Dark Beach Read online

  Dark Beach

  A Novel

  by Lauren Ash

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events in this book are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2012 Lauren Ash

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form without written permission.

  Published in the United States of America.

  Cover by Daren Challman

  Edited by Karin Cox

  I would like to dedicate this book to my husband.

  There once was a beach and it was dark, very dark. . .

  ONE

  “No bedbugs. Check.” Ron flopped the mattress back down.

  It was a necessary habit, although he still itched in the night whenever he traveled. A previous run-in with the critters had left him covered in red, scabby welts and had resulted in a midnight check-out, with nothing but a “sorry, we didn’t know” sad response.

  He pulled open the squeaky drawer of the nightstand and removed a pair of neatly folded jeans and a blue T-shirt, also folded precisely, from his suitcase. They smell like Jenny, he thought—that fabric softener scent he always associated with her before she began to smell faintly of antiseptic and disease, of death even. I shouldn’t have left her, he thought. Shaking his head, he remembered the cold sea air on the coast. She’ll be fine, he told himself, not really believing it.

  * * *

  One other woman sat across from Jenny in the small waiting room. Try as she might not to watch her, Jenny couldn’t help it. The magazines in front of her were all out of date, and boring, so she stared.

  Crap! Jenny thought, getting caught and then looking away as quickly as possible. Surreptitiously, Jenny looked back. The woman gave a half-smile; Jenny forced one back at her.

  Now that the woman knew, she couldn’t watch, but Jenny still peeked at her, in between staring at the permanent scratch on her red shoe, or at the clock. They shouldn’t put clocks in waiting rooms, she decided. It makes every minute that much longer.

  A petite brunette woman in navy scrubs interrupted her misery. “Jenny?”

  She stood. Only ten minutes late this time, she thought.

  “My name is Sarah. I’m your nurse today. This way, please. Let me get your blood pressure and your weight.”

  Jenny obliged.

  “You’ve only gained a pound?”

  Jenny placed a protective hand on her belly. “Well, I’ve had quite a bit of morning sickness.”

  “Saltines might help.”

  “I’ve tried them, and everything else. I’m just getting on with it. Fruit smoothies are all I can keep down.”

  Sarah asked her the routine pregnancy questions and Jenny answered robotically.

  “Dr. Smith will be in soon,” Sarah said, and left the room.

  Jenny nodded, not particularly believing that statement. The room’s silence was broken only by the ticking of yet another clock, and then by a knock.

  “Jenny, good afternoon. I’m Dr. Smith. I’ll be taking care of you during your pregnancy.” He shook her hand. “How are you feeling? I hear you’re having morning sickness?”

  “Yes, but I don’t think I’ll need anything.”

  “Right. If you do, I can get you something. Your chart says you went off your medication?”

  “Yes.”

  The doctor hesitated. “And you’re feeling okay with that?”

  “Yes, perfect. No symptoms.”

  “Good. That’s what I like to hear. Lie down, please. I’m going to check you.”

  Jenny climbed on the table, adjusted her blonde hair behind and lifted her white tunic.

  “We should be able to see a heartbeat on the ultrasound. No bleeding or anything?”

  “No.”

  He squeezed warm gel on her belly, and Jenny tensed.

  “Relax,” the doctor said, moving the ultrasound probe around to find the heartbeat. It pulsed away loudly and flashed on the screen above the foot of the bed. Jenny watched, smiling.

  “Looks normal,” Dr. Smith said.

  “That’s a relief. Just seeing it makes me feel better.”

  “I know. You’re still in the first trimester, but you can tell your husband the good news.”

  Jenny’s smile faded.

  “Something wrong?”

  Jenny glanced up at Dr. Smith. “He doesn’t know.” She redirected her gaze to her belly. “My husband’s been gone the last few weeks, traveling for work.”

  “In your own time then. It’s good to get as much support as you can. He’ll be back soon?” He wiped the gel off her belly and pulled her shirt down.

