Because she was so attuned to the girl’s body and Ryan’s body language, Rae picked up on a subtle but distinct exchange between the two of them. As the girl drew close, she straightened up as her eyes fell on Ryan with something like recognition. Ryan straightened up too. And then Rae detected the smallest cautionary shake of Ryan’s head, as in, Not now, or Not here. The girl tipped her chin up at Ryan to indicate some understanding.

When the girl had passed, Rae was left to grasp at an explanation. Did Ryan know her? Rae wondered. How could he know her? They were so far from his home in Wheeling and had been on the island for only one day and one night. And if for some reason he did know her, why hadn’t the two of them exchanged words? Rae puzzled over this for a few minutes. Failing to come up with a good working theory, and failing to summon the courage to ask Ryan directly if he knew the girl, Rae cycled toward different possibilities. She began to second-guess her perception of the interaction. Maybe she had been wrong about the recognition between them; maybe that was just how hot people regarded one another.

Beside her, Ryan knelt to pick up a small shell. He examined it and then passed it to Rae. “Pretty, huh?” he said.

The instant he spoke to Rae, everything was right again. They were together, not apart, and she could agree that the shell was pretty. She held it in her hand as they continued up the beach.

Perhaps, Rae considered, this new idea causing her to brighten and open upward, perhaps it was not caution that Ryan had conveyed to the girl with that small shake of his head, but disinterest. Perhaps the girl’s look had been suggestive, a proposition, a hail fellow hot person look, and Ryan’s had meant not interested, don’t bother, or even can’t you see I’m walking with my girlfriend?

To Rae, that last scenario seemed totally possible. It seemed like a miracle that was actually totally possible.

Back at the family beach setup, John and Alex had woken from their naps and gone into the water to join Kimmy and Ryan.

Poppy was back, freshly sunscreened, with a new magazine from the stack in the recreation room. She was on her third Bud Light since leaving Lisa in the house to intercept Scott on his return. She was guzzling beers because she was a nervous wreck. She was way too keyed-up for a nap, although she probably could have used one. Worst of all, she couldn’t unload this burden on anyone, at least not yet. Nothing agitated Poppy more than having to keep a secret, but John was a wretched liar. There was no way John’s entire demeanor wouldn’t change if she clued him in on what was going on, and how Scott had really spent those lost hours during and after yesterday’s storm.

Poppy startled when she heard someone behind her, and she looked over her shoulder to see Scott approaching in swim trunks and a white shirt, sunglasses concealing his eyes. The sun was bright white across the sand behind him, and he was like a mirage. His posture was low, sagging like wet laundry. He carried a rolled-up towel and a small cooler, as though he intended to stay. Her heart started zooming with adrenaline, and she quickly turned back toward the beach so that she wouldn’t stare.