When Beth woke up the next morning, she expected to find Alastor wide awake in the kitchen, making a cup of coffee. But he wasn't in the kitchen at all. He wasn't in his bedroom either, his bed hadn't even been slept in, and Charlie wasn't sleeping on the couch in the living room. She searched the entire house but they were nowhere to be found. She looked out the window and saw no trace of Alastor's car. She started to panic.

She grabbed the phone and dialed Rosie's number. It was a few minutes before someone picked up.

"Hello?" The voice on the other end yawned.

"Rosie?"

"Who is this?"

"It's Beth."

"Beth? Sweetie what are you doing calling me this early?"

"Aren't you normally getting ready for work by now?"

"I have my days off too you know. Anyway, what's going on? Is this important?"

"Yes! Very! Alastor is missing and so is Charlie!"

"What are you talking about?"

"He didn't come home last night and he didn't call to let me know that he wouldn't. That's not like him. We have to call the police!"

"Now darlin, let's not cry murder before we check the body for a pulse." She could hear Rosie sit up in the background. "I think I know where you might be able to find him."

"Really? Where?"

"If I'm right, he's down by the shore."

"What's he doing down there?"

"You'll have to ask him that yourself."

"You think Charlie might be down there with him?"

"Possibly. Look just go look for him on the beach. If he's not there then call the police."

"Okay. Thanks Rosie."

Beth hung up and hurried down to the beach. She can't imagine why he would go down there without her. He hated the beach. And where was Charlie? This was so weird. It took fifteen minutes but she managed to locate the two of them and when she saw the position they were in, she started to worry.

Alastor was laying on the beach and lying next to him was Charlie. He was on his back, she was on her side but her upper body was resting on his chest and his arm was around her. They were both sound asleep and appeared to be unconsciously content.

"Alastor Jean-Louis Boudreaux!" Beth cried.

Alastor and Charlie instantly sat up though they were still drowsy.

"I'm awake! Where's the coffee?"

"Oh five more minutes, please Helena."

It was a few seconds before they both became more awake and realized where they were. They were outside, on the beach, and in each other's arms. Their faces were almost looked blood shot and they slowly slid away from the other person.

"Well this is awkward." Alastor chuckled shyly.

"Yeah it is." She said in a similar tone.

"What were you two doing down here?" Beth asked.

"We were um..." Charlie wasn't sure how to answer.

"I had come down here to clear my head and Charlie wished to join me." Alastor lied. "I suppose we both became very tired and just drifted off."

Beth looked at her brother skeptically, not sure if he believed him or not. Then she noticed the picture frame and the small box that were at the other side of his body.

"What are those?"

Alastor grabbed them both before Beth could get a look at them.

"They're nothing important. Just some junk I intended to clean out yesterday."

"You're not telling me the truth."

"Beth go on back to the house, we'll be up there soon."

"I'm not stupid Alastor, why were you two really down here last night?"

"I said go back to the house! Now!" He ordered sternly.

Beth wasn't intimidated, not when she knew that he was lying to her and that he was the one in the wrong. But she knew Hell would freeze over before he admitted it so she ended up doing exactly what he said.

"Why didn't you just tell her the truth?" Charlie asked once Beth was far enough to where she couldn't hear them. "Come to think of it, why didn't you tell us what yesterday was?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Alastor, please. After last night you must know that I can be trusted. You can tell me. You have to tell someone at least."

He sighed.

"I didn't want Beth to figure out that yesterday was the anniversary. I did the beach trip and everything just to distract her from remembering the date."

"Why? She was Beth's mother too."

"That's right, she was her mother just as much as she was mine but Beth can't remember her and she hates it. Every year on the anniversary we lost her, Beth would cry and cry for hours because she was too young when our mother died and has no memory of her. She never had the chance to get to know her."

"But wouldn't her forgetting the anniversary be worse? And you mourning your mother all by yourself, can't be healthy."

"You don't understand."

"I do understand."

"No you don't. I don't deserve the right to mourn with her. I don't deserve the right reminiscence about our mother with her."

"Why do you think that?"

"Because it was all my fault!" He snapped, his face now just as broken as it was last night. For a moment she thought he was about to start crying again. But he didn't. Instead he took a deep breath and recomposed himself. "It's all my fault she's gone."

"Alastor." Charlie's eyes were as gentle as her tone. "How did your mother die? Why do you blame yourself?"

He couldn't look at her while talking about this.

"After my father died, my mother found it hard to support me. We had money problems left and right, she worked two jobs but it wasn't enough for her to give me the life she wanted me to have. She married my stepfather because he was well off and she hoped that he'd take care of us. But he didn't, he abused us both physically and her sexually. My mother wanted to take me and leave but if my stepfather even suspected she was thinking of leaving, he'd hurt me to intimidate her into staying. She was afraid for my life. Then Beth was born and one afternoon when I came home from school and Beth wouldn't stop crying, I caught him trying to smother her with a pillow."

Charlie covered her mouth in horror.

"The pillow was only inches from her face and he dropped it as soon as he saw me. I grabbed Beth from the crib, played dumb to what I had seen, and just kept her with me until our mother came home. I told her what I had seen and she finally decided to leave, but we had to be smart about it. After all we didn't have any money or any place to live, so for the next three years we planned our escape. Saved up our money, secured an apartment, all while making sure that Beth would never be left alone with her so-called father again. He wasn't supposed to be home the night we planned to leave, he was supposed to be at a poker game, but it was canceled and he came home right as we were halfway out the door."

"What happened?" Charlie asked.

A deep and agonizing pain filled Alastor as he recalled that dreadful night.

"He shoved my mother back into the house and called her an ungrateful slut. He jerked Beth from her arms and punched me in the face so hard that I fell to the floor. He shouted that it was my fault, that I had talked her into doing something so stupid, and he tried to shoot me in the head with his revolver. But she jabbed her fingers into his eye to stop him and then she handed Beth to me. She told me to lock ourselves in one of the rooms and not to come out no matter what I heard. So that's what I did. I locked myself and Beth in the basement, she cried, and I held her, and I just waited for it to be over. I wanted to help her but I just didn't know what to do. At long last, one neighbor heard the commotion and called the police. They told me that my mother was dead from a bullet in the heart."

"Oh Alastor." Charlie said both horrified and heart sick from his story.

"I was seventeen. I could have stopped him if I hadn't of been so scared. I was a damn coward who just hid in the basement and let my mother die. So it's my fault that Beth never really knew our mother."

Charlie gently placed her hand to his cheek and turned his face to look at her.

"Alastor it wasn't your fault."

"Yes it was. I should have done something."

"He had a gun and there was a toddler present. What could you have done? If you had interfered, then he would have probably shot you too and Beth would be all alone."

"You say that but I still feel like I could have done something."

"I think a lot of people feel like that when they lose someone they love. My parents, my sisters, even my grandmother all felt that they could have somehow prevented my sister Celeste's death. They all felt the urge to blame somebody. But blame won't bring that person back."

She took hold of his hand.

"And you know, I think maybe you should open up to Beth more about this. She doesn't remember her mother so you have to be the one to help her keep her mother's memory alive. It's what I wanted my family to do for my sister."

"It breaks her heart when she's reminded that she can't have any memories."

"But that doesn't mean she wants to pretend that her mother never existed, and I think you know that."

He looked into her eyes.

"Can you…Can you be there with me, when I talk to her? Please."

"Of course." She assured him with a smile.