  “He’s home now. We’re leaving on a trip tomorrow.”

  “Well, that sounds like a good time. Everything looks and sounds healthy.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Smith.”

  * * *

  Chaos—that was how these trips always started.

  “Honeeeeey, where’s my blue shirt? Have you seen it? I thought I left it on the bed, and where are my sunglasses?”

  Jenny listened, but did not respond. She leaned in close to the mirror, noticing her first fine line: right there, under her left eye. It had appeared overnight, as if she had gone to bed and woken up with it. How did that happen?

  “And the sunscreen? Did you pack it, or are we out?”

  In her peripheral vision, Jenny noticed Ron’s head pop into the bathroom. She stayed focused on the wrinkle.

  “Have you heard anything I said?” Ron asked, coming up behind her and squinting at his own reflection.

  Jenny’s dark eyes moved over her husband’s face, examining his clean-cut blond hair, perfect chiseled features, and gleaming brown eyes. He was younger than she, and slightly taller—and, she noticed, he had a distinct lack of wrinkles. She frowned at her reflection again. “Huh? Oh, blue shirt in the dryer, sunglasses on the dresser, and I have the sunscreen,” she finally answered.

  “What’s wrong?” he rubbed his hands up and down her pale arms.

  “Nothing. Just getting ready.”

  “Don’t forget your pills,” he said, as he wandered away.

  Razor-sharp teeth flashed again in her mind, an image that had been plaguing her for months now. She stood still a minute, struggling to forget. Three bottles of pills sat on the counter. She shoved them into her black toiletry bag.

  “Charlie’s escaped again,” Ron shouted.

  “Maaaaaa. Ma.”

  Jenny felt a tug on the hem of her short white nightgown. “Yes, my lovely.”

  “Charlie’s outside.”

  “Again? Oh!” On autopilot, she dropped her concealer, pushed past her daughter and her husband in the bedroom, and crashed down the wooden steps and out the front door.

  “Charlie? Chaaaaaarlieeeeee!” she called.

  “Honey, the neighbors will see you.” Ron stood on the front steps.

  Jenny ignored him.

  “Ouch! These rocks are sharp.” She looked down at her bleeding big toe. “My toe. Ron, I need an … ah!”

  “Mommy has an owie?”

  There was no sign of the little black dachshund.

  “Here.” Ron handed her a bandage. “Come in. He’ll turn up.”

  “I hope so. Should we cancel the trip?”

  “God, no. We need this. I have been working so much lately. Don’t worry. Come inside. You finish packing. I’ll come out and look for him.” Ron headed back out in his sweats and well-worn slippers.

  Jenny limped into the shower, holding her foot out to rinse off the blood and watching a drop fall to the floor and streak down the drain. Then she dried her foot and carefully placed th
e bandage.

  The rest of the packing went smoothly, although there was still no sign of the dog.

  “Into the car, Kip. Come on. It’s time to go.” She ushered their daughter into the backseat, finally feeling the first pangs of excitement.

  “We’re going to the beach.” Kip sang.

  “Are you excited?”

  “Ya.” Kip climbed into the toddler car seat, and Jenny strapped her in tight and patted her soft blonde curls. “Charlie?” Kip asked.

  “He’s lost, but Daddy told the neighbors, and they are going to keep an eye out for him. He always comes home.”

  “You have the directions?” Ron asked from the back as he finished loading the last of their bags.

  “Try the sat-nav.” Jenny pointed to the dash as she climbed into the passenger side of their black SUV.

  “I hate that thing.” Ron grimaced buckling up. “It’s only right most of the time.”

  “Most of the time? All of the time, for me. Anyway, I have my cell phone if it screws up.”

  “Turn right,” a perfect female voice instructed as Ron eased the car out of the drive and then abruptly slammed on the brakes.

  “God, Ron! What is this—whiplash?” Jenny grabbed her neck.

  “Look!”

