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"If we build it big enough," Luther said as he packed the damp sand, fortifying the wall, "maybe the tide won't knock our castle down?"

Rufus grinned at his son.

"If we built this thing taller than me, the ocean would still bring it down. There's no stopping it."

Luther scowled. "But we worked so hard. I like it. I don't want it to fall."

"Just enjoy it while you have it, son. By the way, that philosophy works for more than sand castles."

Luther came to his feet just as a breaker crashed twenty feet away.

Sea water raced up the sand, stopping just shy of the moat.

He turned around, glanced back toward the dunes.

The sun was just sliding down behind the live oaks on Ocracoke Island.

Only a few hours of daylight left.

It had been such a perfect day, and Luther felt a glimmer of sadness at the thought of it coming to an end.

He could see the ocean beginning to swell again.

Another wave coming.

He looked up at his father, saw Rufus smiling down at him, sweat beading out across the man's forehead under the jet-black bangs that stopped just above his eyes. The boy would always see his father like this, even in his old age.

Young. Fit. Strong and happy.

The breaker crashed ashore.

The sea foaming and fizzing like a bottle of spilt soda.

Rufus put his hand on Luther's shoulder.

"Here comes the first attack, my boy. Man your battle station!"

Luther stepped up to the front wall and watched the water race toward them with a lump in his throat.

# # #

When the sun was gone, they got a bonfire going and roasted wieners over a bed of coals that Maxine had spread out in the sand.

Luther and Katie sat together eating hot dogs as the tide went out, the sound of the breakers now growing steadily softer.

When he was finished with supper, Luther leaned against his sister and stared into the flames, his belly full, watching the fire consume the wood of some ancient shipwreck. He could feel the accumulation of sunlight in his shoulders—a warm, subtle glow. His eyes were heavy.

"You tired?" Katie asked.

"No."

"Yeah, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"It's okay to be tired, Luther."

"I know."

She kissed the top of his head. "Sorry about your castle. You still sad it's gone?"

Luther said nothing.

"It was really cool, buddy," Katie said. She craned her neck and looked him in the eyes, must have seen the tears welling, shining in the light of the fire. "Luther," she said, "you'll get to make another one. I bet it'll even be bigger next time."

Luther glanced up through the flames at his father and mother, Maxine wrapped in a shawl and cuddled up between Rufus's legs nursing a cold beer.

The heat of the fire felt good lapping at his face. He could've fallen asleep to it.

Gazing up into the sky, he watched the sparks rising toward the stars.

Smelled the residue of suntan lotion on Katie that the sand hadn't worn away.

Coconut.

He filled with a sudden and profound warmth for his sister.

Only three years older than he was and yet she understood him better than anyone else. Better even than their mother.

He'd just started to reach for her hand when he noticed the light.

For a moment, he mistook it for a lightning bug—it had that floating, bouncy quality—but then he realized it was the bulb of a flashlight moving toward their fire.

Still thirty or forty yards away, and he couldn't have known how often he would dream of that image. How thoroughly the fear of it would come to define him. So innocuous—just a speck of brilliance coming toward him in the dark.

His mother must have noticed the diversion of his focus, because she said, "What's wrong, boy?"

Luther jutted his chin toward the light. "Somebody's coming."

"Probably just someone out for a late-night stroll," she said.

"Can we spend the night here?" Katie asked.

"I don't think so," Rufus said. "I need a shower."

Maxine chuckled. "And a soft bed, sweet-sweet."

"Absolutely."

"But it'd be fun!" Katie whined.

"Another time, princess," Rufus said. "We didn't even bring our sleeping bags."

The light had nearly reached them now, Luther watching it