THE WAVE

   The Rocks. Sunday, 6 a.m.
    From the rocks, David Sutter glanced over his right shoulder towards the cove and saw the first stirrings of life in Oceanview. The Reverend Harris was raising the American flag at the Oceanview Evangelical Church. Along Dorfmann’s Warf charter fishing boats lined up, boarding people who were looking forward to a days fishing beyond Ten Mile Reef. Directly across the cove stood the lighthouse on Sailor’s Island. The shift was changing. Though it was too far to see, Ollie Spencer would be standing in the whaler cursing and hauling on the lanyard of the cantankerous Evinrude. He was preparing to make the quarter mile trip to the mainland. Billy Fowler, his relief and David’s good friend, would give a wave as Ollie pushed off. David turned his face into the light sea breeze, raised his head and drew in a long breath. The salt spray dampened his face. It felt good.
    David, casting for stripers and blues from the spray soaked jetty, was a nineteen year old college sophomore on break. He was tall, with a pleasant, boyish face. His sandy hair, naturally curly, sprang from under his red baseball cap. He wore the uniform of the day: torn jeans with Reeboks, and an XXL sweatshirt with his college, Northeastern University, silkscreened across the front. He was the son of Daphne Sutter who ran Sutter’s Florist shop in Oceanview. Daphne was a lively, intelligent, good looking woman, widowed three years ago. Men had tried to gain her attention, but she wasn’t looking. Her husband, Gregory had been a merchant seaman. He’d been lost in a North Atlantic storm. On that cold, blustery day, Daphne had stood watch from the widow’s walk on her roof, for the last time.
    David took in the early morning scene with satisfaction. It always pleased him to be up and about, alert and well into the day before anyone else. True, he hadn’t eaten yet, and he’d be ravenous by the time he got home. No time to think about it now, though. He turned his attention back to fishing. He’d been out since four a.m. and had no luck. Two days ago, he practically had to fight them off. But not today. It was as if the fish had gone on vacation. Not even a porpoise was in sight, which was