Sugar Sand Cay

Her confidence lasted for as long as he remained silent. When he opened his mouth, Rhonda crumbled.

"Mom. It's me, Caleb." His voice brought silence to the whole beach. "It's been almost twenty years."

"Caleb, stop it!" snarled his partner, putting a hand on his bicep, but he easily freed himself.

"I remember you from the pictures. Aunt Michelle," he gestured over his shoulder to the right―to the attractive, older woman. "Told me you went missing along this beach. I-I've come here every summer since I turned fourteen. I've walked this beach and I never thought. . ." More tears. "Never thought I'd see you. This isn't a dream, is it?"

If it was a dream, her stomach wouldn't have felt like it had been jabbed by a boxer. If it was a dream, her heart wouldn't have ached. Rhonda wouldn't have closed the distance and held the boy―yes, hairless and awkward because he was still just a boy―had it been fabrication.

This was her son. She could tell by his body language and how he watched her and by how her soul tore at the thought of disappearing from his life before he could even remember her face. He was also very much his father from the chin down. His trunks swung low on his hips and the sunglasses perched on his head were the same old brand; probably hand-me-downs.

Rhonda let herself be small. She'd acted big long enough. Sobbing, she leaned against this strange man and chanted the name he'd been called by the woman behind him. "Caleb, Caleb, Caleb. . ."

But if Caleb was nearly a man. . .

. . . how much time had really passed?