July 13, 2020 … actually a nice day out here in the NW!
For whomever might be waiting for this … here is Part II of my attempt at a Romance Novel. Originally written in April 1993 … when days were so much simpler!
*****
Romance Novel … Part II
Suddenly the impact of his words hit her heart. Her body became numb as her thoughts and his words swirled in her head … no proposal … leaving … France … good-bye. Was this really good-bye? Emily remembered little of leaving the restaurant or the drive home. Matthew walked her to the door, kissed her lightly on the cheek, said a few words of parting–that she would never remember … and was gone.
Gone!
She entered the dimly lit foyer of the old house and realized that Grandfather was not yet home. How she could have used his wisdom and comfort. Tonight was his night to go visit Mr. Ferguson and play checkers. Emily always got a chuckle from the moniker that her grandfather had given him as Mr. Ferguson was only a few years older. “Old man Ferguson” would intentionally lose, Emily was sure, just so Grandfather would keep going to see him. Grandfather always came home happy on checker night.
With that thought Emily renewed her scanning for shore–she knew Grandfather would be worried if she came home later but the fog was still thick and she couldn’t see any sign of land. The boat gently rocked and glided effortlessly along the current … out to sea.
The woman on the rocks was holding a tin lantern. Emily watched it sway in the wind–back and forth, back and forth. The woman, who looked oddly familiar, was shouting something to Emily but her words were lost to the wind. Emily was almost sure the woman was calling her name.
Emily woke with a start–her little boat was rocking along with the waves and somehow, she had been lulled to sleep. The wind has picked up and the salty water sprayed in her face and dampened her dress. The fog was still thick and she had no way of knowing where she was … or how far or how close she was to land. She realized she must have been dreaming but the image of the woman haunted her. Why had she looked so familiar? And why had it seemed like she was calling Emily’s name?
*****
Emily left the house and walked down the hill to the beach and strolled along absent-mindedly until she came to the pier. She walked along its weathered wooden structure – out to the end – where the boat was tethered. She left her silk heels at the end of the dock and untied the boat–thinking she’d just row out a bit and catch the last of the sunset and think about what had just transpired. She stepped into it and oared out.
It had been a warm day, unusual for these parts, and the sun was getting lower in the sky. The Pacific breezes wafted over her and soothed her soul. She realized she should have changed her clothes but she wasn’t thinking logically. She tried to push Matthew from her thoughts but his words burned at her brain … “France. Paris. Good-bye.” She was looking out towards the end of the point when suddenly it appeared – the light in the old, abandoned lighthouse. It flickered against the water. Had she imagined it? Was it a reflection of the setting sun on the waves? She rowed toward the cape staying clear of the inlet rocks were the currents were strong. She went around a sea stack to get a better view and decided to go out a bit farther into the cove to get away from the rocks lest she crash into them. She turned around just in time to see the light flicker again against the waters. She wasn’t imagining–someone was in the lighthouse. But who?
She was so fascinated with the light that she hadn’t noticed the fog creeping in until she was completely enveloped. She had forgotten the ultimate rule of the sea–never turn your back on it. She had and she sat regretting her poor judgement.
*****
The wind had picked up and Emily’s small craft was now being tossed about like a cork on the sea. Trying to quell panic, she held tightly to the boat’s sides. She didn’t have time to wonder if she would be thrown overboard or go down with her vessel when with a sickening force the boat crashed onto some rocks and splintered into pieces. Emily somehow grabbed onto a rock and clung to its wet and slippery side–hanging on and groping around the slimy seaweed for a good hold. She gasped for air and took in a mouthful of salt water. Her mind reeled … Grandfather–I can’t be another loss to him!
