There was something like a cross between a sob and a laugh -- quickly smothered by a more manly grumble -- and Jack took her hands in his -- tried to kiss them.

"A shift," he corrected gently. "Shifted. You're shifted. But it's breaking." Please let it be breaking. Jack kept his back to the waves, not caring when they broke over his hips and pushed him shoreward. This water, maybe, was helping her remember.

He wasn't making any connections with the fruit yet.