The August sun rose red, then turned gold. It touched the flowers of the aunts' gardens, the beds of late roses and nasturtiums and asters. Geese flew in, sitting calmly on the water. A boat with two masts and a tall sail slipped by. Caleb went fishing with William and came home with two fish.
"Flounder," said William, smiling at us.
But Caleb didn't smile.
In the afternoon we walked by the water, Aunt Lou and Sarah, Caleb and I. Caleb threw sticks for Brutus, who brought them back along with big rocks and seaweed and whatever came up with the tide. We began to walk up the path again, Caleb carrying sticks, Sarah stopping to pick a handful of rose hips. A fishman pulled lobster pots in the cove. Then, suddenly, Caleb straightened and looked past me to the top of the hill. He didn't speak, but his lips moved.
"What?" I asked him, and I turned to see a figure standing there, looking out at the sea.
Caleb's mouth opened and he dropped his sticks.