Above Us Only Sky (Paul McCartney/Beatles Fan Fiction)

Chapter 20 - Good Craic

By the time Marisol drove across the legendary orange bridge from Marin County onto the San Francisco peninsula, the rain had been replaced by a beautiful rolling fog settling over the white city on the bay. She veered onto the coast highway, away from the city, the ocean on the right looming vast and black like the edge of the world.

"You do realize when you choose a life partner, you're choosing a lot of things," Donna said, turning down the Beach Boys' latest radio hit so Marisol could hear more crucial tidbits of bridesmaid wisdom.

"Right...like someone who will deeply influence my children."

"Well, that. And you're choosing your eating companion for 20,000 meals."

"Hmmm. Food for thought."

Marisol flashed the high beams on, then off again. High or low beams in fog? You'd think she'd remember by now, always managing to live in the foggiest of places on the planet.

"20,000 meals," Donna repeated, tutting.

Barely listening, Marisol made a noncommittal sound. On her last day as a single woman, she'd been up since dawn making last-minute wedding arrangements and delegating tasks. Last-minute phone calls to the caterer, the local florist, and a team of movers charged with relocating the Steinway grand piano from the conservatory to the barn. The horses were moved into a nearby pasture, the winery was fitted with chairs and tables and a makeshift dance floor, and in the main house, the guest rooms were made up for relatives coming in for the wedding. Uncles, aunts, a few cousins, and most importantly, Grandma Hadley had flown in from Florida.

"And someone whose day you'll hear about 18,000 times," Donna continued. "So you need to be sure."

Marisol hummed a response. All day she'd thought constantly of Paul, buzzing at the idea that he was at that moment winging his way to her. Suddenly she couldn't wait to see him. Her whole body tingled at the knowledge that he was even now waiting for her at their favorite love nest on the coast, only seconds away.

She turned left, leaving the ocean, and the sky blue art deco building came into view. An orange neon sign with the words OCEAN VIEW MOTEL cast a hazy glow over the windshield as she pulled into the parking lot, gravel and seashells crunching loudly beneath the tires.

Built in the same year as the Golden Gate Bridge, with all the retro charm of the 1930's, the motel had a unique deco/nautical decor, with porthole windows, cruise-ship railings, and ship steering wheels on the doors. This quiet little motel had captured their hearts when they stayed together here on Paul's first visit. Sentimental fool that he was, Paul had booked this same little gem of a room for their wedding night. Room 16. Second floor at the back, away from the street noise but with a porthole window that opened onto ocean breezes. On that night nearly three years ago, they'd fallen asleep to the deep pitch of a foghorn, sounding through the foggy night to keep ships from crashing into the bridge as they steered from the bay into the ocean beyond.

Marisol's hands shook as she pulled into a parking space and killed the engine. She couldn't seem to get to Paul fast enough. What was it Grandma Hadley had said today when Uncle Patrick had commented on how Marisol was running around like a blue-arsed fly?

"When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."

"The same penis forever. Six times, maybe more." Donna muttered under her breath. "Depending on how many kids you want."

"Shut it! You're killing me." But Marisol couldn't help giggling as she pocketed the car keys. "The room is back this way, just through the garden. You'll get to meet Paul's brother, and probably big Mal."