Lana woke to rain lightly falling, making a pitter patter sound. It sounded like a symphony orchestra softly playing Beethoven's Fur Elise. As much as she enjoyed her personal concert, she had to get moving. She stretched and realized how cold it was in the house. She wrapped a brown patch work quilt around her shoulders and hunted for the thermostat. The fire had died out, but a few small embers glowed beneath the ash. She stirred them trying to coax them back to life then added a few logs, hoping the fire would rejuvenate itself.
Then she ran to the kitchen to make coffee, wishing she had remembered her house shoes.
She danced around like a ballerina in Swan Lake, hoping if she jumped high enough her feet wouldn't touch the cold tiles. Acting silly caused her to trip and almost fall, but not before stepping on the blanket. Lana laughed at herself when she realized she could stand on the blanket and scoot. Accidents happen for a reason.
She rummaged through the cabinet and found Folgers coffee, her favorite. Mike did a good job supplying her with her desperately needed morning java. Milk tasted good in the coffee, but she would have to remember to get some French vanilla cream. The fridge did have some raspberry pastries, so she nuked one. She snuggled in the patchwork quilt and watched the news.
The weather report stated the bone-chilling cold was predicted to stay around for a couple more days; then the temperature might drop twenty degrees when the low came down from Canada. Watching the Weather Channel reminded her of visits from her grandmother. Granny always watched the weather channel for ten hours straight. She pointed to the different parts of the country wherever it happened to be raining. "Look, it's going to rain any minute," she would say, even thought there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Lana always smiled when she thought about Granny and her antics.
Thirty minutes had passed since she turned up the heat and the temperature in the house still lingered at fifty-eight degrees. She rechecked the thermostat and the lever pointed to heat, but there was none. Maybe the pilot light had blown out, or at least that's what she hoped because that's a minor fix. She quickly took a hot shower and got ready to go to shopping and grab some lunch, but first she needed to call Mike and let him know about the heater.
*****
Sam's grocery looked like a little mom-and-pop place. The parking lot had only twenty parking slots. On the far right side, close to the parking lot were two gas pumps. As she pulled in she looked over at them and noticed the top of one of the pumps said Ethel. It was barely legible because of all the muck in the glass window. You just don't see an old-time pump like that anymore. She giggled to herself while wondering how much those old pumps would sell on Ebay. Two men stood outside the door fussing about something. They waved to her when she drove into the parking slot. As she walked past the men, she said, "Hi.” They stopped their talking as she walked past, but didn't speak to her. People up north were not friendly at all, including Mike.
As she walked into the grocery, a clerk was sweeping up a bag of sugar that had burst on the floor. An overweight lady who sat at the cash register gave her opinion on everything the clerk was doing wrong, but didn't offer any assistance. Maybe she did help a little—she pointed to the dust pan.
Lana noticed there wasn't much of a food selection. She grabbed a few canned goods and some lunch meat at the deli. There wasn't a large selection of fresh vegetables, so she selected a few that looked okay. Later she would go to a bigger grocery store to grab some more wholesome veggies. They did have a meat department with fresh meat. She bought some steak, bacon and chicken. The steak would be for the last night. She made sure she had enough steak for Mike, just in case. She also grabbed two large potatoes for baking.
The drive home was as beautiful as the drive last night. She took her time and enjoyed the scenery. The morning fog had lifted, and she could see the ocean better. The view looked amazing. She could see for miles in all directions. There's an endless view of lighthouses on their own little peninsulas. In the distance, there were all sorts of ships, yachts, and sailboats. To her surprise and delight, she saw the sailboat Maltese Falcon. What a treat—she couldn't believe her luck. For years, she had seen pictures of this beauty, and now she had the privilege of seeing it in person. She giggled at herself and decided she now liked the beach.
She turned on Shadow Lane. All four of the houses on the cul-de-sac were on the beach side, facing the woods. Mike's house sat at the end facing the road. The houses were cookie-cutter homes with small front porches and large back porches with a beautiful view of the ocean. Gray seemed to be the going exterior color, and all of them were trimmed in white. None of the houses had garages, but they all had designated parking slots made of gravel. Each driveway had enough space for two vehicles.
Azalea bushes were the only greenery that surrounded the houses other than some dune grass splattered around the sand. Lana didn't mind the lack of grass because the beaches shouldn't look like the suburbs.
Driving into her designated slot, she noticed Mike's truck and wondered how long he had been working. She hoped not long. Deep down she knew if he had just arrived she would get to spend more time with him. She hooked all the plastic bags on her arms and toted them into the house. She eagerly looked forward to seeing him. To her surprise he didn't greet her at the door.
After a few loud noises, she realized he was in the attic, busy working on the furnace.
