The Heart's Content

Beth could hardly contain her excitement when Alastor told her about their vacation. It was all she could talk about until June 8th, and aside from her schoolwork, all she could do was prepare for the trip. She packed her swimsuits, snorkel and goggles, digital camera, books on marine life and lore, and her entire allowance. Eager to make the most of their time, she researched everything about Chant de la Muer and created a list of activities she wanted to experience.

When the big day finally arrived, they woke up early and set off on their journey. While Beth radiated joy, Alastor's feelings were more complicated. He was excited to spend the summer at Chant de la Muer, but it had been so long since his last visit that it stirred up old memories. Alastor didn't like to dwell on the past, as it often made him sad, and he couldn't afford to feel that way—especially not for Beth's sake. He had to be happy.

"Are you okay?" She asked during the car ride.

"Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well you've been way too quiet. Normally, you're talking up a storm when we're in a vehicle this long."

"I guess I just don't have anything to talk about."

"How about I give you something to talk about? Why don't you tell me what it was like living down there with Mom?"

"I was so young when I lived there, I don't really remember."

But he did remember—almost everything about those happy times, those wonderful moments he tried so hard to forget and pretend didn't happen.

"We moved when Mom remarried." He continued.

"But didn't you still take vacations there?" His sister asked.

"I was eight the last time, and honestly, I don't recall much."

"Do you remember it being fun?"

"Let's change the subject, Beth. We'll be here all summer, and I'll be working for Ms. Calhoun. What will you do to keep yourself busy?"

"They have these new marine biology classes for kids. They take students to the beach to study marine life and then out to sea for scuba diving. It sounds fun, and I read it looks great on college applications. Can I take the class? Please?"

"How much does it cost?"

"It's a public class, funded by the government."

"In that case, I don't see why you can't sign up. But I need to speak with the instructor to ensure you'll be supervised at the beach and out at sea. Speaking of which, we need to go over some rules."

"Oh God, no."

"First, no going to the beach unless I'm at the house or there's an adult with you."

"Why not? I swim in the creek by myself all the time."

"Yes, and I never liked that idea, but I eventually let it slide because the creek is shallow. The ocean is different—it's deep, rough, and has strong currents."

"I'm a good swimmer."

"Even good swimmers can drown. I'm serious, Beth. I'll take you to the beach, but you need to be careful. No swimming alone. Is that clear?"

"Fine."

"Now for the other rules: no talking to strangers, no going out after dark, I need to know exactly where you are at all times, and no smuggling animals into the house."

"Okay, deal. I'll be careful and follow the rules."

"Good."

It was midday when they arrived at Chant de la Muer, and the sight was utterly enchanting. This oceanfront community, nestled in natural beauty, boasted a lush maritime forest, serene marshes, and pristine beaches. At its heart lay a charming town and port, brimming with shops, stands, markets, a church, a school, and a theater. It reminded Beth of the stunning landscape paintings she had admired in museum galleries and online, yet no artwork or photograph could compare to the reality before her.