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oad。
She went east on the highway； having no specific destination in mind； but seeking the exit for Watermill reminded her of a beach in that area she had heard talked about again and again。 Flying Point。
It was no surprise to her that she got lost； but this far out on the South Shore it was difficult to get too lost and at length she found herself at Flying Point beach。 She got out and； locking up； went out on the sand。
She was still far too full of energy to lie down so she walked。
The beach was wide； surprisingly free of debris； with sand； of a very pale colour。
The surf was up； curling high in a translucent green arc crowned by white spume before tumbling forward onto the sand in a dazzle of silver spray。
It was far from crowded this early in the morning； though the beaches this far out were never jammed the way places like Jones Beach always seemed to be。
It was quiet； peaceful with the repetitive sounds of the sea and the gulls calling as they wheeled into the sun。
The character of the beach changed so subtly that for a long time she was not even aware of any difference； but presently it seemed to her as if it had bee somewhat more familiar。 For instance； she knew that she was ing upon a narrow spit of land before she turned the curve of 〃the beach and saw it lying before her。 As this began to happen more frequently she began to wonder …where in fact she was。
Then； as she happened to look up from the beach to the houses she was passing on her right； she saw the familiar spires。 She Kit a brief twist in her stomach as if she was plunging downward in a high…speed elevator； wondering how she could have been so stupid。 Flying Point was just east of South Hampton and Gin Lane。
There it stood in all its looming splendour。 The family house。
As she stared； she saw the wooden； gate swing open and a figure e down the slatted redwood stairs onto the dunes。
My God； she thought。 It's Gelda！
Her first instinct was to turn round and simply walk away but she was rooted to the spot； thinking： what the hell is she doing at the house？
On the sand； Gelda had poised and now she took off her sunglasses。
She's seen me； Justine thought； panic…stricken。 I can't walk away now。
Gelda came towards Justine。 They stood facing each other on the near…deserted beach at a distance at which a pair of duelists might stand preparatory to firing at each other。
'Justine！'
'Well！'
'What a surprise。' Her eyes had gone dull； as if an iron gate had e crashing down behind them。 They talked as stiffly as if they were two strangers awkwardly thrown together at a party neither of them had wanted to attend。
'Are you here with 。。。 anyone？'
The wind whipped about them； making streamers of their hair as if they were pennants on a field of battle。
'No； I'm waiting for someone。'
'I am too。'
'Well。'
'Yes。' She did not want to admit to herself how much Gelda had changed。 How beautiful she was now。 How gracefully she moved。 And behind that； a kind of confidence that … well； she had always had enough confidence for them both。 It was Gelda who always had the boyfriends； who was always asked to parties and to football games。 It was Gelda who could ice…skate so exquisitely … her movements on the ice totally belying her weight … her dates soon clung to the side railings； watching her with unabashed awe。
Justine was always too young for this or for that； too skinny for the boys to notice her； too clumsy for sports。 She drew instead and became more isolated； her envy feeding upon itself like a ravenous cannibal。
'Is Father here？'
Gelda shook her head。 'No； he's in the city。' She hesitated a moment； debating with herself。 'He's in some kind of trouble。'
'That's nothing new。'
'No； but I thought you would be concerned … at the very least。 You always were with Mother。'
And there it was； staring at them both in the face like an ugly red sore。
'I can't help the way Mother felt；' Justine said defensively。 Anger began to fill her up； and if she had ever entertained the thought of telling her sister about Nicholas it fled now。
'And I can't help being the way I am。'
'That was always your excuse for doing just what you wanted。'
They stared at each other silently。 Justine was appalled yet unable to initiate any action。 My God； she thought despairingly； we're kids again。 We can't think like adults when we're around each other； just intent on hurting each other all over again。
Gelda squinted into the sun。 'D'you want to e inside for a while？'
'No； I …'
'Oh； e on； Justine。 You can unbend that much； I imagine。〃
'You have felt it； also。'
'Yes。 During the night。 This morning。 I don't know when。'
'It is important that you are here。'
'There was nowhere else to go；' Nicholas said。
Fukashigi smiled thinly。
There were no classes today and the dojo seemed enormous in its emptiness。 Sadly； it reminded Nicholas of the last time he had seen Kansatsu on the ryu outside Tokyo。 And it occurred to him that much of his life since then had been spent simply floating； the days and nights gently rocking him as they blended together； lulling him to sleep on the tide of their passage。
What had he really acplished in America？ What could he have done with that time had he stayed in Japan？ So much time。 And if he had never begun his studies in bujutsu？ What then？ What would he be now？ Some high government functionary； no doubt； with a high salary and a perfect garden。 Two weeks each year in Kyoto or somewhere on the seashore； even Hong Kong； perhaps； in a season when it was not overrun by Western tourists。 A loyal wife and a family。 Children to drool on him and laugh with。
The void； he realized； is only noticeable when it is no longer there。 Justine。 Justine。 Justine。 His reward for at last swatting down the past。 He very much wished to see again the graves of his parents； to kneel before their sokoba； to light the incense sticks； to say the litany of prayer over them。
'You have brought it？' Fukashigi said。
'Yes； I knew I must one day； though I don't know why。'
'e。'
Fukashigi led him through the abandoned dojo； striped with shadow and pale sunlight bleeding through the ragged rents in the flying lengths of oblique cloud that marbled the summer sky。
At the threshold to the back rooms； Nicholas shed his shoes； Fukashigi his geta； and the old man took him to the very rear of the building； to a room with a raised floor of tatamis。 He pushed aside the shoji and they entered。
Sitting cross…legged； Fukashigi waved his hand gracefully。 'Please place it between us。'
Nicholas put the parcel he had been carrying down onto the tatami and unwrapped it。 There was the dragon and tiger box that So…Peng had given to his parents。
'Open it。' Fukashigi's voice held a certain reverence。
Nicholas obeyed； lifting the heavy lid to display the nine cut emeralds。
All of Fukashigi's breath seemed to go out of him as he gazed at those nine bits of mineral which seemed to glow and spark in the low light。
'I never thought；' the old man said softly； 'that I would see such a sight。' He sighed。 'And they are all here。 All nine of them。'
He looked up。 The square room was immaculate； spacious； harmonious； calming。
'Time changes many things。 When you came to me so many years ago in Kyoto it was； I think； only the letter from my friend Kansatsu that stopped me from dismissing you out of hand。 Oh； so you did not know that。 Well； it is true。 And； to be pletely truthful； even after I had read the letter； I thought that I might be making a grievous mistake。 After all； Aka i ninjutsu； history informs us； is no acquired trait but a serious calling …quite as serious； quite as mysterious as the calling to serve Amida Buddha … to which one is born and bred。
'I can tell you that I had grave doubts concerning your entrance into Aka i ninjutsu； despite what Kansatsu wrote。 He is no ninja； I thought； therefore he cannot know。 But a breach of our security had already been created and； of course； you came to me appearing a Westerner。 I knew only that Kansatsu had not lost his mind。
'Of course； to have sent you away would have been； I know now； a mistake。' His fingertips caressed the box before him。