The day broke with ease, the sun slow dancing up behind Binevenagh mountain. A grey squirrel crossed the road in front of Ronnie, its bushy tail held high. She pressed on the brake to give the creature more time. When it hopped over the stone wall on the other side, Ronnie didn't speed up again. Dropping into fourth gear she noticed a clump of cattle huddled together in a field corner and a few new builds along the road, wondering who owned them.
"Oh shit." Ronnie pulled on the wheel, just about making the turnoff into Benone. There was an abandoned surfboard lying by the trees as she drove towards the beach. The sand growing thicker on the tarmac until it wasn't like a road at all.
Mussenden Temple was perched on the height, Portstewart lined across the way. The waves stretched trying to catch Ronnie's toes as she walked along the sea's edge on the dampened grains of sand. It made her feel wanted. The water was icy, painful at first, but soon, it began to wither.
Ronnie looked at her watch. 10:13am. Her mind filled with sombre footsteps orchestrated by black, shiny shoes on tar. A stream of people walking behind Kyle on his way to the chapel. Everyone blinded by tears. Their cries hunting the heavens. A cramping ache rippled through Ronnie. She turned to the horizon. The tide was away, the water calm and enticing. She pulled her black beach dress up and over her head, dropping it upon the sand. The wild water hugged Ronnie's body promising all sorts of things with each step she took. Ronnie stopped before it reached her breasts, trying to climatise herself. She shuddered and dipped down a little. The cold pushed her up again. She bobbed about, trying to get warm. Closing her eyes, Ronnie took a breath, and plummeted under.
YOU ARE READING
Meant To Be
General FictionRonnie and Zac had love all figured out until life got in the way, and when their paths cross in Tennessee, survival is the only thing on their minds. Paediatrician Ronnie Gormley told her husband they would have children when they turn thirty. No...
