Free Grady's Wedding by Patricia McLinn

body, reassured through touch that he was all right.
    The older boy came up, pale faced and anxious. “Is he okay?”
    “Yes, he’s okay,” his mother said firmly.
    “We don’t know how to thank you—”
    The man’s words ended in a deep gulp as his wife’s eyes filled and spilled over. Grady waved away the need for any words. The man shifted his son’s weight to one arm and reached out the other to shake Grady’s hand.
    “Thank you. You’ll never know— Thank you.” He swallowed. “C’mon, Brian, let’s get you dried out, okay?”
    As the family group started off, they heard the older boy say, “He was right there. I only looked away for a minute, Mom, honest!”
    The mother hesitated before she said very quietly, “We’ll talk about that later, Kevin.” But she put an arm around the slumped shoulders of her older son.
    Grady stared after them, his face unreadable.
    “Grady?”
    He didn’t blink, he didn’t respond, he just watched the family’s progress across the wide expanse of sand.
    Feeling as if she were prying, Leslie slipped away to where they’d left their towels and sunscreen lotions.
    She dried herself, then spread the towel and sat down. A glance told her Grady was no longer where she’d left him. She scanned the beach in the direction the family had gone without any sight of him. In the water, she spotted Tris, Michael and Paul grouped together, but no sign of Grady’s golden head. She turned and saw him. Jogging steadily, head bent as if in contemplation of his next footfall, in the opposite direction.
    She laid back and wondered what had been going on in Grady Roberts’s head when he’d stared after that family.
    She wasn’t sure how long she’d been lying there, but she was aware of the increasing warmth of her skin. As she turned over, she caught sight of Grady walking back along the water’s edge. Beside him was a young woman whose fall of shining brown hair hid more of her model-thin body than her bathing suit did. The young woman had her hand on Grady’s arm, and he was looking down at her.
    Tucking her own salt-stiffened hair behind her ear, Leslie turned away and rested her cheek on her arm.
    “Hey, Leslie, you’re starting to get pink.”
    She opened her eyes to see Tris toweling off and looking over her shoulder toward Grady and his companion.
    “Are Paul and Michael still in the water?”
    “Yeah, they’re swimming laps—as much as you can with the waves coming in. But I’ve about had it for this afternoon. I want to shower, wash my hair, then sip a tall drink on the porch. How about you?”
     “I’ve about had it, too. Your itinerary sounds great. Let’s go.”
    * * * *
    “Sometimes I could shoot Grady.” Leslie heard Tris’s voice, and hesitated before turning the corner that would take her into the kitchen. “He’s never going to change.”
    “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”
    “You didn’t see him, Bette.”
    “Actually, I did. I saw the whole thing from the porch, and it was the girl who approached him. And it didn’t take him long to head back to the rest of you. But by that time you and Leslie were nearly to the house.”
    Leslie backed up a couple steps, then scuffed loudly along the hall, emerging into the kitchen with a bright, “Hi. What’s everyone up to?”
    Tris gave her a wide smile. “Getting that drink we talked about and starting to talk about dinner. What do you think of shish kebab?”
    “We were talking about Grady,” Bette contradicted. “Of course there’s one thing you’ve got to understand about Grady.”
    Leslie could see Tris consider trying to override Bette, then decide to go full speed ahead. “Yeah,” Tris said dryly, “his emotional life’s like a firecracker. His relationships start off as if they’ve been shot out of a cannon, burst into their brief, shining moment, then fade out of sight, leaving only ashes.”
    “Very nice image, Tris.” Leslie knew her light tone was perfect, though it cost her