  “Charlie! There you are, you silly doggie. Come on. Come in.” Jenny opened the car door.

  Charlie, happy as pie, leaped into her lap and licked her face.

  “I missed you, fella. Where’ve you been?”

  Charlie just wagged his tail.

  Jenny smiled as the car pulled away. Autumn leaves from her favorite tree were starting to carpet the ground outside their yellow seventies-style home, she noticed, even though it was only early fall. Already she could detect a slight change in the air in the mornings, a breeze that was just that much cooler.

  “It’s all good,” Jenny said, as Ron turned on the car stereo.

  * * *

  “They found what?” Carl’s southern accent was still thick, even though he’d been away from home for years. He stood on the hot deck of the old World War II destroyer, a white hard hat on his head, yellow safety glasses covering his eyes, and with his hands on the spare tire that encircled his hips.

  “Munitions. Old munitions,” the young welder yelled above the noise of the drilling.

  “We need to get that garbage the hell off. Now!” shouted Carl, shaking his head. “That’s all Ah need right now. You hear me—now!” Carl punched the buttons on his worn-out cell phone. “Yeah, get me the Admiral … wait … wait … never mind.”

  * * *

  The freeway was stop and go.

  “Mommy, I’m hungry.”

  “Me too,” said Jenny.

  Ron checked the clock. “Let’s stop and get a quick bite.” He changed lanes, slowed down.

  “Burgers?” Jenny asked, thinking only of meat.

  “Sure, my rear needs a break, and I forgot to tell you earlier...”

  “What?” Jenny asked.

  “...I have to make a conference call.” Ron’s tone was neutral.

  “Conference call? But you’re on vacation!”

  “I have to. There’s something going on.”

  “Can’t someone else handle it?”

  “No. I need to be in on the call. I’m the one who sees the client face to face. I’m the designer. I have to.”

  “But Ron, you’ve only been off half a day. They need you already? They’ve known for ages that you were taking time off.”

  “It’ll be quick: fifteen minutes, tops.”

  “It better be.”

  He went through the drive-thru and pulled into a small parking lot packed with lunch-rush cars. Jenny climbed into the back with Kip, trying to help her tiny hands grip the cheeseburger.

  “Mmm.”

  “Good, huh?”

  Kip’s blonde curls bounced as her burger slid out of its bun and plopped onto the beige car seat. “Oops.” She giggled.

  Jenny blotted at the red stain with the paper napkin, pushing the burger back into the bun with her other hand.

  The burger still looked good. Jenny bit into it—nausea. She tried to mask it with a sip of chocolate milkshake. “Gosh.”

  “Mamma. More!”

  “Here, have some apple.”

  Fifteen minutes passed. The food was gone, leaving a lingering film of grease around her mouth. Jenny rolled down the window. “Ugh … Jesus.”

  “Jeeeeesus.”

  “Kip, don’t say that.”

  Charlie barked, as if to agree.

  Jenny concentrated on the line at the drive-thru, each car slowly inching by. The occasional driver glanced over at her. “What are you staring at?” she grumbled under her breath.

  Charlie barked again.

  “I hate this. Come on, let’s go inside. Mommy needs to use the bathroom.”

  In the corner, Ron sat with his feet up on one of the worn plastic chairs. He stared out the window, one ear to his cell phone, listening. Jenny sat across from him and motioned with open palms. “What’s taking so long?” she mouthed, not so quietly.

  Ron gesticulated wildly for her to leave.

  Turning, she grabbed Kip’s hand and stormed out, back to the car, slamming the door behind her. There was nothing to do except watch the cars, watch the clock, and tap.

  “Unbelievable! Forty-five minutes.” She leaned back, tired from the aggravation.

  Finally, Ron appeared and slid into the driver’s seat. “What’d you do that for? Why’d you come in? They could hear everything. Now I look like a fool.”

  “Ron, you said fifteen minutes.”

  “I told you, I can’t help this stuff. Now, please...”

  “Please what … shut up?”

