Sanctuary

favorites and surely, he thought, one that David Delaney had brought to the island with him that summer.
    He would have brought the bulky Hasselblad view camera as well, and the clever Nikon, along with a collection of lenses and filters and a mountain of film. Nathan had brought them all, and they were neatly stored, as his father had taught him, back at the cottage.
    But when his father hiked out to hunt a shot, he would most usually take the Pentax.
    Nathan chose the beach, with its foaming waves and diamond sand. He slipped on dark glasses against the fierce brilliance of the sun and climbed onto the marked path between the shifting dunes, with their garden of sea oats and tangle of railroad vines. The wind kicked in from the sea and sent his hair flying. He stood at the crest of the path, listening to the beat of the water, the smug squeal of gulls that wheeled and dipped above it.
    Shells the tide had left behind were scattered like pretty toys along the sand. Tiny dunes whisked up by the wind were already forming behind them. The busy sanderlings were rushing back and forth in the spume, like businessmen hustling to the next meeting. And there, just behind the first roll of water, a trio of pelicans flew in military formation, climbing and wheeling as a unit. One would abruptly drop, a dizzying headfirst dive into the sea, and the others would follow. A trio of splashes, then they were up again, breakfast in their beaks.
    With the ease of experience, Nathan lifted his camera, widened the aperture, increased the shutter speed to catch the motion, then homed in on the pelicans, following, following as they skimmed the wave crests, rose into their climb. And capturing them on the next bombing dive.
    He lowered the camera, smiled a little. Over the years he’d gone long stretches of time without indulging in his hobby. He planned to make up for it now, spending at least an hour a day reacquainting himself with the pleasure and improving his eye.
    He couldn’t have asked for a more perfect beginning. The beach was inhabited only by birds and shells. His footprints were the only ones to mar the sand. That was a miracle in itself, he thought. Where else could a man be so entirely alone, borrow for a while this kind of beauty, along with peace and solitude?
    He needed those things now. Miracles, beauty, peace. Cupping a hand over the camera, Nathan walked down the incline to the soft, moist sand of the beach. He crouched now and then to examine a shell, to trace the shape of a starfish with a fingertip.
    But he left them where he found them, collecting them only on film.
    The air and the exercise helped settle the nerves that had jangled before he’d left Sanctuary. She was a photographer, Nathan thought, as he studied a pretty, weather-silvered cottage peeking out from behind the dunes. Had his father known that the little girl he’d played mentor to one summer had gone on to follow in his footsteps? Would he have cared? Been proud, amused?
    He could remember when his father had first shown him the workings of a camera. The big hands had covered his small ones, gently, patiently guiding. The smell of aftershave on his father’s cheeks, a sharp tang. Brut. Yes, Brut. Mom had liked that best. His father’s cheek had been smoothly shaven, pressed against his. His dark hair would have been neatly combed, smooth bumps of waves back from the forehead, his clear gray eyes soft and serious.
    Always respect your equipment, Nate. You may want to make a living from the camera one day. Travel the world on it and see everything there is to see. Learn how to look and you’ll see more than anyone else. Or you’ll be something else, do something else, and just use it to take moments away with you. Vacations, family. They’ll be your moments, so they’ll be important. Respect your equipment, learn to use it right, and you’ll never lose those moments.
    “How many did we lose, anyway?” Nathan wondered aloud. “And how many do we have tucked away that we’d be better off losing?”
    “Excuse me?”
    Nathan jerked when the voice cut through the memory, when a hand touched his arm. “What?” He took a quick step in retreat, half expecting one of his own ghosts. But he saw a pretty, delicately built blonde staring up at him through amber-tinted lenses.
    “Sorry. I startled you.” She tilted her head, and her eyes stayed focused, unblinking, on his face. “Are you all right?”
    “Yeah.” Nathan dragged a hand