Incoming waves stretched toward the shoreline widely overlapping those receding
back into the sea. It seemed more
violent than usual but considering my present state of mind, I pondered the
likelihood that it just might be transference of the contention within me. Dark clouds etched in at the horizon and defined
the exact point where the water met the sky, and radiated a beryl tinge in both
directions. The melting sun was
conceding to its fate of being inexorably drawn into the dark and ominously
impending squall. A cool wind began to
blow in from the same direction and I pulled the corners of the blanket I was
sitting on up around my shoulders.
“Nothin’ more beautiful er disturbin’ than a storm comin’ over tha seas.”
I jumped at the sound of another
voice. I had been sitting here for hours
without seeing another creature with the exception of an occasional sea bird or
crab. He chuckled at my startled
appearance and took a deep draw on his cigarette and smoke curled about his
gray bearded weathered face as a cold gust blew against us.
“Ya been starin out there a long time, are ya findin’ any answers?”
Astonished at his presence, I glanced past him and scanned my
surroundings. I had walked for two long
hours to find an isolated place on the beach assuring my solitude. Careful scrutiny of the terrain ensured there
was nothing or no one for as far as the eye could see, no cottages, no
tourists, nothing at all but beach, birds and myself. Again he chuckled to himself and I found it difficult
to hide my annoyance. He took a final
drag on the cigarette and removed it from his mouth, and with a doting glance,
tossed it into the sand and buried it with his toe.
“Damn things ‘ill kill ya. Not in
the habit are ya?”
Hesitating to answer, I finally replied to his query. “No”.
Emotions at his presence were a mix of irritation at the disturbance and
relief from my own melancholy. “Where on
earth did you come from?” This time his
chuckle turned into an outright laugh and I felt my face begin to burn.
“So, ya thought ya were all alone here, did ya? I been watchin’ ya for a long time but storms
come up pretty quick ‘round here and I didn’t think ya would be able to get
back tonight in this storm so I come out to check on ya. Gather yer stuff up there and come with me.”
I glared at him offended by the unbelievable gall, defiantly shook my
head and turned my back on him and returning my attentions back out into the sea. A little rain would not melt me. “I’m afraid I would not be good company,” I
said without turning around. No reply
came back. Refusing to be drug into an
argument, I stared out at the waves. Even
as they agitated the seabed and slammed against the shoreline, they brought on
me a sense of calm. I hated being rude
but I needed this time alone and wet or dry, I intended on staying put. Finally, hearing a clatter in the distance, I
again turned to watch him leave, hoping to discover where he came from.
“HEY!” I jumped to my feet and ran
after him. “Put down that bag!” I shouted.
Now it was he who didn’t look back and continued his pace as he
proceeded on his trek to an undisclosed destination. He was tall and thin and his stride was long
and quick and unimpeded by his age. I
had to run quite a distance before I could catch up with him. “You crazy old coot!” I gasped between gulps of air, “Give me back
my bag!”
He stopped dead in his tracks and stared straight ahead. When he turned my direction, something in his
face seemed to reflect the menacing skies.
He rubbed his hand over his beard and pressed his crusty lips into a
thin straight line of determination.
Narrowing his eyes at the darkening horizon, he tightened his grip on my
duffel bag, turned on his heel and continued his journey.
With the slightest tilt of his head in my direction, he said “When yer a
safe distance from the tow that’s sure to come, I’ll give ya back yer bag. Ya
kin sit out on the porch in tha rain if ya like, ya don’t hafta come
inside. I can’t jes leave ya here to be
sucked up by the sea.”
I stood there in shocked amazement.
This antiquated benevolent fool had taken it upon himself to force an
unsolicited guardianship upon my person and had confiscated my belongings, like
I was a willful child intent on self-destruction. I resisted the urge to stamp my feet but
given no viable alternative, I hurriedly pursued my benefactor.
