Five Days in Summer

their hands against each other’s as they leaned reciprocally into the space between them. Sammie appeared to be trying to push David over, as he resisted, a little annoyed.
    “You’re going for balance, not trying to overpower each other,” Will said.
    Sam eased up and met David’s equilibrium.
    Now Will’s eyes settled fully on Sarah. She waved.
    “Where’s Maxi?” he asked.
    “I left her sleeping in the car.”
    Sarah immediately realized her mistake. Emily was always correcting her mother’s old-time habits, like leaving babies alone in untended yards or letting them stay outside a store while you went in. It was true that Emily had never left Maxi alone to nap in the crib while they were at the beach; certainly the car was a worse transgression. Sarah thought of her acres as home and had always felt safe within their perimeters. But she should know better than that, especially now.
    Will shot by her, running quickly up toward the house.
    Left alone on the beach, mentorless, the peaceful mood of the boys’ practice instantly transformed to fight. Faces intent, they pressed harder against each other’s hands. David moved so quickly, Sarah couldn’t see exactly what he did, but Sam’s body sharply twisted and he landed facedown in the sand with an arm bent behind his back. David leaned over him, his forehead bristling with drops of sweat, holding his sixty-five-pound brother down with one hand.
    “David!” Sarah called.
    He released Sam, who scrambled up and wiped the sand off his face.
    “I’m telling Dad!”
    Sam took off into the grove of trees, laughing. David ran after him, his face gleeful, shouting, “Go ahead, tell him. I’ll really give it to you!”
    How was it Emily had described this most peaceful of martial arts? “The art of love.” “The way of harmony.” “Learning to care for your attacker.”
    Sarah hurried up to the house, not worried about the boys’ behavior so much as Maxi. She hoped Will had found her blissfully asleep, no worse for Sarah’s lack of judgment. But if not, if he had found her weeping in her seat, begging for release, Sarah would take full responsibility for her error. No explanations and no excuses. Whatever Will wanted to say to her, she would simply listen and then apologize profusely.
    She entered the kitchen and found Will standing there with his baby in his arms. He looked over at Sarah and smiled. So she had her reprieve. Maxi was thrilled to see her father. Sarah could imagine what Will was feeling: the soft plush body against his skin, the tight little arms around his neck, the exuberant smile. This man needed his family as much as they needed him. It had taken years for Sarah to understand that Will was a rare breed of father, as Jonah had been. She had mistakenly judged Will early on; and now, around this latest bend, she needed him more than she ever could have predicted.
    Little was said as Sarah put together an early lunch of turkey sandwiches and cantaloupe. She was desperate to speak with Will, but it would have to wait, suspended, as the children’s needs were met.
    Maxi fussed again as Will tried to feed her. She kept turning her head away and pulling on her ear.
    “How’s she doing with that ear infection?” Will asked Sarah.
    “I’m not sure. She’s still fighting it off, I think.”
    “She’s getting her medicine?”
    “Of course.”
    Sarah couldn’t bring herself to admit that she had completely forgotten the medicine. She would sneak it to the baby after lunch, when Will stepped away. It would be less than a lie, just a harmless omission. They were both so ragged from lack of sleep.
    When Will took the boys into the living room to talk with them, presumably about Emily’s disappearance, Sarah seized the chance to get Maxi her antibiotics. The calibrated medicine dropper was still in the sink from yesterday morning. Sarah was washing it out with hot soapy water when the phone rang. She turned off the faucet and answered it.
    “I’m calling about the ‘missing’ sign,” a man’s voice said.
    “Have you seen her?” Sarah felt a coil of hope.
    “No.”
    Will appeared beside the phone, his expression keen. Sarah shook her head, and he deflated.
    “Who is it?” Will whispered.
    Sarah shrugged.
    “Is it the police?”
    She shrugged again.
    He reached out for the phone. “May I?”
    “Will, wait, I need to tell you something—”
    But he took the phone out of her hand and pressed it to his ear. “This is Will