by L A Morgan
CRASHING WAVES
by L A Morgan
Copyright 2012
[Based on characters from my novels,
Catch a Falling Star and Unbidden Love]
Other Works by L A Morgan
Asher St. James
Dirty Little Secrets
Suburbia
The Comic Dictionary
The Theron Ghost Series
Theron: The Amusing Musings of a Ghost
Theron and the Amazon
Theron and the Baby
Theron and the Curse
Theron and the Dentist
Theron and the Extraterrestrial (coming soon)
Romance Novels
Catch a Falling Star
Unbidden Love
Crashing Waves
White Mountain Magic
Mardi Gras Masquerade
Starlight Lagoon
And Maybe Romance
The Man Series
Man: The Animal
Man: The Slave
To Mark,
Here’s to hanging out on the beach
with a bottle of wine,
listening to the crashing waves
and the wind strumming my guitar.
CHAPTER ONE
As Laurel Nelson walked slowly up the aisle of the church, she was reminded of the old expression, always a bridesmaid, never a bride. Her best friend, Lindy, was getting married in a traditional ceremony. The church was festooned with gorgeous flower arrangements and white, satin ribbons.
Although Laurel had not been surprised when Lindy had asked her to be the maid-of-honor, she had been flattered. In a way, she also felt a bit sad, knowing their relationship was changing. Lindy’s time with her would now be limited. Laurel smiled brightly, pushing aside the thoughts of her impending loneliness. She was genuinely happy for her friend.
Lindy’s marriage had all the qualities of a fairytale romance. As she and Joey Castellano exchanged her vows with, the love they felt for each other was obvious. Joey was vice president of one of the east coast’s leading import firms. His father had started up the company when he was young, and had gone on to become a corporate magnate.
The guest list was impressive. Besides the family, friends, and business associates that had been invited, there were also a number of celebrities and politicians. As Laurel glanced around the room, she was particularly excited to see Dave Bartlett, the famous rock star. Lindy had told her he would be there with his wife, Amber.
Laurel was not seeing anyone on a steady basis at the time, so she had not invited an escort to the wedding. She walked down the aisle with Frank Castellano at her side. He was the best man, as well as the groom’s youngest brother. Before the wedding, Lindy had called to ask her if she would like to be paired off with Frank for the reception. Since Laurel had never met him, she asked what he was like.
“He’s very nice,” Lindy assured her.
“What does he do?”
“Frank’s a graduate student. He’s working on his anthropology thesis.”
“He’s not seeing anyone?” Laurel asked.
“He’s too busy with his work.”
“Then I guess it will be okay.”
So everything had been arranged. After a great deal of fanfare, the wedding party finally arrived at the reception hall and took their places at the bridal table. Laurel finally got a chance to study Frank more closely. In her daydreams, she had imagined she might find a love interest here.
It was easy to overlook the fact that he was two years younger than she was, but Laurel was disappointed to see he did not share his brothers’ good looks. Frank’s features were regular, but they were very plain. This would not have bothered her if she found some other facet of his character to interest her. That did not happen. Frank’s conversation was stilted by his shyness and his fondness for long words that were not in common use. Laurel found it hard to understand what he was saying. When she tried to joke about this, he appeared to be mortified. Apparently, he had no sense of humor.
Laurel’s hopes for a nice evening crumbled into dust. They were finally revived when she happened to meet Amber Bartlett in the ladies’ restroom. Amber had made some comment about liking the color and cut of Laurel’s gown, and this had led to an interesting conversation.
When Laurel asked Amber how she had met her famous husband, Amber told her a little about their whirlwind courtship. The romance of this encounter held Laurel enthralled. Her dreams had always been filled with passion and excitement, and now she knew they could come true. When they returned to the reception, Amber introduced her to her husband. This was the high point of Laurel’s day. Dave Bartlett had been her favorite rockstar for the last few years. When he charmed her with his magnetic smile and complimentary words, she had to hold back her girlish impulse to giggle.
Today was the start of her two week vacation. Laurel wondered what adventures would be in store for her there. Things were definitely looking up, and life was looking good.
As the newlyweds were getting ready to leave the reception, one of the unmarried women asked the bride, “Aren’t you going to do that tossing the bouquet thing?”
Lindy snorted and replied, “I forgot all about it!”
“And I forgot that bit with the garter,” Joey added, sending his new wife a mischievous grin.
“Oh, Joey,” Lindy whispered. “That’s so old fashioned.”
“But you know I’m an old-fashioned kind of guy.”
“Yeah, right. Next, you’ll be telling me that you intend to sell your Bugatti and buy an SUV.”
“Come to think of it, we’ll be needing a family car soon.”
“Not that soon, Romeo,” Lindy caustically replied.
“But I need an heir!”
“That’s it! The honeymoon’s off!”
Joey laughed and held up his hands, saying, “Okay! We’ll forget the garter ritual!”
