2. Will
Chapter two
Will
She’s back . My feet pound along the shoreline to the steady rhythm of the music blasting through my earbuds, each stride bringing me closer to the solitary figure in the distance.
She’s about halfway up the beach, a small human island surrounded by an expanse of soft, pale sand, her knees hugged to her chest. The same woman I’ve seen every day for the past week, except for yesterday.
I’m glad she’s back. I don’t know who she is, but still.
Something draws me to her, like an invisible line reeling me in.
Maybe it’s just my nature to want to help people in distress, and she is upset.
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that a woman sitting on a cold, windy beach at dawn in the middle of winter has something going on.
When she wasn’t here yesterday, I worried, then promptly swore to myself that if I saw her again, I’d stop to talk to her. A pretty young woman should not be out here alone, looking like she’s carrying the weight of the world on her narrow shoulders.
I stop before drawing level, then smile at her from a distance because I don’t want to scare her. She doesn’t smile back. In fact, I’m not even sure she notices me, her eyes remaining focused out to sea. A faraway look that speaks of other times or places, not here on this chilly, deserted beach.
Long, dark strands of her hair fly free in the crisp morning breeze.
She snags them in her hand as she finally looks up, and our eyes meet.
Her pale blue-gray eyes are the color of the ocean on a stormy day and brim with melancholy.
I want to dive into their depths and rescue her from whatever has put that hurt there.
Clearing my throat, I search for the right words to say to the pretty stranger. “It’s unusual to find another beach lover on a morning like this.” I smile—the smile that usually puts people at ease.
Her eyes clear a little, and her rosebud lips tick up at the corners. “This icy wind is only for the truly determined beachgoers.” She turns to look out to sea again, and it’s hard to know if she welcomes my interruption.
“I’m Will,” I offer. “Just so you know for when we say hi tomorrow.”
She turns to face me again. “Hi, Will. Would you like to sit for a moment? You know, to get the full effect of another chilly blast.” Her smile is less tentative this time.
“Oh, and I’m Jewel, as in jewelry,” she introduces herself with what sounds like a well-rehearsed line, then gestures to the sand beside her.
I drop down onto it, leaving more than an arm’s length between us.
Up close, she’s petite and even prettier than I’d imagined from a distance.
Her unusual eyes dominate her delicate features, including a small, thin nose and bow-shaped pink lips.
She reminds me of a doll, not the flashy Barbie kind like my sister had as a child, more the darker-haired cousin who no one remembers the name of.
Though I’d never forget this beauty’s name.
Jewel perfectly describes the intriguing, luminescent quality of her eyes, which remind me of an opal pendant I’ve often seen my mother wear.
She leans her chin onto her bent knees as another blast of frigid air hits us.
The tilt of her head and narrowed gaze turned my way are full of curiosity, like I’m some previously undiscovered sea creature that just swam ashore.
“So, Will, what brings you out this early? I see you here every morning running miles. Are you training for a marathon or something?”
Her directness is refreshing, although it’s at odds with her softly spoken words and delicate frame. Another strong gust of wind threatens to carry her off, but she stays rooted to the spot, waiting for an answer.
With a brush of my hand across the beads of sweat on my forehead, I smile. “I could say the fresh air, but it’s too cold for that to be plausible, so I’ll go with the truth. I can’t sleep.”
“I prefer to hear the truth,” she says matter-of-factly.
Strangely, I find myself silently committing to always be honest with her. A ridiculous thought when we’ve only just met.
“And why are you here?” I ask in a hushed tone, like we’re sharing secrets.
Her eyes shutter closed briefly before replying, “It’s the same. The nights are too long.” She draws in a deep, shuddering breath. “Most nights it feels like I’m the only person awake.”
“I guarantee you that’s not the case.”
“Good to know,” she mutters almost to herself. This young woman is an enigma. In one breath, she’s comfortable demanding answers to her questions, and in the next, she looks completely vulnerable, like she’s about to crumble into a million pieces.
Folding my arms around my knees, I mirror her posture. “So, you’re a local?”
“For the moment. I grew up here … but I’m just visiting.” Her voice drops to almost a whisper, and I lean closer to catch the words before the wind whips them away.
“Are you staying at the Carlsons’ place?” she asks, with more strength and volume.
It’s like she has to work hard to hold a conversation with me. It’s not something I’m used to, as women usually enjoy talking to me.
“Yes. Do you know them?”
With a shake of her head, a few more wispy strands of hair escape the confines of her ponytail. “No, but I know of them. It’s a nice place.”
“It sure is. I’m a friend of Blake Carlson, we served together in the military.”
She nods, and for some reason, I elaborate, though I’m not usually forthcoming with my life story. “I’ve just returned to the States, and he offered me his family’s place to take a break before I start a new job in DC.”
“Nice. Though I have to say the weather is much better in the summer.”
The gentle smile softening her lips ticks up into a cheeky grin, and I’m encouraged to ask, “What about you? What brings you home for a visit at this time of year?”
Like a light bulb blowing, her smile is instantly extinguished. Fuck! Jewel’s eyes are now like looking into a smoked-glass mirror, and a crease pulls her brows together.