“Look,” I gasped as we loped along, “I am sorry I lost my temper,” I pleaded
in my most patronizing tone. “I am
certain you have my best interest at heart but I am not a child and I don’t
appreciate your condescending attitude. I
am a grown woman and perfectly capable of handling myself in an emergency
situation. Please return my belongings
and I will be on my way. If I was
trespassing I apologize. I didn’t
realize that this was private property and I didn’t think anyone resided in
this part of the beach.”
As I breathlessly pleaded my case to his backside, he ambled up what
looked to be a very long and steep sand dune.
The top was covered in sea oats that now swayed in the gusts of wind
coming off the ocean. The sun could no
longer be seen above the clouds and lightening began to streak across the
ever-darkening sky. There was a chill in
the wind that cut to the bone and I would have liked my jacket out of my duffel
bag but considering the circumstances, my pride would not allow me to make a request
of further care. A couple of sea gulls
cried out as they flew by struggling against the wind.
Large drops of water began to fall out of the
glowering skies, making great splotchy discolorations in the sand. Then suddenly, the rain came down in
torrents. As we crested the peak of the
sand levee, the old man turned and grinned.
“Turn ya around there and see where ya was sittin. Ya would be swimmin’ by now then wouldn’t ya?
Nobody owns the beach mah lassy. It
belongs to the sea and she lays her claim on it, as she will. As long as ya know that, then ya can get on
with her just fine.”
I stood gaping, in awe of the speed in which the water had taken over the
entirety of the beach. “Well, it appears
I am not as self-reliant as I supposed myself to be,” I relented.
“When she tells ya to go home, she’s no lady about it”, he chuckled
softly. “Looks like she is a bit angry
at your tarrying about. But she rarely
crosses my levee as we have an understanding .she and I, so you just c’mon back
and stay a while until she gets it outa her system and then ya can have a walk
back tomorrow.”
He turned and went down the hill as deftly as he ascended. I followed slipping and sliding and hoping
not to tumble into him. As we cleared the
sea oats, I saw a cabin sitting in isolation from anyone or anything.
Out on the porch was an old large dog tied to one of the posts. He seemed resigned to his confinement and
barely raised his head as we approached.
I couldn’t help but wonder if he found this poor dog playing mindlessly
along the beach and took him under the same circumstance as he taken had
me.
He glanced back at me like he had
heard my thoughts. “I can’t let him
loose in the storm. He likes ta go
fishin’ and will be swallowed in the waves today. He won’t listen to me either,” he grinned. He scratched the old dog on his head and
patted his side. The dog thumped his
tail a couple of times against the porch.
“Will he be alright out in this?” I
asked.
“Aye” he said, “He doesn’t like it inside much. Doesn’t want to miss anythin’ and nothin’
goes on in here.” The icy wind whipped
around between the sand dune and the house, cutting through my blouse. I shivered and the old man opened the door.
“Come in, Lassie. It is dry and warm
inside and I can fix ya a bit of tea and a give ya a biscuit. It’ll take the chill right out o’ ya.” At my hesitation, he began that incessant
chuckle of his. “Is it this old man yer
afeared of? Ya need not worry about yer
safety, ma’am. I am not gonna hurt
ya.” For the first time, he broke into
a smile and his blue eyes actually twinkled with warmth and good humor. He continued to stand and hold the door until
I felt obligated to relieve him of his post and walked in. “Make yerself ta home, Lassie. Morning will be here before ya know it.” He walked over to a small black stove and
started loading it with wood. I have
some clean shirts and britches in the closet, ya can change outa yer wet
clothes over there behind the blanket.
The walls inside were bare knotted pine and the floor was peg board. All that decorated the walls were utility
necessities, to be accessed easily. It
wasn’t pretty but it was clean and organized and smelled of a mix of tobacco
and fresh cut wood. The furniture was rustic
and homemade. Still shivering, I looked
over past the chest of drawers to an old wardrobe made of rough sawn cedar and
opened the doors. Looking through the
neatly folded stack of clothing, I was struck by the strong smell of cedar wood
that emanated from inside the cabinet.
“Hold it right there, Lassie,” he said flatly.
