We finally left the beach, almost in slow motion. We helped Frances unpack her car, got her settled, took showers, decided we would have dinner at The Summer House, an old Victorian mansion on the bay. We even dressed for dinner, as much as you ever dress in Destin: a sundress for Haley, skirts for Sister and me, and a split skirt for Frances. And we set out for The Summer House.

We were headed into another beautiful sunset. “Drive down to the end of Holiday Isle, Aunt Sister,” Haley said. “We can show Frances all the blue herons, and maybe we’ll see the green flash.” And Sister turned left and drove down Holiday Isle.

The road ends at a dune. We got out and clambered up so we could see the sunset. To our right, across a large inlet, was Destin Harbor, where fishing boats were being berthed for the night. To our left was the Gulf. We were standing on a small spit of beach that tends to disappear during storms and then rebuild. It’s a favorite place for seabirds, particularly the herons. The water is shallow enough there for good fishing.

We came down the dune and walked toward the water. The sun was in our eyes, but we saw several of the huge birds had waded into the water.

“This is so beautiful,” Frances said.

Mary Alice reached down and picked up a beer can. “Drives me crazy when people dump trash off the boats.”

“There’s a whole garbage sack,” Haley said.

And that’s exactly what it looked like, a white plastic sack filled with garbage at the edge of the water. And that’s what we thought it was until we were right on it. Sister was slightly ahead, so she was the first one to see what was really lying on the beach, close enough to the water to be lapped by small waves. “My God!” she exclaimed, stepping back, holding out her arms to stop us. “It’s a person!”

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

For a moment, there was utter confusion. I think Frances screamed. I know she stepped back into me, knocking me flat on my behind on the hard sand. I remember her arms whirling like windmills as she tripped over me and tried unsuccessfully to keep her balance.

“Is he dead?” Haley asked, looking around Mary Alice at what we had thought was garbage.

“Definitely.” Mary Alice took a step closer.

“Dear God,” Frances moaned into the sand.

“Are you hurt?” I whispered. I don’t know why I was whispering. It just seemed the thing to do.

“Dear God,” Frances moaned again. “A dead body.”

Mary Alice and Haley were creeping toward the form at the edge of the water as if it might do something unexpected, like sit up and say, “Trick or treat.” I sat up and a pain shot through my tailbone. “Shit!” I muttered.