She noticed the fire had caught hold, so she tossed in a couple of logs. Once the room warmed up she took off her jacket to tackle the salad. But first, she took a swig of chamomile tea. She bought several kinds, but that was her favorite. She loved to try many different kinds of tea. Many people love wine tasting, but Lana preferred tea. Sometimes she mixed her own concoctions: lemon rind, honey, milk, and fresh or frozen fruit. Consummating the flavors is what she called it.
The stairs squeaked with heaviness as Mike stomped down them. He mumbled and cussed
about the heater under his breath. He walked in with a dirty face and grungy hands carrying a section of round metal tube.
With one eyebrow cocked, he said, "It's the starter to the furnace, and I'll have to replace it."
He glanced over, noticed the fire and commented on it. "Wow, you started a fire; not too many women can do that—I'm impressed." He wanted to start a conversation with her, and the fire was the first thought that popped into his mind.
"Well I guess I'm not a typical woman, and I guess I've been single for so long I only have myself to depend on," she answered without glancing into his eyes. She didn't know what it was about his baby blues, but it sure was difficult to look into them. She took a deep breath and added, "Besides, if you get cold enough you can get a rip-roaring fire started—it's called survival." Wow, she just couldn't get over how pretty his eyes were, and he even had dimples when he smiled. Her stomach fluttered, and her heart skipped beats under his constant gaze. It's a good thing she didn't make a living predicting what people looked like; in Mike's case, she would go hungry. He looked opposite of her initial description.
Taking his time, he gathered up the part and headed for the door. Under normal
circumstances, he would find an excuse to stay or start a conversation. His mind went blank. He couldn't talk to her about the part, she might be bored. Maybe he could talk to her about her trip, but that seemed desperate. He could revert to college days and ask her about her sign. He laughed to himself about how stupid that was back then… and it's still stupid. Then his eureka moment happened. He would ask her to lunch, that's what he'd ask her. He stopped dead in his tracks.
With her mind still dwelling on his baby blues, she was trying to decide if she should invite him to lunch. Boom! She ran right smack into his back and tumbled to the ground. When she slammed into him, she felt as though she had run into a brick wall.
He quickly turned around and grabbed for her and almost slipped and fell himself.
They both laughed hysterically, and then he lent a hand to help her stand. "Are you all right?"
"I only have a bruised ego and maybe a bruised bottom. I didn't expect you to stop so quickly," she said as she rubbed her butt. Their laugh broke the ice. She noticed he held her hand just a few seconds longer than he had to, and she let him.
"It's lunch time, and since I knocked you down, the least I can do is buy you lunch. That is if you want to come with me. Do you?"
She could tell he hoped she would join him. He acted like a school boy asking the cute girl to the homecoming, shuffling his feet and waiting for an answer. He looked tall standing there, anticipating a response. She wondered if she should make him wait for an answer, watch him squirm. No, that would be too mean. "I have a better idea; I have everything for a chef salad.
How about you join me?"
"I would love to join you, but only if one day this week you allow me to drive you around and show you our historic town," he said without thinking about it. He was anxious to get to know this woman. In the back of his mind, all he could think about was how soft her hand felt.
"Sure." She guessed they had a date. For the past six years, since her divorce, she had decided not to date, or at least not much. Her friends had introduced her to a few men, but they never connected emotionally. Because of her horrible marriage, she didn't want to get seriously involved with anyone. Right now, she was happy with her life. She had a terrific family, children, friends, and work. James always wanted her to meet someone worthy of her love. He joked around with her and told her that whoever she dated had to pass his approval. She wondered if he would like Mike. That was an answer she would never know. Yet, somehow she knew James would approve. Yep, she relished the idea of spending the day with this handsome man.
She got the vegetables and spread them on the bar. "Tell me what kind of veggies you want or don't want in the salad."
He looked them and began to separate them. He placed the lettuce to the right, cheese to the right, salad peppers to the right, smoked turkey to the right, onions to the left, mushrooms to the right, and finally bacon bits to the right. "I want everything to the right in the salad and everything else, nil."
"You don't like onions?" She loved onions.
"I love them, but you never know—I might have to kiss someone today."
Panic ran through her body. Was he hinting that he had a girlfriend? "Okay, no onions!"
Surprisingly, Mike helped immensely in the kitchen, and that impressed her. He got out the dishes and set the table then put the few dishes away that were in the dishwasher. He noticed there were no paper towels, so he ran out to his truck and brought a roll in to put on the rack.
When they sat down to eat, she tried to make small talk. "How long have you owned this beach house? I would love to come to the beach every day."