I was so engrossed in my surroundings; I had not heard him cross the room
and jumped at the nearness of his voice.
Then a small metallic click caused me to look back and there he stood
with a large buck knife pointed in my direction. My throat tightened and I froze in place,
having no where to run. He seemed to
look past me and I wondered if he did he ever look right at the person before
the knife entered their flesh. He
reached up and grabbed a roll of rope above my head. Panic pulsed through me as I imagined what
would occur if he were to tie me up. He
stopped what he was doing and looked intently at me as if he were measuring me
and carefully cut a piece of rope with his knife as I watched in alarm. At the sound of his voice, I jolted.
“If ya thread this through the loops on the britches, you’ll keep yer
drawers up on yer.” Trembling, I nodded
and took the rope from his gnarled hands.
“Hurry and get outta them wet clothes.
Yer tea is all but ready.”
Walking around the other side of the blanket that served as a makeshift
curtain and the divider between the wash room and the rest of the house, I sat heavily
down on a cane chair and closed my eyes.
My body began to tremble out of control until it shook violently and my
breath came out in deep heaving sobs.
The sting of the morning’s activities had finally overcome me. I sat in calm determination as I signed each
of the papers handed to me. I watched
passively as he picked up the pen after me and placed his signature below
mine. I remained placid as the judge pronounced
I was no longer married to the man I had promised to love for the rest of my
life. In the presence of my friends and
associates I was demure and composed. I
had not cried in the lawyer’s office when I filed for divorce. I had not cried from the first realization
that I was no longer the only one to whom he would cleave. I did not cry when I saw him with her in his
arms, in my safe place, in my home, in my robe, in my life. It was done and couldn’t be changed. This very morning he gave me back my name and
my life that I had given to him and I didn’t cry. He never saw me cry one single time. He would never see me cry.
But now, six months of stored tears, a heart broken beyond repair and
frightened beyond logic, I lost all control and all the walls that protected my
heart gave way. It was like the storm
outside had taken me over, had come from within me, releasing all the fury of
my soul, tearing up the shoreline and blowing down everything, flooding the
whole world with unshed tears.
When the torrents had dwindled to whimpers, unaware of my surroundings,
he again startled me by appearing around the curtain with a cup of hot
tea. Still shivering and wet, I took the
warm cup from his gnarled brown fingers.
“Oh Lassie, poor lassie,” he said to soothe me. “Tha’s a slight wisp of a girl to carry heavy
burdens.” He reached up, took the curtain off the wall, and wrapped it about my
wet clothes and me. “Drink your tea and
calm your nerves a bit. The most violent
storms e’er I saw were those that came from a burdened heart. Our Lady of the sea knows the heart of all
that sit upon her shoreline. She will
blow over quickly now that she has gotten it out of you. It was good yer comin’ here, for to come to
here is to find an end of the pain. It
is why sailors never come home. She can
bind it up and take it away from ya and it releases ya from sadness and pain
for as long as ya can stay with her.
Come over here and sit by the stove.
It is warm now. Drink yer
tea. I put a bit of whiskey in it ta
help ya sleep.”
He helped me out of the chair and propelled me forward balancing me and
the cup of tea. There in front of the
stove was an old rocker. It was out of
place in the room full of crudely home-crafted furniture. The arms were ornately carved and the
cushions were covered in worn brocade.
It creaked as I sat down and I as I leaned my head back it rocked
slightly backward. The warmth from the
stove began to penetrate the blanket and I felt my head begin to throb. Somewhere in a fog, I heard the whimpering of
a dog and through swollen bleary eyes, I saw the old dog from the porch. He stood beside me as if protecting me from
further anxiety. After a bit he moved
closer to me and rested his head on my leg.
The old man looked intently at his old dog sitting so close and
chuckled. “Well there Salty, I haven’t
seen that in a while now have I? He’s
taken ta ya there, Lassie. Ole Salty, He
don’ take kindly ta strangers.”
