Page 33 of Unbroken
“Have a wonderful time,” Ves said, though privately he worried. How many other Endicotts secretly agreed with Ambrose?
Noct waved from the door as the rest of them set off. Ves carried the heavy hamper, Bonnie pushed Clara’s baby carriage, its parasol deployed to shield her tender skin from the sun, and Sebastian kept an eye on the rest of the children to make sure no one wandered or got left behind. They stopped by Mrs. Adams’s door, as the old woman was joining them for the day.
“I’ve brought dessert!” she said, and drew back the cloth covering a basket to display a pie.
“That’s so lovely,” Bonnie exclaimed. “You didn’t have to bring anything, though.”
Mrs. Adams waved a dismissive hand. “And you didn’t have to invite me along.”
“Your son lives in New York City, you said?” Bonnie asked as they resumed their stroll.
“Yes indeed, but he’s spending the holiday with his wife’s family in Minnesota. And my daughter moved to California, oh, thirty-five years ago now, I’d say. I have four grandchildren through her, and…”
Ves’s attention drifted from the conversation. The streets were as crowded as he’d seen them, everyone getting outside to enjoy the festivities and the fair weather, which had cooled considerably after the scorching weekend. Food carts seemed set up on every corner, selling hot dogs, lemonade, dumplings, roasted corn, root beer, and more.
More and more people joined them on the streets, and Ves’s nerves drew tight. He’d grown up amidst the peaceful countryside, and doubted he’d be fond of crowds even if he’d been entirely human with nothing to hide. As it was, he flinched every time someone bumped into him. The babble of voices, interspersed with shouts and crying babies, assaulted his ears. Widdershins looked like an ant hill, a thousand bodies all moving, changing direction, swirling together and breaking apart in an incomprehensible pattern.
He should have asked Noct if he could go to the estate, too.
Sebastian caught his elbow and grinned down. “I’m so glad the weather is cooperating!” he shouted over the din.
His pale face was flushed with happiness, his eyes bright behind silver-rimmed glasses. Sebastian was far more sociable than Ves; he belonged here amidst his fellow humans, all bumping along together in a great mass that Ves only longed to escape from.
He made himself smile back at Sebastian. “It is lovely. How much farther is our destination?”
“Not far—you’ll see!”
The sound of music reached them from blocks away, beckoning them past the last line of buildings before the beach. A massive boardwalk ran down the strand, lined with shops selling ice cream, pretzels, parasols and hats, bathing suits, post cards, and souvenirs. A photographer’s studio seemed to be doing a brisk business with families wanting to commemorate the day.
Interspersed with these were stalls offering games like ring-toss and the wheel of fortune, alongside shooting galleries where players lined up to knock over tin targets. A large pier stretched off behind the boardwalk, boasting the sort of amusements Ves had only read about: steeplechase, chutes, a Ferris wheel, and a house of mirrors. A miniature lighthouse stood in the center of the pier, people crowding the rails at the top to get a look out over the city. Everything was festooned in red-white-and-blue bunting, blowing in a breeze that smelled heavily of fish. It mingled with the scents of sweat, cooking sausages, and sauerkraut.
Over the entrance to the boardwalk hung a sign proclaiming it King Tide Park. “Is this it?” Ves asked, though it must be.
“Yes, sorry,” Sebastian said. “Locals just call it ‘the pier.’ It didn’t used to have an official name, but the original pier burned down about a decade ago. There was a carousel I loved to ride on as a child.” His face took on a wistful expression for a moment, then cleared. “At any rate, a new park was built on the site, bigger and better than before. But no one calls it King Tide Park even after all these years.”
They reached the boardwalk, following it along until they came to stairs letting them onto the beach. Someone had set up canopies here and there in the sand, and they found one to settle beneath. Bonnie handed Jossie, Helen, and Willie a few pennies and nickels.
“Be back here by one o’clock for lunch,” she warned.
They ran off, leaving Tommy wailing he wanted to go with them. “You’re too young,” Bonnie said firmly.
“Help me build a sandcastle,” Sebastian said to his nephew, and soon they were occupied digging in the sand.
Ves settled onto the blanket they’d spread, feeling out of place. Alone, or at least with fewer people, the beach would have been a beautiful place to spend some hours. But as it was, the noise of a brass band drowned out the lap of waves and cry of gulls. A steady stream of visitors paused by their blanket to chat with Bonnie, and a few joined them on the sand, until it was crowded beneath the canopy.
He should have brought a book. A newspaper. Something, anything, to occupy his attention.
“Would you help me, Mr. Rune?” Mrs. Adams asked.
Startled, he turned to find the old woman seated beside him, a skein of yarn in her hand. “I need to wind this into a ball, and I don’t have my yarn swift,” she said, holding up the yarn. “Do you know anything about knitting?”
“I’m afraid not.” He seized on the distraction. “What do you need me to do?”
“Just hold your hands out like so…”
He allowed her to position his hands, then put the skein around them, and position them again. “Thank you. So, tell me about yourself, Mr. Rune. I feel we haven’t had the chance to talk properly.”
Sweat slid down his back, whether from the growing heat or anxiety, he didn’t know. “There’s little of interest,” he demurred.
