by Jim Grimsley
"That was hard. Today."
"It could have been worse. And it's over now. Like Courtenay said."
"Do you think it did any good?"
Ford never answered. The ship's horn boomed across the waves. They waited, poised in the wind, under the wheeling of stars. At this moment there seemed so little need to move, when the world remained so full of motion. From somewhere drifted a thread of music, a vestige of Christmas. Dan sang softly with the tune, almost inaudible beneath the wind; but he could feel Ford listening. To save us all from Satan's power, when we have gone astray. The song drifted away, but the wind continued. They stood there a long time, water crashing like white fire onto the sand. At last, when the cold grew too much, they headed to the beach house. The song still ran through Dan's head; he sang quietly as they found shelter. He found himself already hoping the phone would ring and a happy ending come, as Ford opened the door and they entered the quiet darkness, together.