As usual, that Thursday morning, the drive relaxed away the city stress. She never failed to marvel at the freedom the miles behind her brought.
The small cottage on the Cape beckoned promising respite from endless office politics, worries about the stock market and the ever discouraging lack of promotion.
Damn his Friday AM meeting! She would miss the joy the shared spending mile after mile side by side watching the tensions subside in each other. No matter. He'd fly up after the meeting and they'd have all that delicious time to spend in each other's arms.
Four years. They'd been together four whole years.The thought startled her as she had been lulled by the road and the hint of a sea breeze.
"These days four years is longer than most marriages".
"Marriage", she sighed aloud.
Feeling the miles pass beneath the tires, she sensed rather than saw the exit sign. Smoothly navigating the off ramp, the memory of his sweet proposal returned with the warmth of an old friend.
Smiling broadly into the considerable Cape traffic, the recollection of his 'one knee, ring in the pocket' approach took center stage.
Letting him down gently had been the only way at the time...
"Oh my dear. I am not ready yet for that big of a step though I love you with all my heart. Perhaps we could live together and see how it goes?"
Ignoring their scandalized families she moved into his apartment, his bed and his life with an understanding that marriage was the next step should there be one.
Careers intact they established a beautiful home, a compatible routine and a comfortability more common to couples four times their ages.
They purchased the little Cape cottage just a year prior for weekend "runaways". The ivy covered one bedroom cottage on a small remote stretch of beach became worth every expensive penny. The cherished days spent there found them holding hands, laughing,and making love. The time together fueled the fire and knit them closer and closer together.
The next morning she donned shorts and his favorite shirt and coffee in hand, headed for the beach. Sorry he'd missed this particularly beautiful sunrise, she strolled aimlessly along the shoreline, expecting his arrival any minute.
Casually noting the excessive litter among the shells and clumps of seaweed, she grumbled.
"Seems like everyone's garbage has ended up here this morning."
A curious collection of litter, though, she noted...a doll, a handbag, sneakers, a tattered life jacket, a slipper and paper scattered everywhere.
Stooping, her hand rested upon an envelope. The familiarity of the script gave her blood a chill.
It said simply...
Her knees gave way. Kneeling in the sand she forced her trembling fingers to open the damp envelope. A ring fell into her hand.
The wet ink gave the words the look of tears...
As she wept and put his ring on her finger, reports of a downed plane from the old radio on the porch drifted out to her on the morning breeze. Two words screamed with the gulls...
"No survivors".
The old timers that lived out at Ann's Landing near the crumbling cottage knew the old lady's story. Every year, on the same day, just about sunrise, she made her way to the overgrown beach. For thirty years they had watched her kneel in the sand, and carefully unfold a fragile piece of paper. As the sun emerged from behind the morning horizon, the dawn would catch the tears and make them shine on her wrinkled face.
As she had ages and the ritual had become increasingly physically difficult for her, she had shunned all offers of assistance, insisting she would would do this alone.
When on this day, she did not make her way to the beach, the people of Ann's Landing did not need to see her lifeless body to know that she had long ago accepted his proposal and at long last embarked upon her honeymoon.
As her family committed her body to the sea, it was the neighbors from the Landing who remembered to throw the rice and rose petals.
copyright 2002
do not reprint without permission
