Chapter 44
They reach Zuma in Malibu, park in the overpriced lot, and hold hands across the stretch of cool sand. Maddy has no texture issues with sand, actually loves the feel of it between her bare toes.
As she splashes at the water edge and digs for sand crabs, Rebecca stares out across the endless ocean. Each swell seems like the earth taking a breath.
Since the sky has yet to shake off last night’s storm, the beach is relatively empty, just a few solo walkers, an old lady with a labradoodle, and a clutch of not-to-be-deterred surfers floating in place, waiting on a good break.
Rebecca shoves her hands into the pockets of her hooded sweatshirt, makes a fist around the Porsche key from the dryer.
While Maddy is distracted, scaring seagulls into flight, Rebecca pulls the key free and hurls it into the ocean, fob and all.
It plunks into the water, the slate-gray surface closes around it, and it is as if the key never existed.
Rebecca shuts her eyes, tilts her face to the sun, and breathes the ocean air. All she can hear is the rush of the sea, the cawing of the gulls, and the sound of her daughter’s laughter.
She never imagined that simple gratitude could feel so emancipating.