Excerpt from Someone Else's Shoes
August, 2007
A small figure hesitated at the high tide line as her dog rushed out towards the surf. The Border collie ran in looping circles from the water’s edge and back to the girl, where she stood holding a bucket of oyster shells. He barked excitedly in short, bright bursts; a warning. Grabbing hold of his ruff, she tried to hush him, but he shook her off and ran back to a small, dark clump on the beach. The wind shrieked at her, pressing her raincoat into her back as she followed his movement. The dog returned with the object in his mouth, laying his prize at the girl’s feet; one muddy running shoe. An unfamiliar smell clung to the runner, its sock hanging damply to the side, taunting her, laces still tied in a neat row of crosses. She got down on her haunches to have a closer look, and poked it with a stick. A tiny brown crab scuttled out from the sock, and the hairs on her neck pricked up. She didn’t like the smell.
“Come on. Let’s go.” She whispered, leaning in to the soft part of her dog’s ear.
She snatched her bucket up and started walking back along the beach. Whimpering, the dog picked up the shoe and followed the girl. A tentacle of wet hair escaped from under her hood. Impatiently, she brushed it back from her face. Squinting into the wind, she searched the sky for coming weather, like her father had taught her to do. A dark parade of rain clouds had gathered over Jedediah Island, begging her to quicken her pace. She wanted to be back on the boat, where she could hide from the stinging rain. She urged the dog on, calling him sharply. One paw planted on the shoe, his snout pressed deeply into the cavity of the runner, he was oblivious to her requests. Reaching down past his damp fur, she scooped the shoe up into the bucket and ran towards the pier where the sailboat was moored. The bucket seemed too heavy, its weight fastening her fingers tighter around the handle.
“Dad, I found something.”
Her father called the coast guard.