  “No…” Ron shook his head and rested his forehead on the steering wheel. “I don’t want to fight. Can we just stop?”

  Jenny crossed her arms, already beginning to tune out. “Fine.”

  The roads emptied as they exited Olympia, hitting the country highway west. The ominous clouds cleared and a ray of sunshine dashed through the windshield, flashing right in Jenny’s eye. She slid on her dark sunglasses and laid her blonde head back, drifting away to another place.

  The water was murky, and she floated in it alone. There was no sky, just liquid warmth, tugging, directing her somewhere and nowhere at the same time.

  She heard a roaring splash, and she flipped upside-down, sinking lower and lower, pressure increasing on every pound of flesh. Through the dark, it came—the whale, black and huge, long and smooth. Her descent ended. Her body suspended. It opened its mouth and all she saw were bright-white, razor-sharp teeth.

  Jenny gasped.

  “Honey, what’s up?” Ron glanced over then returned his gaze to the road.

  She ripped off her sunglasses, a tear rolling down her cheek. “That dream—I had it again. It won’t leave me alone.”

  “What?”

  “The whale.”

  “A whale?”

  “It has teeth, hundreds of horrid teeth. It’s so awful.”

  “I don’t think whales have teeth, maybe it’s a shark?”

  “God, Ron! It’s a whale! It’s massive.”

  “How long has this been going on for?”

  “I don’t know, a few months … maybe.”

  “It’s just a dream, honey. Don’t worry.”

  “I have it almost every day, throughout the day. Like it’s lurking there, behind my eyes, behind my thoughts, in my breath—in me.”

  Ron flicked the indicator on, checked his blind spot, and changed lanes. “I always have this dream that the dentist sits me in his chair, straps me down and removes too many of my teeth. And there’s the one where I’m falling and I land, and then I startle awake.”

  “Let’s change the subject. I’ll be fine.”

  “You sure there’s nothing else going on?”

  Jenny put her sunglasses back on. “No. Not a thing.”

  “Well, only another hour to
go and then we’re there. Is there anything you need? I can stop at the next exit”—Ron pointed forward to a fast-approaching off ramp—“get you some tea, coffee, something sweet?”

  “No.”

  “I’m sort of hungry. I forgot to eat earlier. I was so wrapped up in that phone call. Would you mind if we stopped quickly?”

  “Okay.”

  They all piled into the cluttered quickie mart, Jenny refereeing Kip, who tried to pull everything off the shelves while Ron paid for his candy and chips.

  “God, I love junk food; that’s one of my favorite parts about vacation.”

  Beyond Ron’s chatter with the disinterested teenaged cashier, Jenny could hear a quiet, distant barking. Outside, a lanky man stood peering into the back of their car.

  “What the...? Ron!”

  Ron was still chatting—something about coastal weather patterns and La Niña.

  The man just stood there, turning to stare into the quickie mart, right at Jenny. His face was shrunken, serious, and unshaven. In the back of the car, Charlie was going mental.

  “Charlie!” Ron noticed the barking when it increased in volume. With a wave to the teen, he walked out to the SUV. Jenny bent down to pick up Kip, but stayed in the store.

  “Who’s Daddy talking to?”

  “I don’t know, honey.” She gazed at the man again, watching him gesture to the dog, and decided to go investigate.

  “I used to have one just like him when I was a boy...” Jenny heard the man say in a hoarse voice as she approached.

  “Well, we’ve had him a few years now. He’s a good dog.” Ron reached in through the back window to pat the dachshund.

  Charlie barked.

  “Come on. We must get going,” Jenny said, the noise getting to her.

  The man just stared at the dog. “It was a sad day when we lost him.”

  “Ron?” Jenny moved into his line of sight and raised her eyebrows.

  “Yes, well, I’m sorry to hear that. We must get along now.” Ron followed Jenny around to her side and held the door open.

  “He was a good dog… yes he was…” the man said again, shaking his head.