By the Salt, Salt Sea

by R. L. Stuemke

  By the Salt, Salt Sea

  by R. L. Stuemke

  Hearts on Fire Press

  www.heartsonfirepress@live.com

  Copyright ©

  First published in 2010, 2010

  NOTICE: This eBook is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution to any person via email, floppy disk, network, print out, or any other means is a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment. This notice overrides the Adobe Reader permissions which are erroneous. This eBook cannot be legally lent or given to others.

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  Publishers Note: This is a work of fiction. All names,characters, places, and events are the work of the author'simagination. Any resemblance to real person, places, orevents is coincidental. This title is available in both e-bookand paperback from Hearts on Fire Books. O 2009

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  By the Salt, Salt Sea

  by R. L. Stuemke

  "Sometimes, in the evening, I sit outside, singing to myself as I wait for them to return, father and son, from the sea they love so much. If I feel lonely, all I need to do is reach for them, finding the quiet warmth within myself and sending it spinning from me, reaching out to the shore and beyond. Soon, I will taste the salt spray and feel the ageless rhythm of the waves, and together we three will celebrate and sing the songs of the ocean."

  Somewhere between the outskirts of the city and the turnoff to the town of Presteign, there was an invisible boundary, and time itself was left behind, along with tourists seeking more modern seashore attractions. As though the driver was afraid that staying any longer would trap him in the Twilight Zone, the bus stopped for only a few minutes at the general store. Shari grabbed her suitcase and barely had time to turn toward the store entrance before the bus was on its way again, giving her no chance to change her mind. She needed to find a cheap room, because she had already used too much money for bus tickets and the occasional drab city motel room, but still a place that would serve as a temporary refuge. She hoped that Charles wouldn't even think to search for her in this small, out-of-the-way community; he usually ignored such places, believing them obsolete and facing extinction. Shari looked around, took a deep breath to give herself some confidence, and made her way into the store. There was an elderly couple sitting next to the counter, playing chess. They both looked up as Shari approached, and looked closely at this new arrival, as small-town folks do when strangers come their way. Still feeling a little selfconscious, Shari found her free hand around her neck, habitually trying to hide any marks around her throat. Little did she know that the haunted fearfulness in her eyes spoke louder and was far more noticeable, than what was left of the old bruises. The old man sniffed a little, coughed, and exchanged glances with his companion. He stood up, giving Shari a friendly smile. "Anything I can do for you, Miss?" he asked, his voice tinged with a soft burr.

  "Well, I was wondering if you could direct me to a motel." He chuckled. "Only motel's a dive out on the highway, no place for a young lady alone. Most people who live here prefer tourists who pass through, shop a bit and move on. We all like it quiet."

  "Oh, that's just what I need!" Shari blurted the words out before she could stop herself; she blushed and said, "I mean I was looking for a quiet place to stay for awhile. Is there anywhere I could just find a room? Uh... I don't have a lot of money, though. I need some kind of a job, too. I'd be willing to take anything, cleaning, waiting tables, cashiering, whatever. I don't suppose you need someone here?" Only weeks earlier, she would never have dared to ask strangers for this kind of help, but strangers were all she ever saw now, and, surprisingly, she found some small courage in this relative anonymity.

  The man sniffed again, and looked at a woman, who was probably his wife; they shared the kind of silent communication seen only between long-joined couples. "You might have more luck in the city," the woman said finally, speaking slowly and bringing her voice up at the end of the phrase, making it more like a question. "They have shelters and such there, and job centers."

  Shari shook her head. "I'm just not comfortable in the city. All those people, the shelters are so crowded and everything is so expensive. I was really hoping... I don't have much money." Her voice trailed off; she had prepared a speech, all about her husband's unexpected death, her struggles to pay his many outstanding debts and get away from his hostile family, but somehow the lies got jumbled up in her mind and she couldn't get them out. Lord, why was she telling her secrets to these people? "Please, can you help me?" The woman looked down at the chessboard, then over at her companion again, raising her eyebrows a little. He grinned slightly, and nodded twice. Finally, she looked back at Shari, obviously having reached some decision. "In that case, child, I think it's the lighthouse for you."

