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latter was a source of pride mentioned to stir his interest.
    “How much?” It wasn’t the response she had hoped for.
    “Not much. But we don’t need much, do we?” BAD felt a need to squelch the doubts nibbling here and there.
    “I’ll give my folks a call when I get to the house,” he said. “I won’t tell them I have company. At least, not right away.”
    The nibbling became a gnawing deep within her gut.
    “Well, as soon as we’re settled and permanent and everything, I’m sure it’ll work itself out.” Her words were without conviction and dropped just beyond her lips into empty space. The word ‘company’ had a stinging effect.
     
    Daylight was gone when they drove past the sign: “Emerald Shores – A Peach of a Beach”. The car slowed as it edged into a driveway under a house on large wooden pillars. Steps took them up to a wraparound porch. A dozen large windows, all encrusted with a permanent film of salt, faced what BAD could only imagine was the Gulf of Mexico. Its constant roaring spoke of a dynamic force waiting somewhere beyond the small circle of light thrown from irregularly placed streetlamps. She couldn’t wait to see it. 
    He wanted to unload the car and get ready for bed.
    “Tomorrow, Bernadette. It will still be there tomorrow. Come on in and look around.”
    This wasn’t what BAD wanted to hear. Not what she wanted to feel. But, she reminded herself, she was no longer in Lone Grove.

Chapter 11
A Gulf In Between
     
    Roux-colored water rose up on ridges of ecru foam. It boiled and tumbled its way to a shell-littered shore only to be called back into unmeasured depths. At the mercy of current and tide, minute critters rode along until eased out and deposited with other unsuspecting travelers. Bernadette stood, straining her eyes toward the coffee-stained expanse.
    “Where are the blues and greens?” She had expected more. “It’s brown and muddy.”
    He rolled his eyes. Curious about the tiniest of things, it appeared she was asking too many questions. Never accused of cleverness, he seemed stressed by hers.
    “We’re running low on money, Bernadette. My folks won’t spring for more until I get a job.”
    “There’s lots of shops. I’m sure someone needs help. We both can look.”
    “Yeah, I was thinking maybe tomorrow we could try on the island.”
    He turned to start back and tugged at her arm, pulling her from where sand and waves sucked her feet into warm depressions. Bernadette struggled to stand in place. She was fascinated by the crabs scurrying everywhere—the salt she could lick from her face, the debris continually washed ashore from places unknown.
    “Did you ever think about this? A perfectly fan-shaped shell one day may be nothing more than a part of someone’s driveway?”
    “No. Never thought about it. Aren’t you ready to go back?”
    “Not really. Let’s walk some more, or we could go for a swim.”
    “That’s all we’ve been doing.”
     
    “Well, I wouldn’t say that!”
    A leer replaced a face masked with grumpiness.
    “Come on,” she urged. “Tomorrow we can be working folks. Today, let’s be tourists.” Bernadette resumed her stroll and musings, her thoughts continually rearranging themselves.
    He let go of her of arm. “Nah, go ahead. I’m going to see what’s left to eat, see if I can scrounge up a beer. Want one?”
    “No, I’m going to look for sand dollars. Who knows, they may come in handy.”
    “Yeah.” He flashed a forced smile, then headed in the opposite direction. “The island could offer up just what I need.”  
    Standing on the beach, Bernadette cupped her ear for the words flung over his shoulder, but they were blown out of earshot. She wavered about, following him until her eye caught sight of a mound of sea-riding castoffs. There was a black, pointed shark’s tooth, a bit of a crab’s claw, fish bones, an indistinguishable skeleton and a buckeye. How did they all get to this place, fractions of