He stopped eating and looked around the house, reminiscing. "My wife and I lived here for years, but she passed away several years ago. I couldn't stay here without her, but I couldn't sell the house either. So I decided to put it on the market to rent out and let others enjoy it. Anyway, to answer your question, I've owned this house over twenty years." It had been a long time since he had mentioned his wife out loud.
She could tell he had deeply loved her. Later she would ask him about the details—when they felt more comfortable with each other. She didn't want to tell him about her own sorrowful dilemmas because it was too early in their relationship to talk about intimate feelings of grief.
After an hour of talking, she finally stood up and so did Mike. He picked up his plate and stacked her on top. She got the two glasses and the walnut raspberry salad dressing. He helped clean the kitchen, and she thought maybe he was trying to find an excuse to stay. All she could think about was how much her heart raced every time he walked near her. She wondered if he felt the same way; she desperately hoped he did.
With everything cleaned and the small talk over, Mike put on his coat to go to town. He politely asked her again, "Do you want to change your mind about heading to town with me?"
"I have been here almost twenty-four hours, and I still haven't run my toes through the sand."
He laughed and shook his head in agreement.
She walked him to the door and noticed she didn't even reach the top his shoulders. Not only was he tall, but his shoulders were broad—close to three feet wide. She found herself wanting to touch him, but refrained. She noticed he lingered, and she hoped that he didn't want to leave either. Mike if you turn around and take me in your arms and kiss me, I will go to town with you.
He winked at her and walked out the door. "I'll see you in a little while."
"If I'm not in the house I will be on the beach."
"Enjoy."
She smiled and took a deep breath as she watched him drive away.
*****
Excitement filled her heart as she stood next to the fire to get warm. She tried to get the adrenaline pumping to help with the cold. An exhilarating walk on the beach excited so much that she couldn't stand still. She grabbed an old Indian designed blanket to fight against the bitter cold. Earlier in the day, she had noticed a striped lounge chair on the beach and decided it would be perfect for her to sit and enjoy the view. She fixed a mug of hot raspberry tea, added some honey, and grabbed her cozy blanket to walk the short distance.
The sky looked overcast, but the deep blue ocean was a lovely sight. The fierceness of the winds seemed to ask the water questions, and the waves answered with rambunctiousness as they rolled in and smacked the beach with full force. Then the salt water rolled out leaving lines of white foam reaching for her toes. She just stood there in awe. Then she wondered how many people stood in this very spot over the last three hundred years looking at the same scene.
All around her were small sand dunes. Some still had a few discolored weeds sticking out.
She noticed old driftwood lying around the beach, far from the shoreline. Some boards were pointed, and some were gray, but all of them were aged with many holes. She imagined it was wood from ships that were lost at sea, and at one time those ships carried treasures. The wood wanted to be found, to tell its story.
In the far distance, one could see the hungry sea gulls sweep down to the beach to grab their fish dinner. It was easy pickings for the gulls since most of their competition had gone south for the winter. The fish must have been swept in by the roiling waters and landed on the beach.
That's Mother Nature's way of offering a meal to the birds, survival of the fittest at work.
Her imagination led her to visualize families sitting under beach umbrellas as they watched their children building sandcastles, throwing Frisbees and playing ball. Young couples took long strolling walks along the beach and snatched a kiss every so often. She pondered the many people who had viewed the ocean for the first time in their lives, absorbing the feeling of euphoria as they looked at the vastness of the Atlantic. She took a deep breath just like they might have, remembering this incredible sight, storing it to memory.
She cleaned off the chair and made herself at home, lying back. Then she took a sip of her now warm tea. She watched the old lighthouse turning its light, just like turning the pages in a book. This was one story she would have loved to read.
The Gurnet lighthouse was built over two hundred years ago. She wondered if it's the oldest lighthouse in Plymouth. Most lighthouses were currently run by the coast guard, but years ago they hired caretakers. She wondered how many caretakers this lighthouse had seen, how many ships of immigrants it guided, how many families got excited when they saw the light and knew they would have a new start in America?
Contentedly, she thought this was the life, sitting and listening to the waves, watching the gulls, and looking at the lighthouse. This trip certainly brought her heart happiness. Meeting Mike just added pleasure to her soul. She never thought in a million years that she would have met such a terrific guy on vacation. That only happened in the movies, and she liked being in this movie.
After several weeks of dwelling on her sorrows and how she had been emotionally drained, she now found comfort in her surroundings. It was astonishing how a death could change your feeling of well-being. She had felt somewhat scattered and sad the past several weeks. Today was the first day she hadn't felt that sadness overtaking her life. It wasn't the focal point any more. When family told her that she needed a change of scenery to mend a broken heart, they were right. A smile crossed her face as she snuggled in the blanket and drifted off to sleep.