  "What do you mean?" The strange comment startled Shari, and her familiar panic, a constant companion throughout the years of her marriage, threatened to surface again.

  "She means Mr. Maclachlan's place, Miss," the old man said. "I can take you there now, if you'd like. He's a writer, Mr. Maclachlan is, and he's bought the old lighthouse. The tower's old and needs work, but the keeper's house is still in good shape. I'm Gil," he added, "and this is my wife, Bess. This is our store."

  "I'm Shari," she said, putting her suitcase on the floor beside her, "Shari Logan." She had decided to use the name of her last foster family, before she turned eighteen and the child welfare system wrote her off, because it was unlikely that Charles would expect her to use that name. He'd never even met the Logans, and she'd never had much reason to talk about them.

  "Mr. Maclachlan might seem a bit strange at first." Bess said. "He's English, you see. But he's a good man, and the cottage is nice and quiet. He told us last week he's looking for someone to help him keep house and handle his mail, but most of his savings went to buy the place, so all he can offer is room and board and some small wage."

  "He keeps to himself," Gil added, "Spends a lot of time trying to fix up the tower, or just relaxing down on the rocks. He's real fond of the sea. He lives alone except for his dog, but you don't have to worry about how he'll treat you. He's a kind one."

  "No one bothers him here, and that's how he likes it." Bess chimed back in. "You should try him at the cottage first, if he doesn't answer the door, you could just wait a bit. The weather's nice today, not much chance of a storm." Shari's fearful indecision started whispering warnings in her head, but she had gotten a lot of practice ignoring that voice in the last few weeks, and she smiled at her new acquaintances. "It sounds like a possibility," she said, "Yes, thank you; I'd like to go there. If nothing else, I've always liked seeing lighthouses."

  It wasn't a long drive down to the shore. In her head, Shari tried to estimate how long a walk it would be, and guessed maybe half an hour at a steady pace. It was a small peninsula just past the edge of town, isolated enough to be quiet and yet close enough to feel safe. The sight of the quiet light tower further out toward the water, struck a chord in Shari's soul that she had never heard before, and it felt good.

  "Oh please, Lord," she whispered to herself, praying that this lovely place could be her sanctuary, at least for a little while. Gil carried
her suitcase up to the door of the cottage, and knocked. When there was no answer, he shrugged and apologized. "We should have tried calling him first, I guess. Don't know why I didn't think of that. He should be back soon enough, I would guess, but if you'd rather not wait, I can take you back." He scratched his forehead, a concerned expression on his face. "Lady living not far from the store has a couple rooms she lets out from time to time. Might be, I can talk her into giving you a room there for the night, and then try here again tomorrow?"

  "I think I'll wait," Shari said, hope making her momentarily brave. "If I have to, I can hike back. It's so nice out here, and it'll be light for a while yet. Thank you so much for your help."

  "Our pleasure, Miss. You be careful, now, and tell Mr. Maclachlan my Bess will take it real hard if he doesn't at least try to help you out." The old man grinned and gave her a conspiratorial wink.

  Feeling almost relaxed, Shari grinned back at him. As he drove away, she picked up her suitcase and walked around the house. There was another small porch at the back, facing the ocean, somewhat at an angle to the light tower that was a short distance from the house. This was the first lighthouse she'd seen where the tower and the keeper's quarters weren't connected, but she'd read about several that were separate, and it was interesting to actually witness one. She took a deep breath, welcoming the ocean breeze into her body, and sat down on the porch steps to wait. The warning voice in her brain was asking if she knew what she was doing, shouldn't she have gone back with Gil and taken a room with his neighbor. No wait... more people would see her then and possibly remember her if someone started asking questions.

