She pointed down the beach to Pip then, as the child looked sorrowfully over her shoulder. There were tears brimming in her eyes that spilled onto her cheeks, and all Matt wanted to do was hug her, but he couldn't.

“It's all right, Pip. I understand,” he said softly.

“I'm sorry,” she said, nearly sobbing, as her mother continued to point, and even Mousse looked subdued, as though he sensed that something awkward had happened. And with that, Ophélie took Pip's hand in her own, and led her firmly back down the beach, as Matt watched them. His heart went out to the child he had so quickly grown attached to, and for an instant, he wanted to shake her mother. He could understand her concerns, but they were unwarranted, and it was so obvious that Pip needed someone to talk to. Her mother may not have eaten much in the past nine months, but it was Pip who was starving.

He put his paints and drawing away then, and folded up his stool and easel, and with his head down and a grim expression, he walked back to his cottage to drop them off. Five minutes later, he was on his way to the lagoon to take his boat out for a sail. He knew he needed to get out on the water to clear his head. Sailing always did that for him, and had all his life.

And on their way back to the part of the beach that belonged to the gated community, Ophélie interrogated her daughter. “Is that what you've been doing every time you disappear? How did you meet him?”

“I just saw him drawing,” she said, still crying. “He's a good person. I know it.”

“You don't know anything about him. He's a stranger. You don't know if what he told you is the truth. You know nothing. Did he ever ask you to go to his house?” her mother asked with a look of panic. The possibilities didn't even bear thinking.

“Of course not. He wasn't trying to kill me. He taught me how to draw Mousse's back legs. That's all. And a boat once.” Killing her wasn't what Ophélie was worried about. She was an innocent child who could have easily been raped, kidnapped, or tortured. Once Pip trusted him, he could have done anything he wanted. The thought terrified her. And all of Pip's protests meant nothing to her. She was a child of eleven and didn't understand the potential dangers of befriending a strange man about whom she knew nothing.

“I want you to stay away from him,” Ophélie said again. “I forbid you to leave the house without a grown-up. And if you don't understand that, we'll go back to the city.”

“You were rude to my friend.” Pip was suddenly angry, not just heartbroken. She had lost so many people she cared about, and now she had lost this one as well. He was the only friend she'd made all summer, or in a very long time.

“He's not your friend. He's a stranger. Don't forget that. And don't argue with me.” They walked the rest of the way in silence, and once back at the house, Ophélie sent Pip to her room and called Andrea. She sounded distraught as her friend listened. Andrea heard the whole story, and then asked questions, sounding like an attorney.

“Are you going to call the police?”

“I don't know. Should I? He looked fairly respectable. He was decently dressed, but that doesn't mean anything. He could be an ax murderer for all I know. Can I get a restraining order against him?”

“You don't really have grounds to do that. He didn't threaten her, or molest her, or try to get her to go anywhere, did he?”

“She says he didn't. But he may have been trying to set the stage to do something dreadful later.” Ophélie had a hard time believing his intentions had been innocent. In spite of everything Pip said, or maybe even because of it, she sensed danger. Why would he make friends with a child?

“I hope not,” Andrea said, sounding thoughtful. “What makes you think it wasn't innocent? Did he look like a weirdo?”

“What does a weirdo look like? No…he looked relatively normal. And he says he has children. But he could be lying.” Ophélie was convinced he was a child molester.

“Maybe he's just friendly.”

“He has no business being friendly with a child that age, particularly a little girl. She's at exactly the right age for men like that to go after her, she's a total innocent, that's how they like them.”

“That's true, of course. But maybe he isn't a pedophile. Was he cute?” Andrea grinned at her end, and Ophélie sounded outraged.

“You're disgusting!”

“More important, was he wearing a wedding ring? Maybe he's single.”

“I don't want to hear this. The man was making friends with my daughter. He's four times her age, and he has no business doing that. If he is decent, then he should know better, particularly if he has children himself. How would he feel if some man were chatting up his daughter?”

“I don't know. Why don't you go back and ask him? Actually, he's beginning to sound interesting. Maybe Pip did you a favor.”

“She did nothing of the sort. She put herself at great risk, and I'm not going to let her out of the house without me. And I mean it.”

“Just tell her not to go back. She'll listen.”

“I did. And I told him I'd call the police if he came near her.”

“If he isn't a rapist, and he is a decent guy, he must have really liked that. Maybe we need to file down your fangs a little. I'm not sure you're quite ready for reentry.” Matt was beginning to sound all right to her. She wasn't sure why, but her instincts told her the guy might actually be decent. If so, Ophélie's tirade must not have been appreciated or welcome.

“I'm not interested in ‘reentry.’ I'm not planning to reenter. I'm planning to stay out here. But I don't want anything terrible happening to Pip. I couldn't stand it.” Her voice shook as she said it, and there were tears of terror in her eyes.

“I understand that,” Andrea said gently. “Just keep an eye on her. Maybe she's lonely.” After she'd said it, there was a silence, as Ophélie sat at the other end and cried.

“I know she is. But I can't seem to do anything about it. Chad is gone, her father's gone, and I'm a basket case. I'm barely functional. We don't even talk to each other.” She knew it, she just couldn't get out of her own black hole enough to change it.

“Now maybe you've got the answer as to why she's picking up strangers,” Andrea said gently.

“Apparently, they draw together,” Ophélie said, sounding desperate. The entire episode had upset her immensely.

“There are worse things. Maybe you should invite him to the house for a drink and check him out. He might actually be a decent guy. You may even like him.” As Ophélie listened, she shook her head.

