Sins of the Fathers by James Scott Bell Read Free Book Online

mourning for Matthew that threatened never to end. Mona allowed Syl to drive her to the beach, to Zuma, just to sit together and talk and listen to the waves. In high school, they had come to this beach often, sunning themselves and studying the various lifeguards on display.
    But Zuma, with morning fog hanging over the beach like a shroud, seemed empty of all good memories. Even the sound of the water, which usually soothed, grated today. Mona kept up a good front for her friend, not wanting to disappoint. Syl, seeming to understand, kept words short.
    They loved each other enough not to worry about silences.
    Syl had one of those instant cabana things that came out of a bag, and she propped it on the sand in about a minute. Mona had beach chairs and a radio, and each had a book to read. Mona had snatched the old paperback at random from her shelf. Turned out to be one of Brad’s military thrillers. Mona didn’t care. She wouldn’t be reading today.
    “Remember that lifeguard on number seven?” Syl pointed, through the mesh of the cabana, at the wooden tower to their left.
    “There were lots of lifeguards,” Mona heard herself say, her voice sounding distant.
    “I mean the one that day who came out and posed. Remember? He had this tanning oil all over him and those muscles, and he knew we were scoping him, I know he knew, and he pointed out to the ocean like this.” Syl held her arm up in the fashion of a bodybuilder showing off his bicep, only with the hand turned outward so the index finger could point.
    “Oh,” Mona said. “Yeah.”
    “It was so funny, but he was built, wasn’t he? And we started giggling like crazy.”
    “Right.”
    “And couldn’t stop.”
    “Mm-hm.”
    Syl sighed. “I actually think he had his eye on you. He walked in front of us a couple of times.”
    “Did he?” Mona looked out at the gray veil over the ocean. A few scattered people sunbathed along the beach. It was early yet.
    “What was the name of the guy in our English class, the one who wanted to be an astronaut? You remember him?”
    “You don’t have to do this, Syl.”
    “Do what?”
    “Not talk about it. I can talk about it if you want.”
    Syl reached for Mona’s hand. “Only when you’re ready.”
    “I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.” Mona expected hot tears to burst from her eyes, but they didn’t. Not yet. She was as cold as the ocean mist.
    “I know,” Syl said. “I just wish I could do something to help.”
    “You’re doing it.”
    “I pray so hard for you.”
    Mona nodded, but the words passed right through her.
    “I just wonder sometimes”—Syl looked at the waves—“why God . . .”
    “Allowed it?”
    Syl pushed the sand with her foot. “That’s what I wonder.”
    “You’re not the only one.”
    They sat in silence as the waves beat the shore.
    Finally Mona said, “Maybe the world’s a farce.” The words sounded stark and strange, like someone else had uttered them. Some other person living in her skin.
    She felt Syl’s hand, still holding hers, tremble a little. “You don’t really believe that.”
    Mona took her hand away and in that moment felt a slipping away, a slight yet perceptible sensation of change. She was different, the world was different, and her place in it was not the same as it was even minutes ago.
    A breeze hit her then, and with it came the smell of dead kelp. The beach was covered with it. Mona put her head down and closed her eyes, and tried to keep dread from entangling her with thick, rotting strands.
    4.

    “First thing we do,” Sean said, “is open a nice bottle of wine. Does a fine Chard sound good?”
    Lindy shook her head. “No way, Clyde. I’m not going to fall for that again.”
    “What?” Sean put his arms out in a gesture of feigned virtue.
    “You know what I’m talking about. You’re not going to get me drunk.”
    “Lindy, me? I’m wounded.”
    She breezed past him, letting her briefcase scuff his leg, and went to the living