  She firmly silenced the voice, sick of worrying and watched the sea gulls circling just past the light tower. There had to be an updraft there, and the birds were enjoying it, extending their wings and balancing on the air for as long as possible before flying around in a wide circle to return to the same spot and hover again. Down the shore, she could see what appeared to be some kind of spaniel patrolling the rocks like a sentinel. Much further off in the distance, there were waves breaking against the rocks, sounding almost like music. Her heart jumped in an unexpected reaction to the rough beauty of the peninsula, and also the familiar fear of rejection. As the gulls flew further out and the music faded, the spaniel was joined by a young man who walked up from the shore. As he got closer, Shari could see that he was not much older than she was, probably in his early thirties, dark and slender, with eyes deep enough to drown in, gray-green like the sea itself, only a shade darker. As afraid of men as she had become, Shari saw in him a beauty she had thought reserved for the wild things she loved in nature, or perhaps the occasional actor. Her heart began beating even faster, and a sudden heat rose inside her. His eyes were incredible; he wasn't tall, but there was strength and agility in his graceful carriage, and he was truly handsome. The dog came up to her, sniffed her fingers and then licked her hand. Without thinking, she scratched his ears. The man smiled at that, and Shari thought her knees were going to melt. With a silent prayer in her heart, she stammered out a short explanation about needing a job and asking the people at the general store.

  "Yes, I asked Bess and Gil to be on the watch for someone," he said, with a truly beautiful accent. "I could use a little help here. I'm afraid the room is somewhat small, but it does have a nice view, and a private bath. All you'd have to do is keep the place tidy, help in the kitchen, run a few errands in town, and maybe sort through the mail a bit. There's a machine for the telephone, so you won't have to handle any of that. Don't worry about Aneurin here, either. He's a well-mannered dog, most of the time. There are a few cats wandering about, I caught them and had them fixed, and I leave food out for them, but they're all the company I get, as a rule." He extended his hand. "I'm Gareth Maclachlan." Shari took his hand, which was warm and strong, with the kind of long fingers one associated with artists or musicians. She had a quick recollection of someone saying that most musicians he knew had hands like truck drivers. "Shari Logan. Ah, Aneurin is a Clumber spaniel, isn't he? I like to watch the dog shows on TV." Her new employer smiled again, nodding to indicate that she was right about the dog's breed. He picked up her suitcase, and led her into the house, the dog following politely behind them.

  Her room was small but very comfortable. The furnishings had obviously been chosen to make the most of the available floor space and yet fulfill the needs of its resident, whether male or female. One wall was nearly taken up by built-in drawers and a closet. There was a double bed with a pedestal stand to serve as a bedside table, a small writing desk with a mirror so it could double as a vanity, an old rocking chair, and a beautiful cushioned window seat that called to Shari the instant she saw it. The attached bath was small, with only a shower instead of a tub, but it included a mirrored medicine cabinet and two small storage units, and it was private, with a door that locked from the inside. She had very few belongings to put away, but even so, the room felt like home by the time she was finished.

  They had a simple supper, accompanied by some personal conversation that Shari found awkward, because her contributions were only partially true. Once again, the dialogue she had rehearsed on the bus proved inadequate, and she found herself improvising.

  "My husband, well, we split a few months ago. We were married for eight years and the end was ... difficult. I'd really rather not talk about it, if you don't mind. I just needed to get away from there, and Presteign is about as far away as I could get. I'm tired of cities anyway." This brief statement was all she could manage about her situation, and much to her relief, Gareth didn't press for more. His life sounded so nice that Shari was doubly grateful when he didn't press for more information about hers. "I was born in Cornwall, but we moved around a lot, Cornwall, Scotland, Wales, Ireland, and Skye. It was just my parents and me; they didn't have any other kids. I know Mum would have loved more, but both she and Dad were very good at accepting whatever God gave them. Dad was a nature photographer, that's why we moved around a lot, but he preferred the seacoast. That's how I fell in love with the ocean. When I first thought of moving across the Atlantic, this was exactly the kind of place I was dreaming of, and I could scarcely believe it when I found the lighthouse and learned it was for sale. As for Mum, well, she's a scholar, an expert on King Arthur. She named me after one of the knights. She settled in Cornwall after Dad died." His father had died in a tragic accident while protesting the slaughter of baby seals. Even now, years after, his voice broke with grief as he spoke of it.

