifteen minutes ago. You forgot already?"
"I have a short memory."
"I see. By the way, I have some chores for you to do tomorrow."
Zach looked up at her, aghast. "But we're going to the beach—the big beach!"
"Hmm. Seems like your memory's just fine. Get in there." She gave him a little push inside, annoyed but also laughing to herself. How many times must Lia go through this routine with her four girls everyday? And here she herself was, getting irritated as she went through it for the first time. That was a strangely amusing thought.
The beach couldn't have been more perfect when they arrived the next day. This trip had been Craig's idea, and he had located one last available cabin—a rare find in mid-July—in Ocean Park, less than a four hour drive from home. They arrived precisely at check-in time that afternoon, unloaded their supplies, and launched out straight for the beach.
They hiked through tall grass bordered by a line of dunes and came to bare, flat sand that stretched eight hundred feet before them. Zach stopped dead and gaped at it in sheer wonder. Beyond it, the Pacific Ocean churned and tossed great bands of thundering waves one after another onto the shore.
Craig stared out at the sea with awe himself; he had always loved the beach. "Welcome to the ocean, Zach."
Reaching behind her with her free hand, Kara pulled her backpack from her shoulder. "Beach rules," she began. "Number one: get your scales wet. I brought towels." She patted the backpack. "Number two: take your shoes off first. Number three: try not to get your shorts and shirt too wet. Although," she added, looking up at the clear sky, "I guess it's warm enough that you'll be okay if you do. Number four: don't touch the jellyfish. Some of them sting."
"There are jellyfish out here?" Zach asked with excitement. He glanced toward the water as if to spot one there. "What do they look like?
"Like jelly," she deadpanned, winking to Craig. "They'll be washed up on the sand. Don't let Paws play with them, okay?"
"Okay. Are those all the rules?" he inquired, already pulling his shoes and socks off and handing them to Craig.
"Stay where we can see you," Craig added. "And Zach, this isn't Puget Sound. Those are big waves out there. They can pull you right out to sea if you're not careful. So don't go in deeper than your knees, just to be safe."
The boy listened with surprising solemnity and nodded. "I'll be careful, Dad. Can I go now?"
"Go!" Kara declared. "Go be a fish!" He went, running every step to the water's edge, Paws, unleashed, keeping pace beside him. He bounded straight in, and bounded out just as quickly.
"It's freezing!" they heard him yell over the pounding of the waves. But he was back in the water a moment later, chasing it as it receded, running away from it when it returned. Paws ran with him.
Kara, suddenly overcome with the moment, took her husband's hand, grinned, and gave a little jump. "This is great!" she squealed to him. He raised his eyebrows at the sudden display of girlish delight, and she kissed him. "We're at the beach with our son! Our son, Craig—our son!"
He looked at her in astonishment and laughed, then glanced back out at Zach making footprints in the wet sand. "Our son… At the beach with our son…"
She gave his hand an affectionate squeeze, and they walked a while, watching Zach play. It just seemed right whenever the two of them ambled hand-in-hand along the water's edge, as they had the day he had proposed to her on that log beside Puget Sound. The wind off the ocean was cool, but not strong, and the summer sun above them was warm. It was a perfect day, absolutely perfect. They strolled slowly, tracing the water's edge for an hour, entertained by Zach and Paws and fully appreciating the moment.
The four of them took a break for dinner in the cabin, then returned to comb the beach while the tide gradually receded. Zach and Craig left her with Paws and hunted for treasure, coming back to present her with a small collection of seashells a while later.
"Look what I found, Mom!" Zach exclaimed, opening his hand to her. He held a snail shell; it suddenly lifted itself up, little legs extending and wandering the length of his palm. "It's a hermit crab! And Dad found a jellyfish, too, stuck on the beach. And Mom—this place is so huge! The sand goes forever!"
"A lot of outside, huh?" she observed, watching him fondly, trying not to smile too broadly; her son, her son, had found a hermit crab on the beach.
With the crab walking up his arm now, he stared out across the vast, undulating sea. Craig came up alongside him and set a hand on his shoulder. Kara saw Zach flinch—she had almost expected it—but he didn't pull back from his dad. Craig pointed west toward the sunset. "Sail that way far enough and you come to Japan, China, Russia. And there's nothing but water in-between." The two boys stared together, dreaming of far-off places. Paws, more locally-oriented, dug in the sand around their feet.
"Which way is Hawaii?" Zach wondered.
"That way," Craig said, pointing southwest across the waves.
The hermit crab tumbled off Zach's arm. "Better get that guy back to the water," Kara suggested, picking the crab up and handing it to the boy.
He dashed to the water and deposited the critter gently onto the sand. When he returned, the three of them walked and talked and laughed together for perhaps a mile, turning around and meandering back to the cabin only when the sun had finally slipped below the sea.
*****
The Boy Who Appeared from the Rain Page 61