The Discovery, A Novel by Dan Walsh Page A

well,” he said softly. “Not just now, but with Hank. The two of you stole the show.”
    “I never knew he could dance like that,” she said, glad for the conversation. “He doesn’t seem like someone who—”
    “I know exactly what you mean,” he said. “I’d give anything to be able to dance half as well.”
    “You’re doing just fine,” she said.
    He squeezed her hand as he swung her gently in a half-turn. “Thank you. I did learn to slow dance a little.”
    “Who taught you?”
    “My mom, before . . . well, several years ago.”
    “Where is she now?”
    “She’s . . . both of my parents died earlier this year.”
    The words stunned her—they were not at all what she expected to hear. “I’m . . . so sorry.”
    “Me too,” he said. She thought she saw tears form in his eyes. He looked away. “I’ll tell you about it sometime, but not now. I just want to enjoy this moment.”
    She followed his lead as he backed two steps into an open spot and turned her the other way. When he looked into her eyes, his smile had returned, and the tears were gone. He looked as if he wanted to say something but held back. Something deep inside her stirred; she wished she could comfort him.
    They danced in silence a few moments. But he kept looking at her, and she didn’t look away. She didn’t want to. He seemed to be saying things with his eyes they both knew should not be said.
    But she wanted to hear them. She looked beyond him. It’s just the music , she thought. And the ocean, and the breeze. She looked back into his eyes as the song ended.
    If only she knew what he was thinking.

    Ben could hardly believe how things had turned out. Barb and Joe had plans to go out for dinner after the concert. Hank had to leave also. His aunt and uncle were driving up from Miami and his folks insisted he be there for dinner.
    Ben was actually alone with Claire. And she seemed in no hurry to leave.
    Most of the crowd had left the Bandshell. He and Claire followed many of them down the wide concrete walkway toward the amusement park. Claire gently corrected him when he’d referred to it as the boardwalk. Locals called it the “broadwalk,” she said, since it was rather broad and made of concrete instead of wood.
    They stopped for a moment to let the crowd thin out, leaned against the railing, and looked out over the ocean. Behind them, the sun was already setting. A string of pelicans flew by over the ocean. Ben watched amazed as they dove down, one by one, skimming one wing just inches above a wave. Just before it broke, the first bird tilted the other wing slightly and instantly rose back into the sky. At the same point, each of the other pelicans did the same maneuver, following right behind him. “Who teaches them to do that?” he said.
    “I don’t know,” Claire said. “God, I guess. Looks like it would be so much fun.”
    “That has to be why they do it,” he said. “Don’t you think? I mean, it doesn’t seem like something they have to do.” Right then, it dawned on him; he couldn’t remember the last time he did anything just for the fun of it. He looked at another odd sight on the beach, this one man-made. “I still can’t get used to the cars, people driving on the beach. I’ve never seen a beach like this. It goes out so far, and it’s so flat.”
    “It’s really just like this at low tide,” she said. “But low tide can last for hours here. And you’re right, I think this is one of the few beaches in the world like this. They actually race cars here.”
    “On the beach?”
    She pointed south. “Down by the inlet. They created a track there a few years ago. You know where the lighthouse is?”
    Ben nodded.
    “It’s right around there. I don’t think they’re racing this year because of the war, but I’ve watched a few of them with my dad a few years ago.”
    “You mean drag racing?”
    “No, stock car races. Maybe thirty or forty cars at a time. They block off traffic and use