Cold water brushed her toes, sending a shiver as she moved closer to Peter. He tried to stand, but he lost his balance again and tumbled face forward into the sand. He coughed and sputtered.

“Peter.” She wanted him to hear her voice, see her face.

He craned his neck, looked at her with narrowing bloodshot eyes. “Edna.”

“Is there a problem?”

“Other than my fucking wife is a whore, and you’re raising her bastard.”

Rage churned through Edna, and for a moment she couldn’t speak. It had been foolish to write Ann each year, but she’d wanted her girl to know Ruth was doing well.

Edna stared at Peter, watching him fight to stand.

“That’s why you hit Beth Ann?”

“Who?”

“Beth Ann, my girl.”

“Your girl? What are you talking about?”

She’d buried the truth so deep, and she wasn’t sure she could speak it out loud. But when she did find her voice, the words tumbled out, and the pressure fisting in her chest eased. “Ann is my child.”

He laughed. “You? That’s ridiculous.”

“She’s my flesh and blood.”

He pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. “Why am I surprised she also lied about her past. That’s all she’s done, is deceive.” He sneered. “You must be proud of yourself. Your bastard had a bastard.”

Edna took a step back, watched as another, larger wave rolled up the shore and struck him hard. He fell forward, his face again hitting the sand.

“Help me stand!” His words slurred, and she wondered how much he was processing.

“Of course, Peter.” Another surge of water struck, splashing his face and her skirt.

She approached as he lumbered up onto an elbow. More water hurled in from the ocean, forcing her to stagger her stance to maintain balance. Cold water sizzled on her hot skin as Peter spit out a mouthful of water.

She raised her hands and, instead of grabbing his arm, cupped the back of his head and pushed. He resisted, tried to twist free, but she leaned into him, pressing his face into the sand. More water struck them, but she didn’t notice now as tension rippled through her muscles. Peter tried to raise his head, but she gripped his hair and kept pushing. As the seconds ticked, his strength waned.

Edna didn’t know how long she kept his mouth and nose against the sand. When she looked up and saw Talley staring at her with wide eyes, she released his head, feeling his muscles still. His body lay motionless now, and his chest did not rise and fall.

Edna took a step back and faced Talley. What could she say to the girl? How would she explain this?

Talley held her ground. “I won’t say a word.”

“Talley . . .”

“He’s a bad man, Aunt Edna. I won’t ever say a word. Family sticks together.”