After giving him a quick kiss, Lindy called for all the unmarried women to get together so she could toss out her bouquet. Laurel lined up with the others. There was a lot of giggling and shifting for position among the crowd.
Turning her back to them, Lindy waited a few seconds, and then threw her bouquet high into the air. Two young women on the front line, accidentally slammed together directly in front of Laurel. In the process, they both lost their balance, moving apart. As a result, the bouquet fell directed into Laurel’s outstretched hands. She gathered the flowers closely to her, sniffing their lovely fragrance. When she looked up, she saw Lindy smiling at her. The moment was broken when the groom swept her up into his arms and carried her out of the room.
Soon after this, the wedding guests began to leave. Laurel was eager to get home. She still had to finish packing for her trip. Tomorrow morning, she would catch a flight from JFK International Airport to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina.
The plane trip was relatively short, but it gave Laurel just enough time to think over her brief acquaintance with Dave Bartlett and his wife. Amber had seemed so down-to-earth, so unspoiled by the glamour that surrounded her husband. Recently, he had released a solo ballad called, Amber, Light of My Life. Laurel now realized that he must have written it to win Amber’s love.
She had always enjoyed picking out the chords to the latest popular tunes on her guitar, and she had brought it with her. When Laurel had a relaxing moment in her vacation apartment, she planned to work on Dave Bartlett’s latest hit, Crashing Waves. Now that she had gotten to meet him, she would enjoy the experience even more.
Laurel had already reserved a compact car at the airport. After she picked up her luggage, she went to the car rental agency. Within twenty minutes, she was on her way to her seaside accommodations. Laurel had never been to Myrtle Beach before, but some of the women
she worked with had told her how much they had enjoyed themselves there.
The streets were all logically numbered, so she had no difficulty in finding The Oasis, the efficiency motel where she would be staying. The busy summer season had just ended, and it had not been difficult to obtain a reservation. Laurel did not mind missing the crowds. All she was truly looking for in this vacation was peace, comfort, and relaxation. If a romantic interlude happened to come her way, she was prepared to enjoy it, but she held no great hope that she would discover her life-long love at such a remote distance from her home.
Laurel was pleased that her apartment was on the first floor of the building. After opening the front door, the kitchen area was immediately before her and the bathroom was off to the right. A short hallway led into a large bedroom and sitting area. She immediately drew back the drapes to reveal the sliding glass doors that opened onto her private balcony. This was furnished with two comfortable chairs and a glass-topped table. It was perfect, exactly the way the brochure had depicted.
The only thing that was missing now was someone to share her vacation enjoyment. There was, however, pleasure in solitude. After sitting on one of the chairs, Laurel thought about her parents, back in Queens, New York. At that moment, they would probably be eating their lunch.
It had taken a great deal of perseverance for Laurel to sever her close ties to her family. A year ago, she had finally announced that she was getting an apartment of her own. She had been twenty-four years old then, but her mother and father still thought of her as a child. There were no brothers or sisters to soften this blow.
When her mother heard that Laurel would be taking her vacation all by herself and at an unfamiliar place, she had appalled. A family battle ensued, but Laurel finally persuaded her parents that she could take care of herself. This was her second big step into the world of independence. She had become a strong-minded individual, and her new freedom had given her confidence.
After unpacking her bags, Laurel laid down on the double bed closest to the balcony. That was where she would sleep. Laurel planned to watch the dawn rise on the ocean every morning. It would be a perfect way to start the day.
A few minutes later, she was up again and ready to explore the busy vacation town. First, she would have to find a suitable place to have lunch. On her way to the motel, she had noticed dozens of eateries along the main street. Some of them had been closed until the tourist season once again started, but the selection was still enormous.
As she drove along, she noticed that all of the beach supply outlet stores were presently having their end-of-the-season clearance sale. She decided to check out these possible bargains later. Within several blocks, she spotted the cafeteria that one of her friends had strongly recommended. This place was known for its good food, inexpensive prices, and casual dining format. Laurel stopped to eat there. She was not disappointed.
After browsing through gift shops for an hour or so, she returned to her apartment to put on her bathing suit and catch what remained of the summer’s warmth. Having relatively dark skin and almost black hair, Laurel did not worry about getting a burn. The sun was still hot, but the temperature had begun to lean towards the cooler end of the scale.
The Oasis provided a large pool that extended within a six feet of Laurel’s balcony. There were numerous lounges, tables, and chairs positioned about the area. Most of the tables had umbrellas over them. A low, wired fence divided the private property from the public domain of the beach. At this time of the year, there were few people around to trespass.
Laurel swam in the heated pool, then dried herself and stretched out on one of the lounges. None of the residents of the motel disturbed her privacy. The sound of the ocean waves, lapping on the beach, soon lulled her into a restful sleep. When she awakened, the sun was passing behind the building next door. There had been no carefree, laughing voices to arouse her, but only the loss of warmth that the sun had provided. The motel appeared to be deserted.
