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Show THE UPSTAIRS PEOPLE-50 and a fat head, swiveling, cocked to one side it as if were listening. She ought to warn them. Then it was gone and all she could see were shimmering lines like vibrating wires in the air. The seagrass grew in swatches and the rust-colored sand fences leaned away from the shore as if something huge had stepped on them. She looked down at her legs and saw that they were covered with water. A wave hissed up to her with bubbling edges, nipped at her hand. It was cold. They were running towards her, swinging net bags filled with shells. Each took an elbow and dragged her away from the oncoming tide, but already her dress was soaked and she was cold. "We are sorry. We are sorry." Schilly chanted. "No idea the tide would move in so fast. You are all right." It was a command. Betty nodded. "Of course." They took her upstairs at the house. Schilly undressed her, and the man, blushing, lowered her into a warm bath. Betty was embarrassed but the warm water felt wonderful on her arms, her back, her belly. Schilly held her so she wouldn't slide under, and Betty felt safe, sleepy. When she awakened, she was lying between them on a large bed. In the morning, they dressed her, gave her breakfast, and insisted that she take a sack of shells home with her. Michael greeted her with frantic meows. A headless mantis crawled on the kitchen floor. She took a small conch out of the net bag, traced its outline with her fingertips, rubbed the smooth sides against her cheek, kissed the pink lips, flicked her tongue inside. |