“He ain’t getting up,” Talley said.

“How do you know?”

“Because he’s dead!”

Ruth searched for signs of blood or trauma, but his body looked as it had yesterday, only it was so still. And he wasn’t breathing.

When the wave rolled out to sea, she rolled him over and looked closely at his face. His lids weren’t open or closed but hung suspended between both. There was just enough of a gap for her to see his eyes, which were cloudy and distant.

The next wave rolled in, catching her by surprise and splashing her skin and shorts with cold salt water. She stood up and stepped back quickly.

Ruth gripped Talley’s hand.

“We need to get help,” Talley said. “Your mama will know what to do.”

As they ran toward the hotel, she looked back at Carlotta’s house. She thought for an instant Carlotta stood on the screened porch, but whatever she saw was gone as quick as it came.

She remembered Henry’s story about ships and ghosts trapped on these shores. Was Mr. Manchester now among the spirits that haunted the beach? She hoped not because she had little hope death would improve his character or disposition.

Running faster, she pumped her arms harder. Breath burned in her lungs, and the morning sun, turning hotter by the moment, sent beads of sweat rolling down her back. Panic welled up in her, and all the fear and worry delayed by the shock came into focus. There was a dead man on the beach, and she had looked in his eyes.

She raced into the kitchen’s back door with such force it slammed open and hit the wall. Talley was steps behind her.

Her parents turned from the stove. Instantly her father put down his spatula, stepped away from the sizzling bacon, and went to her. He dried his hands on his apron and placed them on her shoulders.

“What is it, Ruth?” Daddy asked.

The words rattled in her head, but she couldn’t make them come out of her mouth. She was breathing hard, and her head was spinning.

“Take a deep breath,” Daddy said in a steady voice.

Mama, eyes filled with concern, walked toward her. “Tell Daddy, honey.”

“Th-there’s a man on the beach,” Ruth said.

Talley nodded, opened her mouth, but no words materialized as she looked toward Mama.

“What man?” Her father’s voice sharpened with an edge.

Ruth breathed in once and then twice. “Mr. Manchester is on the beach.”

“What’s he doing on the beach?” her father asked.

“Nothing,” Ruth said. “He’s dead.”

“She’s right, Uncle Jake,” Talley said. “He’s dead.”

The lines furrowing Daddy’s face deepened. “Stay here with Ruth. Let me go see.”

“Maybe we should call the sheriff first,” Mama said. “We don’t know what kind of trouble is out on the beach.”

“Stay here,” he said.