The waves were pushing her into the rocks and somehow she found a fingerhold and worked her way up the side of the rock and up and out of the surge of the surf. It was a large outcropping and rather flat where she was–she was fortunate, she knew. The area was covered with spiny barnacles that cut into her feet and hands and ripped her dress. But she was safe. She knew the tide was going out and by the time it would be coming in someone surely would have seen her. She sat, huddled in the wind–thirsty, cold and frightened and so thankful to be alive. Yet she wondered when the fog would lift and how long she might be stranded on that rock.
It was dark now and Emily sat shivering on the cold, small haven in the ocean. She laughed into the darkness and the sound of her voice startled her, “How could I be so foolish? I know better than this! I know so much better than this!” She wondered what time it was and tried to judge but she could see neither moon nor stars. At least the winds seemed to be blowing away the fog. She burrowed her face into her arms and curled up into a ball–her head tucked into her chest, her back to the wind. She felt like a half-drowned mermaid. She called out, “Hey … HELP!” but her words were lost to the wind scarcely after leaving her lips.
Emily envisioned the local newspaper headlines to read: Witless woman found on rock at sea. Or LOST at Sea! Or better yet … Died of Exposure. She couldn’t bear dying – not only for herself but what would Grandfather do? She had been stupidly irresponsible and he did not deserve such heartache from her mistake. Her mind drifted to Matthew again and realized that she wasn’t as shocked – or even upset – as she thought she should have been. Predictable Matthew had surprised her after all. Maybe he was right in ending things. What had she been thinking–a proposal? What did she really know about him? It had been quite an evening and not at all how she had thought it would end up – lest with her relationship and life, literally, on the rocks.
Emily tried to keep her mind off of where she was and how cold and frightened she was. She turned her thoughts to her newest endeavor. She had recently signed the rental papers on a small store front on Main Street. She needed to paint and decorate the space and get her name out to the community but she was so very excited about it. She was tired of working for someone else and for years she had fought the urge to do something on her own … until one day Grandfather asked, as only grandfathers can do, ‘What she was waiting for–an invitation?’ So, the next day she started looking for the right space and out of pure luck she had come out of the coffee shop and practically bumped into the owner putting a FOR RENT sign in the window of the next building.
It had been that easy. It was a cute, little place with a high, tin-paneled ceiling, two long interior walls– perfect for mirrors on one side and a ballet barre on the other. The two front windows brought in plenty of light. There were two smaller rooms in the back – one could be for changing and storage and one for her office. There was also a washroom. It was perfect and she signed the papers before she could even think twice about it. She had so many ideas for it! She would open a dance studio and share with the people of Otter Cove the joy of dance.
Emily lifted her head as she sensed the wind dying down. She was above the water level and was no longer worried about waves but did not want to move about as the barnacles were too sharp. She was adjusting herself on the spiny bits when a light appeared – it was again from the lighthouse. She realized the fog was much thinner as the light cut through it with an eerie glow. It seemed much closer than she thought she would be in relation to the lighthouse peninsula. The fog had disoriented her and the crashing sea and the cold had numbed every part of her–her toes, especially, so she massaged them – realizing then that her feet were cut. She dared not get up and walk about as the rock was too slippery and too spiny. She shouted out to the sea, “I’m sorry!” By now Grandfather would surely be back home from his checkers game and seeing the note on the table, assume that she was still out with Matthew–having a wonderful time.
Emily began shouting, “Help! Someone … help me!” … all the while wondering where she was exactly and if anyone would find her before the tide came back in.
****
Clayton Williams pushed his drawing away. He was seated at his drafting table and sat staring out the windows. He loved his new job and new digs. Keeper of the old lighthouse. Who would have ever thought that he would be doing this? He was watching the evening sea and the sunset when he thought he saw a figure in a boat rounding the sea stack. He jumped off his stool and raced to his telescope and aimed it in the direction of the boat. Yes! There was someone–a female someone–alone in a small craft. Clayton watched, as if in slow motion, as the fog drifted in and engulfed the boat and its passenger.
He knew what he had to do.
*****
And, folks, that–as is said–is all she wrote!