have brought glasses for the wine."

"We're roughing it," Joe said, pouring more into his paper cup. "I
wrote the cat burglar story," he remembered.

"Oh, good!"

"Yeah, I took it to the house in Kahala. An old guy answered the door
and told me that the family had sold him the house and moved to
California. He was nice. He gave me their address, so I sent the story.
You were right; it was my responsibility. It felt good to drop the
letter in the mail. Hope it gets to her." Alison clapped her hands. The
horses ears picked up. "I used to work with someone who lived around
here," Joe said. "The horses reminded me. Her name was Lovena. Her
family took care of horses."

"Where did you work?"

"In a warehouse. She was slim, like a boy, with short black hair and
brown skin. She was strong--beautiful, really. I was falling in love
with her, but I was married." Alison sighed.

"Lovena was great, very shy and quiet, hard working. Sometimes she
talked to me when the orders were packed and shipped. She talked about
horses and barracuda and manta rays. I guess there's one time of year
when mantas come into shallow water to mate or lay eggs or something.
People can step on them by accident and get hurt." Joe paused,
remembering. "When Lovena said 'manta' or 'barracuda,' the words
weren't just names; they were respectful. A 'bar-ra-cu-da' was
important, important as any life."

"What happened to her?"

"Don't know. I quit. I hated to say goodbye. In fact, the last day
there, I asked if I could come see her. She was feeling bad, too. She
looked me in the eye and said, 'Yeah--and you bring your wife and that
pretty little girl with you."'

"Good for her," Alison said.

"Mmm."

"It looks like the rain might be stopping. Let's find a beach," Alison
suggested.

"Yes." Joe corked the wine and called to the horses. "Say hi to Lovena
for me, will you?"

Alison drove out to the highway, and they spent the afternoon poking
around, reaching the end of the road and turning back. Neither was in a
hurry to return to the city. At the end of the day, they were standing
in a beach park as the sun slipped toward the horizon.

"I think a front just went through," Joe said. "Wow!" A dark cloud
layer caught fire, lit from below by the setting sun. Purple and
crimson flares rolled across the bottom of the ragged sky. Two hundred
yards away, a painted flagpole split the clouds with a brilliant white
line. It was like a crack in the univ