"Cady, I want you in bed before eleven tonight. That's why you're getting sick, dear. You're burning the candle at both ends!"

"I'll try, Mom. I have to finish this last page -- my newspaper deadline is tomorrow."

"The deadline won't matter much when you're sick and can't give it to them."

"Mom --"

"I know, I know. You can handle it. Goodnight, Cady, I love you."

"I love you, too, Mom." Cady leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes. She had been staring at the computer for the past three hours, and it was now eight-thirty. My fault for procrastinating, she thought. Everyone says they'll give me their articles early, but I don't get them until the last minute!

She reclipped her hair before straightening up and placing her hands back on the keyboard. She had lied about it being the last page. She still had four articles, a crossword puzzle, and an editorial to fit in, and then a round of proofreading.

Being in bed before eleven doesn't necessarily mean I have to be asleep . . .

Three hours later Cady set the draft and her highlighter aside. She had made a lot of mistakes in her haste to get it finished.

I'll just have to get up early and fix it.

Cady adjusted her comforter around her and scratched her cat, Sherlock, behind the ears before leaning back into her pillows.

As she finished her prayers that night, she made one last request: Dear Lord, please let my load lighten a little, or at least help me forget everything that's going on, even if it's just for a little while . . .

When Cady opened her eyes, she was greeted with unfamiliar sights and sounds. She was lying down on . . . was that sand? And the night sky above her was littered with thousands of stars. She reached her arm out to her side and felt damp sand, which was soon overrun with lukewarm water.

Where in the world am I?

She bolted up quickly and jumped away from the water as she remembered it was there. That was a close call . . . A foaming white wave quickly crawled up to where she was just lying. She didn't want to risk getting too wet when she had no clue where she was.

Cady looked around her. Everything was so unfamiliar. Where was she? If she squinted her eyes a bit and looked to her left, she could see a faint orange glow in the distance.

She hesitantly took a step forward. Oh well, she thought, it's better than nothing.

As she walked, the light kept moving closer, not father away as she half expected it to. It even took on an orangish glow like a fire.

And it was a fire. With four figures around it. If she stood still and listened closely, she could hear faint music and voices over the crash of the waves and shifting of the sand beneath her feet.

As the figures came in to focus, she could see that they were four men. Four men sitting on blankets around a fire and singing songs. Familiar songs, at that.

"Come with me, I'll take you where the taste of life is green, and everyday holds wonders to be seen . . ."

She knew them! She knew that she knew them! They were so failiar to her . . .

As their voices blended on the last note, tears started gathering in her eyes.

When they started to stand up and pick up the blankets, she couldn't help herself. She couldn't stay out of sight and silent any longer. She knew she would regret it to the end of her days.

"No! Please don't stop! It's so beautiful . . ."

They were all visibly shaken, but settled down on their blankets again when they saw she meant so harm.

"Well, if we had known we had an audience," nodded the one with the green hat as he settled his guitar back in his lap.

Cady smiled and sat down next to the one that appeared to be the youngest, around her age.

"Let's do Micky's new one!" cried the young man across from her. When he smiled at her, she just about burst out laughing from delight and surprise. He had the deepest, most gorgeous dimples she'd ever seen.

"All right, good buddy," Wool Hat, as Cady decided to refer to him as, said. he started right into the song, and the man who was singing earlier started again.

"People come and people go, movin' fast and movin' slow . . ."

It was so heavenly to sit and listen. Their voices were so exquisite, so . . . harmonic.

Cady smiled to herself at the irony. She wasn't even sure if that was a word.

She must have either drifted off or become so involved in the music, because before she knew it, she was being bombarded with questions.

"So, who are you?"

"Where are you from?"

"Why are you out so late, love?"

"Did you like the music?"

Cady smiled at each of them as she answered the questions.

"My name is Cady, and," she paused, thinking, "I guess you could call me a drifter. I um . . . I woke up on the beach over that way," she pointed to an area past the man with the dimples. "And yes, I loved your music. I recognize it somehow . . . It just . . . it speaks to me."

"Glad to hear that -- at least it does to someone! I'm Micky, by the way, and that's Mike with the hat, and Peter right there, and you're sitting next to Davy."

"Nice to meet you all. I'm sorry I kind of dropped in, I just couldn't resist, you know."

"Oh, that's all right, love! It's not often girls drop in!" Davy smiled at her, and it filled her with warmth.

"A drifter?" asked Mike. "A drifter from where?"

"I don't know, actually. I have no recollection of this place . . . The only thing I know is I woke up and saw and heard you guys."

"Then you must have been meant to find us! Would you like a toasted marshmallow?" Peter handed the bag to her before she had a chance to reply. "Micky? Would you toast one for me? I'm going to go see if I can find any shells."

They sat in silence and watched Peter walk along the shore as they toasted their marshmallows. It was only when peter returned with his hands full that Cady realized Davy's hand had moved to cover hers.

"Look at these! Wow, aren't they beautiful? I found a lot tonight!" Peter dumped his treasures next to the fire and sorted them out.

Micky handed him his toasting stick as Mike started fiddling around with the guitar again.

"Oh, yes, could you play again? Please?"

Mike smiled and glanced at Davy. "You take the lead on this one, Jonesy. I have the feeling she'll like it."

The introduction was unfamiliar to her. When she finally recognized it, though, she was thrilled.

"But you guys don't sing this!"

Davy squeezed her hand as he began, "Someday, when I'm awfully low, when the world is cold, I will feel a glow just thinking of you, and the way you look tonight . . ."

Cady closed her eyes and leaned against him. This was pure heaven. Four handsome boys singing one of her all time favorites.

She felt something cool and smooth being slipped into her hand, and opened her eyes briefly.

Davy had given one of Peter's shells to her. She smiled at him before closing her eyes again to drift off to sleep.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Was that an alarm going off? Oh, geez . . .

Cady reached over and snapped it off. What day is it? Where am I?

She opened one of her eyes.

She was back in her room, and it was time for her to get up to finish the paper.

Oh, but her dream last night. What a dreamy dream . . .

It had been such a good dream. Davy's smile seemed like it was for her and her only.

Cady rolled on to her back and stretched. She felt oddly refreshed and amazingly happy. If only I could have a dream like that every night!

She sat up and yawned, bringing her hand up to her mouth to cover it.

It took a moment to register that something was not right. Terribly out of place.

She unfurled her hand and let something small drop on to her bedspread.

Cady looked down.

It was the shell that Davy had given her.