Everything seemed surreal and as I tried to attach the voice to a person,
the old man shoved the tea in my hand and commanded me to drink. I lifted the mug to my lips and sipped at the
warm liquid. It was strong and bitter
with a pleasant glow from the whiskey and I began to feel my head swim as I
swallowed the last of the contents.
Again I leaned my head against the back of the chair and felt it rock
back slightly and closed my eyes. Then,
I felt no more.
At some point in the night, I awoke to the realization that I was not in
my own bed. The only light in the room
was the full moon peaking through the clouds and I used the shadowed reflection
to try and make out an object that might look familiar enough to give me a
indication of where I might be. The
gilded clouds wafted luxuriously over the luminous ivory orb smiling into my
window as stars twinkled through exposed patches of cloudless sky. I listened
for a familiar sound to quell the uneasy feeling of not knowing where I was and
heard the distinct sound of waves.
I sat up and felt around on the small table next to my bed and found a
full cup of tepid tea. It was a welcomed
discovery. I put the cup to my lips and
greedily gulped its contents, grimacing afterwards at the strong bitter
unsavory bite of tea neither hot nor cold and the memory of the day returned
afresh.
Salty appeared as if aware of the disturbance of the night’s peace and
placed his head on my knees and I realized I was wearing different
clothes. Mindlessly I stroked his head
and visually sought my shoes in the dimly illuminated room. Salty sat down and leaned into me. I moved my foot back and struck something
under my chair. My clothes were folded
neatly in a stack with my shoes on top under the chair. Upon the discovery, Salty stood up as if
hopeful of a pending change of scene.
As I changed from the clothes I was wearing I kept pushing away the awkward
visions of being dressed by a stranger like a sleeping child into their
pajamas. I was an educated, competent
woman reduced to puerility over the course of the day. Exasperated at my behavior, my gaze was drawn
up to see the moon, swept free of clouds, smiling benevolently down at me and beckoning
me to come out and play. Salty nudged me
toward the door. I was anxious to comply
and to see the moon glittering off the frothy ebony waves.
Stealthily, I tiptoed through the dark house feeling my way to the
door. Salty moved quickly past me and
awaited my arrival to free him from the enclosed prison barring him from a
moonlight swim. His tail banged noisily
on the door. I hushed him quietly and he
became more animated. I lunged to open
the door so as to quell the loud thumping of Salty’s tail. Salty bolted past and bounded to the crest of
the Sand dune and then doubled back before I was off the porch.
The air still smelled of rain but the stars sparkled radiantly unimpeded
by the opalescent luster of the moon. I
closed my eyes and deeply breathed in the sweet damp air. Salty was bounding up the dune again. On the porch, I saw my blanket draped over
the railing and reached up and pulled it down to carry with me as the night, or
early morning air had a slight chill. I
had no real conception of what time it might be.
I stepped off the porch as Salty returned for the third time and began to
make my way up the side of the large sandy dune that protected the little
cottage. I felt a little light headed
but remarkably unburdened. As I made my
way up the steep dune I reflected back on the ease in which my benefactor moved
over the hill. His pace never changed
from flat to steep, from sand to porch, he walked steady and unimpeded by the
terrain. His face showed signs of having
weathered the storms of life with grit and determination not to be taken under
by them.
As I made it to the top, I was awestruck by the magnificence of
witnessing where the power of heaven met with the power of the sea and the
realization that something or someone greater than either ruled them both and
realized that I was going to heal and not merely survive. Lost in a panoramic backdrop and a sea of
contemplation, I started when felt Salty brush against my leg and to find I was
not standing alone. We stood without
talking drinking in the resonance of the sea and wind and the starlight and
moonlight until they began to fade into the morning light.
He touched my shoulder and held out my bag with my remaining contents I
had left behind. “Thank-you,” I
whispered.
He smiled. “I nou’t but saved tha from
losin yer life, lassie. Go home and
build yerself the life you want.” His
blue eyes twinkled in the first light of morning and he smiled warmly and
nodded. I took my bag and headed down
the sea side of the dune intent on doing just that.