  He took a little time after the meal to show her around the cottage. Like her room, the rest of the small house was furnished simply and comfortably, making good use of all the available space. Besides the kitchen-dining room, there was a small laundry room with a half bath. Gareth's master suite was a bedroom and tiny sitting room with its own door to the home's full bathroom. Another bedroom served as his office with a smaller spare room that was his library, with books shelved from floor to ceiling. There was a nice-sized living room with one end of it also housed full bookcases. Shari could hardly believe all the books! She somehow found the courage to ask if he would mind her exploring his collection.

  "Of course not! You can read whatever you like. Books are supposed to be read, after all. I'm a writer, adventure mostly. Without readers, I'd be out of work." He finished by telling her that he'd start showing her what work he wanted her to do in the morning, and that he wanted to get some of his own work done before bedtime. He closed himself into his office, and Shari retreated to her room, curling up on the window seat and staring off toward the ocean. From her window, she could see the battered old tower that had once housed a great light to guide ships past hidden rocks to safe harbors, and further up the coast, the tall metal structure that housed the new automatic light that had taken its place. Somehow, against all odds, she had apparently found a safe harbor of her own, for at least a few weeks and possibly a little longer; she knew she wouldn't be able to stay forever, but at least she could relax for now. Finally
, she curled up in bed, and just before falling asleep, found herself thinking about her employer. She thought everything about him was attractive: his soft voice, the beautiful Celtic shape of his face, his lean athletic body, even the fact that his height was much better matched to her own; everything entranced her. Thinking about him caused the heat in her body to rise, enough to set off alarms in her psyche.

  'This is dangerous, back away, run, run ...' but for once, she was able to quell the panicky thoughts. The last thing on her mind before falling asleep was a pair of eyes that were the color of the ocean, but just a shade darker. Shari woke the next morning to the beeping of her little travel alarm, pleasantly surprised to realize that she had slept straight through without any nightmares. She took a quick shower and stood before the mirror brushing her short dark blonde hair, mentally reviewing her small wardrobe. As soon as she had a little more money, she would have to buy some new clothes, but for now, what she had would have to do. She decided on a dark blue polo top to go with her only skirt, a knee-length black A-line. She considered using more makeup than usual, now that she wasn't facing another day on the bus, but chose instead to use some simple eyeliner to accent her light blue eyes, a pale lipstick, and a little foundation to cover the freckles Charles hated. She emerged from her bedroom as Gareth came in the back door with Aneurin, who had obviously just enjoyed a morning run. Her new employer was dressed much as he had been when she first met him: a dark turtleneck jersey and cords. "Good morning, Mr. Maclachlan," she said with a smile. He smiled back. "Please, let's go with first names. With just the two of us, it seems a bit silly to be formal. Do you mind if I call you Shari?"

  "Not at all. What can I make you for breakfast?"

  "Why don't we make it together this morning, so you can get familiar with where everything is?" The morning continued in this comfortable, casual way. Gareth showed her around with more detail, explaining what her duties would be, standard housekeeping just as she had expected, and some cooking, although he made it clear that they would share that responsibility. She would have evenings, Wednesday afternoons, and weekends free, and would receive her wages every Friday. The only thing she found at all frightening was providing the information Gareth needed to give to his accountant, but she didn't know what else to do. "I haven't had the chance to change all of my records yet, so some are still in my married name," she told him. This was the first time she'd used the fake social security number she'd found online, sitting in a cyber-cafe, checking out obscure websites set up for women on the run, trying to save themselves or their children from domestic horrors of all kinds. She'd thought of finding one of the shelters set up for that purpose, but Charles would know to check those places, so she'd felt a trifle safer doing things on her own.