The entire ride up, all he’d talked about revolved around himself and the movies. Rebecca, tired of his discourse, walked away. But he does have a nice ass. I’ll have to cut him some slack. Walking backward to view his glutes, she took a seat in the rear of the boat. The wind whipped her hair, and she pointed her face into it to avoid black locks darting into her eyes.
When the boat rounded a bend on the south end of the island, a beach came into view, where a woman, with long gray hair blowing in the breeze, walked a small dog. The lady, old, tall, and thin, wore a navy-blue sweater held at her waist by a tie.
A flush came over Rebecca, and she stood to unzip her coat. “It’s getting warm.” She didn’t know why she spoke out loud. The boat’s engine roared so much she could barely hear Jay’s camera clicking.
On the beach, the lady’s dog leapt, wagged its tail, and barked a silent yip. It looked like a beagle or a terrier or some thing—Rebecca lacked knowledge of dog pedigrees. The brown-and-white thing scurried near the water, and the lady fumbled in the sand after him, her arms held out for leverage on a sloping dune. She yelled out what Rebecca imagined to be the dog’s name.
The boat hummed and drove westward.
Playfully, the dog popped out from underneath a long set of wooden stairs that cut through a sandy embankment and led up to the ramshackle buildings.
In the boat, Jay pivoted.
Nice crotch, too, Rebecca thought, and watched him shoot Bar Harbor.
Hints of blue flecked the gray sky, decorating the scene—the aged houses on the hill, the woman strolling the beach, the clouds, the dog—like the Andrew Wyeth print that hung on Rebecca’s bedroom wall. Maybe Jay knows his stuff after all.
Running in circles, the cute dog barked. Warmth filled Rebecca, and she smiled.
On the shore, the old lady grabbed the post to the wooden steps. The railing wobbled as she climbed. A man’s silhouette stood at the top of the stairs and slowly worked his way down. He, too, held onto the rail and lifted his free hand toward the old lady below, her hair continuing to billow.
Following after her, the dog bounced onto the first step, barked, jumped down, and darted back to the shoreline. The woman turned and called to him, but he paid no attention and continued his run. She went after him.
The man descended, his feet barely touching the treads.
“They should put that rascal on a leash,” Rebecca said. The dog dove into the water, and Rebecca shook her head.
When the woman reached a point where the sand became dark and wet, she stopped and a wave pounded down on top of the dog.
A chill pulsed at Rebecca’s chest, and she stood. “Is he all right?” she asked, but the boat’s motor masked her question. No one paid attention. Northward, Jay shot more pictures. Cachesh, cachesh, cachesh.
On the horizon, the old lady continued toward the water, and the man landed on the last step.
Rebecca looked to the boat’s driver, in postal blue, but she held firm to the boat’s wheel and stood on tiptoes to see over an ocean-sprayed windshield. The smell of salt filled the cabin. Rebecca’s sneakers squeaked along the boat’s floor.
Back on the beach, the man appeared next to the woman, kneeling at the lapping shore.
She put her hands out to the dog, as it shook off water. It held a doll in its mouth.
“A doll? How did he find a doll in the—?” Coldness throbbed through Rebecca, and she jolted.
Along the shore, a large set of black wings—like that from an oversized bat or the grim reaper—snapped out from behind the man’s shoulders and cast a shadow over the old lady crouched below him. Leathery bits clung to bony structures protruding from his back, sounding like a flag flapping in the wind, yet Rebecca couldn’t hear its flutter. She could only sense it in her core. Something told her his face was angelic, yet the darkness about his form made it impossible to see well.
Shocked, Rebecca froze. Her eyes stung from not blinking. She wiped one, leaving the other locked on the scene. I must be seeing things. “This isn’t—”
The boat rocked. The eye she’d just wiped tingled from the salt on her hand.
“Sit down!” shouted Katie. “It gets a little rough as we approach the bay.”
“I’m not sure I want to go anymore,” Rebecca said, but obeyed the driver’s call and clambered to her seat. The man’s wings flapped slower.
Jay continued to shoot—cachesh…cachesh—and then traipsed to a seat close to the driver.
Next, cresting waves hid the shore.
The boat leapt, nearly out of the water, and thumped back down. It repeated a few times, and with each landing cast a spray of water into the air. Rebecca, feeling warm again, welcomed the mist to her face. Perhaps it would slap her back to reality. For she couldn’t have seen what she thought.
When the shoreline came back into view, the man didn’t appear. The lady stood from her crouched position and walked toward the stairs. She carried something in her hand, and the dog pranced, tail high, in front of her. Quickly, he darted up the stairs, and she followed.
As the boat came closer to the island, Rebecca couldn’t rid the image from her mind. Black wings fluttered repeatedly. Their thud echoed in her solar plexus.
The boat’s engine continued its buzz, and the dock came into view.
Discover what Rebecca sees…
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About the Author
Rick Bettencourt lives with his husband in Florida yet hails from Massachusetts’ North Shore, where he learned to speak without pronouncing the letter R and say things like “tonic” when he wanted a soda. He’s written several books including Summerwind Magick, Building Us, Tim on Broadway, Marketing Beef, and other novellas and short stories. Tim on Broadway was a finalist for a Royal Palm in 2016 and was nominated for a Lambda Literary Award in 2014. Bettencourt’s collection of short stories Not Sure Boys received five nominations on Goodreads including best MM Romance Book of the Year in 2013. His short story Pitch Black ranked third with Writer’s Digest in 2009. Rick likes to entertain his readers with compelling, thought-provoking stories about the LGBT, powerful women, showbiz, and the paranormal. He often sets his stories in his favorite city Salem, Massachusetts.
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