Old Brown Eyes

Beyond the Sea

It was a cold, windy day. I stood on gray beach, watching a gray ocean hurl its white capped waves again and again several feet away from my own leather boot clad toes. It was definitely not a day for the beach, but I had begged Rich to bring me here since it had been years since I had seen the ocean.

To my right stood the famous Cape May lighthouse, a tall sentinel that had stood for over a century on this shore. Behind me, and for many miles on either side stretched sand dunes with long dead golden sea grass waving in the wind. There wasn't a single soul on the beach except for me. I snapped several pictures before stuffing the disposable plastic camera into my pocket and continuing my vigil.

As I stood there staring out to sea, the salty wind briskly whipping my hair about my face, I thought about the past twenty-four hours and the whirlwind that had brought me here.

***

Earlier that morning I had awakened to find myself alone. I silently thanked my lucky stars as I push the covers back and hurried across the hall into the bathroom I had used the night before. I hastily brushed my hair, pulling it up into a ponytail, then brushed my teeth. I still looked a little worse for the wear, so I applied some light makeup before getting dressed. I put on a pair of black leggings, a red, long sleeved UGA t-shirt and my sweater boots.

I could hear the TV on downstairs and as I exited the bathroom, I saw the office was empty, so I made my careful way down the staircase. Halfway down the landing the kitchen came in to view and I could see Rich at the stove, the heavenly smell of coffee and frying bacon tickling my nose. He was busily scrambling some eggs in a bowl but he must have heard me because he looked over his shoulder and gave me the most charming heart stopping smile, his brown eyes gleaming.

"Morning, you little grit," he greeted me happily.

I grinned at the new endearment. "Morning, yourself," I murmured, coming into the kitchen. "So, what's on the agenda for today?" I glanced at the piles of merchandise on the wood and tile table in the dining room which adjoined the kitchen. Obviously Rich used it as his work room.

He saw my look and reassured me. "It's a slow time of year for me. I actually don't have any orders today and I gave Margie the day off." He looked at me meaningfully. "I want to spend the whole day with you and have you all to myself."

I could feel myself blushing again. "Oh, you do, do you?" I approached him and noted that he let go of the whisk, letting it lean against the edge of the bowl as I got closer. I placed both hands on his shoulders and leaned down to put my eyes on a level with his. "That's very sweet," I whispered.

"Hadley," he murmured. "You little tease. You better..." I giggled at his sharp intake of breath as I leaned forward and gently nibbled his earlobe.

Rich put both hands on my waist and gently pushed me away. "Breakfast first, little grit," he said firmly. Then he shook his head, his eyes on me as he took up the whisk again. "Oh, you little minx, what you do to me."

I giggled and draped an arm around him. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"If you wouldn't mind, reach up there into that cabinet and grab a couple of plates. The silverware is over there in that drawer. Do you like cheese in your eggs?"

"I love cheese in my eggs!"

We ate our breakfast right there in the kitchen at the counter, talking and laughing and telling jokes about everything and everyone we knew. Rich had such hilarious anecdotes, particularly concerning certain members of the SFF who would probably be mortified if they knew half the things Rich was telling me about them.

"When I get a little stronger," Rich said, taking our empty plates over to the kitchen sink, "I want to take you to a show in Atlantic city. You would love Atlantic City. Charming, seedy little place. It's where I grew up basically."