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When we arrived at Compo Beach, I let the children pick out where to set up our little camp. They chose a spot right by the shimmering water, where we laid down the towels and pulled out the toys, and I sat on the sand with them as we built our sandcastle. After about twenty minutes, Stelli looked up. “I want ice cream.”
“How about lunch first?”
He shook his head. “Later. You promised us ice cream, remember?”
“Okay, let’s walk over to Joey’s.”
“Can’t you go? Let Evie and me finish our sandcastle.”
I looked behind me to Joey’s, a hundred feet or so away. “I don’t know, honey.”
“Please! Someone might wreck it if we leave,” he pleaded.
I stood. “You have to promise not to go in the water.” I looked at Evie. “Promise you won’t let him out of your sight?”
She nodded.
Grabbing my purse from the beach chair, I hurried inside and ordered them each a cone. Vanilla for Evie, chocolate for Stelli. I turned around every few seconds, craning my neck to see out the door and check on them. They were fine. As the boy behind the counter handed the cones to me, one of them fell. He turned back around to make another. When I looked again, I saw only Evie sitting on the sand. My heart jumped into my throat. Where was Stelli? Frantic, I stood on tiptoes, looking all around her, but still there was no sight of him.
I ran from the stand back to the beach.
“Where’s Stelli?”
Evie was deep in concentration rounding out the edge of the castle and looked up, distracted. “What?”
“Stelli? He’s not here!”
I ran up to the lifeguard stand in a panic. “Have you seen my little boy? Around this high?” I held my hand up. “He was right here, but now I can’t find him.”
He put his binoculars up to his eyes and scanned the water.
It must have been less than a minute, but it felt like hours before I saw Stelli playing with another little boy farther down the beach.
I ran to him. “Stelli, you scared me! I thought you were lost.”
He looked up. “I just wanted to play with the dump truck.”
I took his hand. “Come on, let’s go back to your sister.”
The three of us went to Joey’s together for new ice cream, and then an hour later, we had lunch and spent a little time at the playground. The rest of the day passed in a pleasant blur. By a quarter to two, I decided I should probably get them back. We gathered up our things, my arms full with towels and beach toys, and I couldn’t hold Stelli’s hand.
“Stay right next to me, sweetie. It’s a busy parking lot.”
Before I could step down from the curb, Stelli ran into the road ahead of me. “Look, a dollar!”
“Stelli, no,” I screamed, watching as if in slow motion when a pickup truck slammed on its brakes, narrowly missing him.
In a panic, I dropped everything and ran, helping him up. I reached out and swatted him on the behind. “Stelli. You have to listen!”
He started crying, and I picked him up and took him back to the curb, where Evie was waiting, her face white.
“You hit me!” he wailed, his voice loud.
“I’m sorry, honey. You just scared me.”
A woman about my age in a black bikini stomped over to us, a look of outrage on her face. “I saw you hit your little boy. What’s the matter with you?”
Before I could answer, she called to a police officer standing a few feet away. “Sir, sir—this woman justhither child.”