But just when I think she isn’t going to respond, she says, “My dad … my hero … was killed. I came home to bury him.” Her voice cracks on the words.
“I’m sorry,” I offer inadequately. Why didn’t I think something like this could be the source of her sadness? I’ve been around death enough to recognize that hollow look.
“Do you want to talk about it? I’ve got all day …
” I leave the sentence floating between us.
She’s so lost and in need of comfort, but I don’t reach out to her, even though I wish I could.
I wonder if there is someone else to hold her the way she needs.
Strangely, I don’t like the idea of some other guy wrapping her in his arms—a ridiculous thought since we’ve only just met.
She shrugs, and I think she’s not going to say anything more. Again, I’m wrong. “It was a car accident. He was fifty-four. Too young, that’s what everyone keeps telling me like it will help.” Her voice is little more than a murmur fading to silence, like she’s forgotten I’m even here.
But then she turns stormy eyes toward me. The first beams of sunlight dance over the waves, highlighting her shadowy profile. “I can’t stop thinking, why him?” Her voice hitches. “It’s just not fair. He’s all I had.”
I wish I could give her the answer to her question. But nobody has that answer. I know that because I’ve asked myself the same thing enough times when I’ve lost another friend in somebody else’s war.
“Jewel, I’ve seen a lot of death in my time in the military, and there’s no rhyme or reason to it. Good men get taken too soon while some evil monsters get to live through to old age.”
It’s the only comfort I can offer. Her eyes plead with me for more, and I wish I could help her make sense of it all.
“I’ve never lost a parent, but I’ve lost a lot of very good friends, so I know some of your pain.
Everything you’re feeling is perfectly natural. It’s all part of the grieving process.”
She looks up at me, those beautiful eyes now awash with unshed tears. “Thank you, Will. You know, I think I did need to speak to someone.”
“Well, in that case, I’m glad I was here.”
She scrubs her hands across her face, and when she lifts them away, she offers me a small smile. “I should probably go.”
“You don’t have to.”
“No, really, I do. You see, I kind of told my father’s friends I’d be returning to the city. It was just to stop the constant stream of visitors popping in to check on me. So I really do need to get back while it’s still early.”
Hearing that she’s hiding away from people makes it sadder and tugs on an invisible string in my chest. I rub my hand over the spot.
I know too well the importance of having the support of your family and friends when you lose someone close.
I wish I could do more. But that’s not today, when we’ve only just met.
We stand up at the same time, and she looks even tinier beside me.
At six foot one, I’m used to towering over most women, but judging by the way she barely reaches my shoulder, I’m guessing she’s about five two or three.
My gaze dips as she brushes the sand from her yoga pants.
The snug fit is impossible not to notice, but I quickly look away, not wanting to be sleazy.
Sand sticks to my joggers, but I don’t bother to brush it away, as the house isn’t too far away and I’ll be straight into the hot shower.
“Am I going to see you tomorrow?” I ask, wondering if she’ll come back now that we’ve spoken so openly.
“Yes, tomorrow. Bye, and thanks again.” She turns and walks away so quickly she’s almost running back up the sand in her rush to escape.
Hopefully, this isn’t the last time I see the beautiful and intriguing Jewel.
Although I need to be thinking about getting my own head straight, I’m inexplicably drawn to her, like our lonely souls have found a kindred spirit.
I’m only here for another week, but if I can offer her a small measure of support by talking and listening, then that’s what I’ll do.
Turning, I make my way up the sand to the beach house, my calves tight from the punishing run. Tired muscles mean my body is finally ready to relax—something I’ve found difficult to do even here.
I step onto the wooden deck running along the back of the large beach house, then turn to look toward the spot where Jewel disappeared into the dunes.
Walking to the side entrance where the shower room is, I strip my T-shirt and pullover off in one movement.
Next, I discard my shoes and joggers before stepping under the steamy hot shower, the heat and high pressure easing my tight muscles.
My eyes drop closed, and I tilt my head back, letting the spray flow down over my face and body.
The only sound is the water drumming against the tiles under my feet.
At first, the quiet of the house was more disturbing than if there’d been a wild twenty-four-hour rave going on next door.
But as the days have passed, I’ve grown accustomed to the local sounds.
Nowhere is ever silent, and this house is no exception.
You just need to listen harder to hear the sounds of nature.
There they are, filtering through the high, open window that runs along the length of the shower recess. The wind whistling against the wooden siding. The faint rustling of the coarse grasses that cover the dunes just outside. The ever-present slapping of the small waves against the shoreline.
At some point, the sounds fade, and instead, thoughts of the pretty brunette I just met take up residence in my head.
From her delicate features to her tiny figure, everything about Jewel appealed to me.
But it wasn’t only physical. She has a natural inner beauty that shines through in her softly spoken words and the depths of emotion that wash through her gaze as regularly as the waves rolling up to the shore.
Sadness and loneliness were easily recognizable, but there were also flickers of strength and fortitude.
She’s suffering, and that speaks to my fundamental nature in a way that nothing else can.