Secrets

Chapter 28

After a decent breakfast, Holly still had her hair pulled up as she had not been able to come up with a proper plan to help her friends. All her eavesdropping had done was confirm the truth of something she had suspected all along. The deep feeling of sadness overtook her mind once more and her stomach lurched violently, a phrase which here means causing her to feel ill to the point where she needed some more space.

"I'm going to go for a walk along the shoreline," Holly said to Mr. Caliban as she finished washing the dishes and putting them away.

The man from VFD hesitated when she announced this. Still, under strict orders to keep her safe by any means necessary, the agent did not want her out in the open without some form of protection. Enemies were everywhere and they were always watching. Despite the remoteness of the Snicket/Acton homestead, a submarine could surface on the shore, a villain could parachute in from the sky, or even hop out of a nearby dune to grab her. He could not take risks, especially when Jacques and K were counting on him.

However, at the same time, he knew he could not imprison the girl in her own home. While not entirely familiar with teenaged children, he knew they had a tendency to rebel when given strict rules. The children of VFD were particularly unmanageable... they had their own ideas and goals and were never afraid to deviate from the suggested path to achieve them. Unsure as I am of this man's past or what occurred in his mind, I would assume that he took many hours after this moment to think about his own daughter. While he was certain that she would not be a teenager by now, she would surely be rebellious as she grew, especially if she knew what drove him and his wife apart. However, it is unlikely that he would never know if this was to be true or not as there were thousands of miles and several bad choices separating them.

Having shaken the thoughts from his mind, Mr. Caliban nods.

"All right, but please don't go too far... we don't know what's out there."

Ominous in tone, the young girl nodded before going to retrieve her coat. She placed it on the piano bench by the back door and went to retrieve some items and her shoulder bag. Once packed, she bunded herself up against the elements, slid on her shoes, and exited through the back door.

...

Beaches have always been a strange location that continues to pop up in the many stories which I have researched. Such a place is seen as a narrow, gently sloping strip of land that lies along the edge of an ocean or another water-filled location. I, myself, have never been particularly fond of such places, mostly due to the overcrowding of people, the less than desirable umbrella patterns and the irritation of tiny dry, uncompromising, and gritty minerals that get into everything. I've also had experiences near such a shoreline that ended up in death, scandal, kidnapping, sadness, failure of businesses, and bankruptcy. We do know that the beach is the place where the Baudelaire orphans escaped the fire that destroyed their entire home and parents which also began their saga of tragic and unfortunate events. We also know that the siblings would return to the same beach two more times, although when cannot be confirmed at this time due to my manuscript being wedged between the cushions of a lounge chair, waiting to be uncovered by my editor who will order a single class of chilled water with lemon and be told that the chair is the only one available, even if the bar is quite empty. A beach would also be where the story of my sister would end and another of my relatives would begin. As for this relative, her story also began in such a place; being born on a sailboat during rough seas meant that the first walk she took was in her mother's arms as they brought her ashore and into her home for the first time. She had taken many walks on the same beach since then, even managing her first steps upon the mineral-based surface, which is difficult to do and another reason why I do not wish to visit such places unless for research purposes. However, my sister-in-law would tell me that the only way to walk in the sand is barefoot and not with heavily polished shoes. The seashore had been a place of refuge for Holly; a place where she could practice her violin in peace, a place where she was able to swim or sail whenever the mood struck her, and above all, allow her to reflect. I am told that she and her father took many walks after her mother had passed, it made them all feel closer to one another, even if one of them was gone. And while I cannot be sure now, she would continue to take these journeys to think after tragedy struck her again and again.