She rushed to him, her arms flying around him as she buried her face into his chest and sobbed. Sam sighed inwardly and sank down into the grass with ...er. He held her, just as he had held her in the funeral. Now, he knew that she needed to talk. ‘It’s okay to miss him,’ he said softly as she sobbed. ‘If you want to talk, I’m here.’ He was right. She needed to talk. Words came out of her in a frenzied, incoherent flow, then became a stream of memories. She told him about her father, and he held. Not wanting to get the furniture covered with tanning lotion and sweat, Linda grabbed an old beach blanket out of the linen closet and spread it out in the middle of the living room. The three of us moved down on the floor onto the blanket and continued with conversation and beer. Linda and I were facing each other and Bill was stretched out along the side with his head at Linda’s end and his feet down beside me. I noticed each time Linda raised her bottle to take a sip; Bill’s eyes were glued. More

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