Beau laughed. “Probably Texan just like you. My father was a French Cajun from Louisiana and my mother’s parents came to America from Norway.”
“Norwegian,” Krysti said. “You are part Viking. I like that.” She took over the chore of tuning in the radio and asked, “What kind of music do you like?”
Beau shrugged his shoulders. “Almost anything except hillbilly and absolutely no rap. I prefer the sixties.”
“Do you like to dance?” she quizzed.
A slight smile creased his thin lips. “I’ll get on the floor with the best of them, but I’m not much of a dancer. I think the words foot stompin’ music is a good way to describe my style.”
Krysti laughed as Beau reached over and pushed the button to his favorite radio station, instantly singing along with the tune.
“Imagine there’s no Heaven,” he sang. “Ahhh, Imagine. Remember—?”
Krysti finished. “Yes, John Lennon. He’s one of my favorites.”
The revelation was a pleasant surprise Beau did not expect. “Mine too. Probably the best song he ever made.”
When Imagine finished, Krysti turned to Beau. “No one ever said what Ruben’s call sign is. What do you call him?”
Beau raised his eyebrows and aimed the Corvette toward the hotel where Krysti’s son Justin waited. “I thought you knew. It’s a name he got from his grandfather, Grandy. We call Ruben Moon Shadow.”
Chapter 5
MOON SHADOW
The van sped down the beach along the water’s edge. The farther Ruben and the others drove south, the fewer signs there were of people inhabiting the island. Sand dunes grew more numerous and much taller the farther they drove. Finally they reached a point along the beach that seemed completely isolated. Ruben slowed the van and came to a stop. He spied an opening in the towering dunes, bordered with two long large pieces of deformed and aged driftwood. A startled rabbit scurried for the safety of the tall sand dunes when Ruben pulled the van next to the driftwood and parallel to the water’s edge, creating a windbreak.
While Mullholland, Sullivan, Picket and Warren searched for wood to make a fire, Ruben, Natasha and Sunday unloaded the van and arranged the chips, coolers, and snacks. After settling in, Sullivan and Warren strolled bare-footed to the surf’s edge. Mullholland’s search for firewood took him deep into the dunes. Situated comfortably on one of the logs near the van, Fitz separated hangers for the marshmallows. He took a beer from the rotating top of the Igloo cooler, popped the tab, and settled back.
A sand crab ran along the beach and across Warren’s foot. “Shit,” he cursed under his breath while shaking his leg. His silhouette moving in the moonlight appeared to be following the more animate shadow cast against the beach in the brilliance of the Moon.
Quietly, Mullholland crept among the maze of dunes and came silently upon an unsuspecting coyote. The animal, sensing something, twisted its neck around for a better view, only to see the man who had managed to slink within touching distance. A startled yelp escaped the terrified dog’s throat and the hair along its spine stood on edge. At the same instant, it leapt straight into the air and was off like a rocket.
Mulholland could not restrain a laugh. He still had the old touch. He moved deeper into the dunes and heard the strange clatter of a rattlesnake. A nearby nest showed signs of life, the warm weather rousing them from their winter’s nap. He gave the nest a wide berth and returned to the beach. A breeze from the Gulf of Mexico slowly cooled the evening air.
Ruben and Henry spread heavy blankets before the fire and the small group nestled near the warmth of the leaping flames. Beau arrived as Sunday spread the last blanket. He also aligned the Corvette parallel to the beach, nose-to-nose with the van, which added to the windbreak. With a cooler and paper bag filled with chips, Beau, Krysti, and Justin plodded through the sand toward the fire.
Almost as tall as his mother, Justin was slightly over five feet and a normal twelve-year-old, full of energy and curiosity. Skinny like most active young children, he had shoulders already wide and the bones in his body were large and strong, waiting for his body to fill with muscles and coordination. With blond hair and blue eyes, he could easily have been mistaken for Beau’s son. Justin already knew the men, having met them during the Christmas holidays. He went straight for Fitz, and took a pre-formed metal hanger. Stabbing two of the soft white marshmallows, he held them into the crackling flames.
“Justin, be careful of the fire,” warned his mother.
“Okay, Mom,” he said, without even a glance back to her. He shoved the metal shaft into the fire and when the fluffy white balls burst into flames, he ran from the heat and fell to his knees in front of Beau.
“Beau, look what I’ve got for you!” Justin exclaimed, offering him the smoking mass that bobbed about on the end of the long, straight hanger.
Beau pulled the sticky black mass off the end and popped it in his mouth. “Umm, good, Justin.” The boy made another dash to the fire.
Beau turned to Krysti. “That’s what I call a crispy critter.”
Everyone chuckled and Krysti grabbed Beau’s arm, giving him a playful squeeze. She turned her head slightly, her green eyes sparkling in the firelight.
“Justin really likes you. Quite an accomplishment since he doesn’t take to very many men.”
Beau heard, but he was lost momentarily in the seductive green eyes. How attractive she was, he thought, and he found himself wondering what she thought of him. Casually he dismissed the idea when he remembered Marix’s words and his own past. He stared at the gold cross hanging from the gold chain about Krysti’s neck. A tiny diamond was embedded in each of the ornate four points on the finely detailed cross.
Pointing with his finger, curiosity prompted him to say, “That’s a pretty cross.”
“Well thank you,” Krysti said, fondling her necklace. “It was a gift from my dad when I was eighteen.” She laughed. “I don’t know how he put up with me. I know he lost most of his hair on my account.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I gave him so much grief when I was in high school. I rode dirt bikes against his wishes. Two months from graduation I had a wreck near our home in El Paso. I was sure he was gonna kill me.” She smiled affectionately at the thought of her father. “I got this from the wreck,” she said, pointing to a tiny scar just to the right of her lower lip. “I also broke my arm.
“My father’s a devout Catholic and like all Catholic fathers he doesn’t believe girls should do those things. Anyway he showed up at the hospital and never said a thing about the accident. He just gave me a hug and handed me this cross and the necklace. He said if I wouldn’t listen to him he hoped the cross might protect me.” Then she turned the pendant around and held it toward Beau. “Would you like to read it?”
He took the cross in his hand, and the flames of the fire provided enough light for him to read the inscription: “With all my love.”
“Your father must be a tolerant man.”
“He is,” she said. She released the cross and let out a sigh. “He always called me his Little Princess.”
“Did you quit riding dirt bikes?”
Krysti laughed, touched the cross, and shook her head. “No.”
Near the van, Sunday waved her hands trying to attract Krysti’s attention but it was Beau who noticed. “Krysti, I think you’re being paged.”
“What?”
“Near the van.”
Krysti spotted Sunday, lifted herself from the blanket and strolled over to her friend. When Krysti reached her, Sunday coyly asked, “Well, what do you think?”