Every summer she scanned the road; waiting impatiently for the little house to appear: its cheerful blue plaid curtains waving in the breeze. The place was shabby and small but it was beautiful to her...because he worked there. He rented boats to them each year. He was a towering man of maybe twenty (to her) at five foot ten inches. His hair was thick and long, his chest was broad and tanned, his arms roped with muscles. His eyes were as black as midnight, seeming to see her soul when he glanced at her. Sarah couldn't wait to see him. Some day, she just knew she'd be able to speak to him. Since she was twelve years old, she'd been fascinated with this man. Now, at seventeen, she primped and smoothed trying to perfect her appearance. When he came around the corner, her cheeks flushed and she immediately felt awkward. She prayed the butterflies in her stomach wouldn't make her sick. She toed the dirt as he and her parents loaded up the boat and got things ready for them to head out across the lake. She was convinced he could hear her heart pounding. Her cheeks turned deep crimson as he plucked a field daisy and handed it to her. "Welcome back Little One." he always smiled. Sarah could never find her voice. She snorted childishly and nervously tucked her hair behind her ear after accepting his gift. She held that flower and mentally played "He loves me not" careful not to damage the silky petals. She would stare at it for hours, replaying his movements in her mind, his voice, even the way the sun peeked over his shoulders. She memorized the way his jeans fit his body. She could feel the scratch of his old flannel shirt. It sent chills through her. She would tuck his gift away in her diary with a loving sigh and hide it under the old stone steps. Sarah collected a few more summers, and a few more flowers, growing up and away from her childish crush.
Years later, she returned as a wife and plump mother-to be. She was excited to show her family what her summers had been all about when she was growing up. She also couldn't wait to see if he was there. She fidgeted in her seat and craned her neck to see the little shack with the blue gingham curtains. When she spotted him hauling the motors up so he could clean them, she almost squealed. She cupped her mouth and blinked back the rush of love that heated her core. Her lips trembled and burned. THIS time, she'd speak to him. She was, after all, an adult. Her husband barely got the car in park before she jumped out and quickly waddled over to him. His face crinkled in the late day sun. His hair seemed less silky but his eyes grinned all the way into her heart. She stammered and blushed as she tried to explain who she was:
"You probably don't remember me. I came here when I was a parent. WITH my parents. Years ago. But not TOO long. I remember I loved you...YOUR BOATS! We rented boats and I loved them. The boats. Well, I look different now. More mommy-ish." she giggled and rubbed her swollen tummy.
He bent and picked a field daisy. "Welcome back Little One." he smiled and Sarah's mouth fell open. She felt her tongue fill up her mouth as she forgot how to speak. Her unsteady hand took the most beautiful flower she'd ever seen. She giggled and inhaled its smell: warm and sweet. Her husband furrowed his brow and stared at her as if she had tried yodel "The Star Spangled Banner". She stared after him as he prepared their boat for the lake. Heading to the cabin, Sarah spent the rest of the evening on the old porch staring across the lake and twirling that little daisy. It was the best summer she'd had in a long time. Every fiber in her body was alive with the thought of him. Nothing had changed. She groaned a little as she tucked the flower in the diary and put it back in her romantic hiding spot. Many more summers fell away, making a life.
Tears stung her eyes and she wiped her nose. The pain seemed to tear at her. She could barely breathe. The only thing she wanted was the lake; to see his face and hear his voice. After all these years, the thought of him still sent shivers down her spine. She pulled in and got out. She was alone. Her husband had gone. Her daughter had a life of her own. She wanted to begin again; here at the lake with a love stronger than she'd ever known or admitted to wanting. She had found her voice, there in her heart. She now had the courage to use it. She wanted nothing more than to shout it across that lake. A young man with silky black hair and dark eyes came out to greet her. She wilted like an old field daisy.
"Hi!" he smiled.
"Hello." she almost whimpered. Fear snaked around her throat threatening to close off her voice forever.
"Need a boat?"
She seemed lost."There used to be a man here..." she stammered. She shook as if it were freezing. Her teeth chattered.
"That's my dad. He's gone."
The words stabbed her. She swallowed hard clutching her heart to keep it from shattering. "I see. I used to come here as a girl. I liked your dad. I wanted to see if he remembered..." a sob cut her off. She caught it with her hand and turned. Her body felt heavy and numb. Without waiting to hear another word, she quickly walked back to her car and began the drive around the lake to the cabin. Her hands gripped the wheel until her knuckles were white. The trees whirred past her as she picked up speed. She thought of his gentle eyes, his wonderful smile. Sarah began to shake. Arriving at the cabin, she bolted for the door. Like a teenager, she threw herself on the bed, crying. Tears spilled from her eyes and heart. Her head pounded as she hugged the pillow tighter and tighter. This went on forever it seemed until the sun wandered off across the lake leaving sad purple streaks trailing across the water, like the mascara down her cheeks. She slept, her breath sadly hitching while she dreamt of him.
When morning came she stretched, feeling sorrow like hot lead crushing her chest. The sense of loss was almost crippling. She didn't want to move; ever again. The loons cried for her through the early morning fog. Sarah pulled the pillow over her ears when she heard the car and the footsteps.
"Not now." she answered to the knock at the door.
Sarah fell back to sleep, dreaming of the man who had held her heart every summer.
It was after noon when she finally sauntered out to the porch. Had there been a breeze, she might have missed them: a handfull of field daisies.She scooped them up almost devouring them. A new batch of tears slipped down her puffy cheeks. She startled at the movement on the porch. He stood there. Smiling.
"Welcome back. Little One." His hair had a few greys in it now. His dark eyes looked inside her.
She rushed him and threw her arms around his neck, shrieking delightedly into his shoulder. He smelled like soap and summer. His arms slowly encircled her waist. The energy was immediate and intense. She pulled away clasping his chin and began to reign kisses on his tanned cheeks. She laughed as her eyes gulped his presence. Her knees went weak. She sighed and leaned her head against his chest. She ran her arms along his strong arms almost disbelieving he was real. His hard working hands gently rested on the small of her back.
"Why the tears ?"
"Your son said you were gone."
"Walleye fishing." he finished.
She laughed at herself skipping to the steps. The old book with crisp warped pages slid easily from between the stones. With a giddy heart, she handed it to him. He slowly turned the pages. He gazed at the wilted flowers pressed in the book; of her heart. He smiled softly and turned to stand in front of her.
"Welcome home" he whispered against her cheek, his calloused hands wiping the last stray tear.
He leaned in and kissed her, barely. She absolutely lost her breath. Her head swam. She touched the front of his shirt, almost to hold herself up. His lips were soft, his breath was sweet. His tongue gently traced her mouth. She melted into his arms.
"I'll have to fix those steps." he said quietly into her hair. "No need to hide your feelings anymore."
Have a nice day.