“I don't think he'd speak to me after everything I said to him.” But she wasn't sorry she had. They still had no idea who he was.

“You could go back and apologize tomorrow. Tell him you've been through a tough time and you're a little nervous.”

“Don't be silly. I can't do that. And besides, what if I was right? Maybe he is a child molester, for all we know.”

“In that case, don't go back and apologize. But my guess is that he's just a guy who was painting on the beach and likes kids. It sounds more like Pip went after him.”

“And that is precisely why I sent her to her room.”

“Poor kid. She didn't mean any harm by it, she was probably just having fun.”

“Well, from now on she'll have to stay close to the house and have fun here.” But after she hung up, Ophélie realized how little fun she provided for her. There were no children to play with, no activities, and they never did anything together anymore. The last time they'd been out somewhere together was the day that Ted and Chad had died. Ophélie had taken her nowhere since then.

After talking to Andrea, Ophélie went and knocked on the door of Pip's room. The door was closed, and when she tried to open it, she found it was bolted from inside.

“Pip?” There was no answer, and she knocked again. “Pip? May I come in?” There was another long silence, and then finally a small voice drowning in tears.

“You were mean to my friend. You were horrible. I hate you. Go away.” Ophélie stood on the other side of the door, feeling helpless, but not guilty. She had an obligation to protect her daughter, even if Pip didn't agree or understand.

“I'm sorry. You don't know who he is,” she said firmly.

“Yes, I do. He's a nice person. And he has children in New Zealand.”

“Maybe he was lying,” Ophélie persisted, but she was beginning to feel foolish trying to convince her through a locked door. And it was obvious that Pip had no intention of letting her in. Nor of coming out. “Come out and talk to me.”

“I don't want to talk to you. I hate you.”

“Let's have dinner and talk about it. We can go out if you want.” There were two restaurants in town where they had never been.

“I don't want to go anywhere with you. Ever again.” Ophélie didn't say it, but she was tempted to point out to Pip that her mother was all she had. Just as Pip was all she had now. All they had in the world was each other. They couldn't afford to be enemies or at each other's throats. They needed each other far too much.

“Why don't you just unlock the door? I won't come in if you don't want. You don't need to keep it locked.”

“Yes, I do,” Pip said stubbornly. She was holding the drawing of Mousse that she'd done with Matt, and still crying. She already missed him. And she wasn't going to let her mother keep her from him. She'd go to see him on the days when she was with Amy. And she hated the things her mother had said to him. She was mortified for him.

Ophélie continued to try to coax her out for a while longer, and then finally gave up, and went back to her bedroom. Neither of them ate dinner that night, and hunger finally drove Pip out of her bedroom the next morning. She came out for a piece of toast and a bowl of cereal and went back to her bedroom. She said not a single word to her mother, as she prepared her breakfast, and then left.

And at his house, Matt had lain awake all night, thinking of her, and worried about her. He didn't even know where they lived, so he could make a formal apology to her mother, in the hopes of softening her position. He hated to let Pip slip out of his life. He hardly knew her, but he already missed her a lot.

The war between Pip and her mother went on until early afternoon. And then they sat through one of their silent, painful dinners. It was the look on Pip's face that finally unnerved her mother.

“For heaven's sake, Pip, what's so special about him? You don't even know him.”

“Yes, I do. And I like to draw with him. He lets me sit there. Sometimes we talk, and sometimes we don't. I just like being with him.”

“That's what worries me, Pip. He's old enough to be your father. Why would he want to be with you? It's not healthy.”

“Maybe he misses his children. I don't know. Maybe he likes me. I think he's lonely or something,” just as she was, but she didn't say that. She was remarkably stubborn, and ready to defend their cause.

“Maybe I could go with you sometime, if you really want to draw with him. I don't think he'd be very happy to see me.” After everything she'd said, it would have been a miracle if he didn't throw his easel at her. And she wasn't sure she blamed him. She was beginning to wonder if she had been a little extreme in her position, or at least her expression of it. She had pretty much accused him of being a child molester. But at the time, she'd been startled to see them together, and frightened for her daughter. It was a somewhat normal reaction, although she had expressed it more than a little bluntly.

“Can I go back to see him, Mom?” Pip looked excited and hopeful. “I promise I'll never go to his house with him, and besides he never asked me.” And she sensed correctly that he wouldn't. He would never have put her in that position, or himself.

“We'll see. Give me a little time to think about it. He may not want you there now,” Ophélie said realistically, “after everything I said to him. I'm sure he didn't enjoy that.”

“I'll tell him you're sorry.” Pip beamed at her.

“Maybe you should take Amy with you. I'll walk down the beach with you later, and apologize. I hope he deserves it.”

“Thank you, Mom,” Pip said, with eyes filled with light again. She had won a major victory, the right to visit her only friend.

They walked down the beach together later that afternoon, and Pip could hardly contain herself as she ran along the water's edge with Mousse. Ophélie trailed far behind, she was trying to think of what she was going to say to him. She was doing this for Pip.

But when they got to the spot where Pip had always seen him before, there was no one there this time. There was no sign of Matt, the easel, or the folding stool. He had been so disheartened by the events of the day before, that he had stayed inside, despite Wedgwood blue skies, and was quietly reading a book. He wasn't even in the mood to sail, which was rare for him. Ophélie and Pip sat on the sand together for a long time, talking about him, and finally they went back up the beach, hand in hand. For the first time in a long time, Pip felt closer to her mother again. And she was glad that she had at least tried to apologize to Matt.