Sunday morning felt like the heavens were smiling down on Pearl Island. The winds had calmed; the sea had steadied, and the hopeful whispered the storm was going to pass them by.
For the first time in days, Morgan enjoyed her walk along the beach. The cold didn"t feel so sharp without the wind, and when she sat on her favorite rock along the beach, the sun breaking through the clouds warmed her even more. Cordelia was searching for sea glass, a habit she had developed recently, wanting to do arts and crafts with the beautiful pieces of polished stone. Misty was sitting next to Morgan, her purring loud enough to hear above the surf.
Morgan had brought a small hand-carved wooden recorder with her, and as Cordelia played along the surf, she played the haunting melody that told of the Seaver
