After the message came, she spent most of the time on the beach picking up seashells. Sometimes she made piles of all kinds. Sometimes she passed by the common shells and picked up only the rare ones. She waited for three days, as though the mere passage of time would make the message clear. Then she remembered that Bill had told her to get on the beach bus and go to the Red Cross in the city if she was in trouble. The message seemed to be trouble, so she walked from the cottage to the coastal highway and stood there and a bus stopped for her, as Bill had said it would do. She was so young and so pretty that people on the bus smiled at her, and she smile back. She got off the bus at the terminal. She stood still. The driver passed her on his way to the office and turned back.
He asked, "Where did you want to go?"
"I want to go to the Red Cross."
"It's right across the street. There."
Inside the office she stood in front of a desk while many people came and went and talked with a plain, capable woman. After a long time the woman said, without looking up, "Can I do something for you?"
"Please, can you tell me what it means when it says he is missing?"
The woman looked up in amazement. She hardened before the gentle face with china-blue eyes, loose blond hair, and an infuriating innocence.
She said, "Really now, just what do you think it means?"
"I think it means they don't know where he is. Not right now."
"Not right now?"
"No, not the same as lost. I thought maybe you'd know how long it will take them to find him, if it isn't the same as lost."
"Really? I can assure you it is the same as lost. It means he may possibly be found but that probably he won't."
"Probably he won't?"
"Almost certainly not. Is it someone close to you?"
"Oh, no. He's a long time way away. He said it would be a long way."
"Is there anything we can do for you?"
"I don't know."
She returned to the bus station and stood until the same driver asked her if she wanted to go back to the beach. When she opened her purse to pay her fare, she saw Bill's picture and took it out. It was not the same as when she looked at him, himself, but it was tangible, and she held it in her lap as a child holds a doll. She remembered with pleasure that Bill had her picture, too, and had written to tell her that he had showed it to the men on his ship and they had said she was very pretty. It pleased her to be told she was pretty, though she was without vanity.
On the bus, forgetting to watch for her stop, she thought about Bill. He had left her in the cottage on the dune because she was happy at the seashore in the summer. The shells kept her occupied for hours at a time. And too, he would be on the ocean most of the time, he told her, and she might look at it and know that somewhere he was there.
She did not notice her stop, but the bus driver remembered, and when he stopped the bus and looked back at her she got off and walked up to the cottage. She felt hungry and went to the icebox. There did not seem to be very much left in it, and it occurred to her that she should have bought something while she was in the city. She had used most of her money, but there were two government checks in her purse. She ate some crackers and peanut butter and walked automatically down to the beach.
The tide was low and the sea calm. She wished she had put on her bathing suit, even though she understood that she was not to go out in the water any deeper than her knees.

((To be continued))
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