Laurel went back to her room, showered and changed, and prepared to go out for her evening meal. She did not feel very hungry after her large lunch, so she stopped off at a fast-food restaurant and ordered a Cobb salad. By the time she returned to her apartment, she had started to feel slightly bored. Many of the attractions had closed for the season, even though the temperature was still in the eighties. Some were open only on weekends.
At sunset, Laurel walked out onto the balcony and leaned on the railing. It was very quiet except for the cries of seabirds and the pounding of the surf, some sixty yards away. A couple was strolling hand-in-hand along the shoreline. Watching them, she smiled wistfully. A lonely seagull sent out its plaintive cry as it passed overhead. The blackness of the sky was broken by a handful of twinkling stars and a crescent moon.
Laurel found herself humming the melody to Crashing Waves. On a sudden inspiration, she went inside and got her guitar. Then she returned to the balcony to sit on one of the chairs. With meticulous care, she began to pick out the chords to the song.
They were relatively simple, and it did not take long for Laurel to get the tune down pat. She had a pleasant singing voice and had already memorized the lyrics. Singing and strumming softly, she let the song roll out into the warm, gentle darkness. It blended melodically with the waves that rushed against the sandy shore.
Laurel felt her boredom vanish as she repeated Crashing Waves several times. She continued to play it until she could do it without thinking about the chords. Although the lyrics were romantic, they did not represent her present emotions. The rhythm had a certain sensuous pull, like the sea. She sang it again.
Crashing waves of the sea.
Rolling easy and free.
How you deaden the pain that is lodged in my brain;
Bring my love back to me.
Crashing waves on the shore.
Telling me life is more
Than a simple exchange of the common and strange
Things that I can’t ignore.
On the next balcony, a man sat quietly on his chair. A wall separated his balcony from Laurel’s. It was impossible for him to see the singer without leaning out over his railing. Feeling that would be an intrusion, he remained in his seat.
As Laurel continued to sing, the man listened. Her song struck a deep note within him. It embodied the essence of all his pain and loneliness. He thought the tears had long ago dried up within his soul, but they now reappeared to run silently down his face.
Long after Laurel had finished her music and gone back inside her room to watch television, the man continued to sit there, staring out into the blackness that his life had become. The waves would always roll in and out, but his love would return no more.
CHAPTER TWO
The next morning, Laurel awakened as the first filmy strands of dawn cast their light upon her drapes. At first it felt strange, waking up in a different bed and seeing the light coming from an unaccustomed direction. She put on her slippers and robe and then drew back the drapes.
Although she was still hazy with sleep, she could not help appreciating the beautiful scene she beheld. The sky was streaked with shades of lavender, pink, and orange. A number of early-rising fishermen were interspersed along the shoreline. Gentle waves lapped leisurely on the shoreline.
Laurel got her camera. After turning her bedroom chair to face the window, she sat down and waited for the sun to make its appearance. It was a special time of peace and solitude. Some fifteen minutes later, the sun made its appearance on the eastern horizon, turning the sea into a mass of rainbow-hued undulations.
Laurel carefully adjusted her camera and started taking pictures. She would have lingered at the window, but the thought of returning to the coziness of her bed was too tempting. After closing the drapes, she curled up under her blankets to enjoy a couple more hours of sleep.
This day turned out to be much like the last. Laurel breakfasted on a luscious Belgian waffle at the cafeteria. Afterwards, she went shopping at several of the
beach stores, and took advantage of some of their merchandise close-out sales. She also stopped to pick up some food at a local grocery store, so she could prepare some meals for herself in her apartment.
When she got back, Laurel made a sandwich for her lunch and then had a nice swim in the pool. Before she knew it, it was once again time for dinner. She had noticed a small Mexican restaurant one block away from her motel, so she decided to walk there. After that, the loneliness of another solitary evening yawned before her.
After taking a short walk up the beach, Laurel returned to her room. She glanced around and finally decided to play her guitar on the balcony once again. The motel appeared to be deserted, so she had little fear of disturbing anyone with her music. By this time, the night had descended with its velvety blackness.
Without thinking about it, she started to play Crashing Waves. Her features were dimly illuminated by the underwater lights of the pool. She glanced out at the ocean as she sang, timing the song with the waves.
When she finished singing, Laurel stopped for a moment to consider what she would like to play next. A man got up from one of the lounges on the side of the pool and approached her from out of the darkness. Laurel was startled when he suddenly appeared beneath her. He stopped beside her balcony, which was elevated three feet above ground level.
“I didn’t see you there,” Laurel apologized. “Was I disturbing you?”
“Not at all, “the man gravely replied. “I like that song you were playing. Is it new?”
“It was released about three weeks ago. Are you staying at this motel?”
The man said, “Yes,” and gestured toward his balcony, abutting hers.
“That makes us next-door neighbors. Will you be staying long?”
“For about two weeks.”
“What a coincidence. So am I.”
Laurel took a moment to look over this stranger. She could see that he was tall and had wavy, blond hair, but the darkness obscured his facial features.
