Awake in Cheshire Bay

by H. M. Shander

  “There be issues with plane, and we needing accommodations. Point me to Bay Western?” He tapped the top listing on his piece of paper. “Is lovely day to walk.”

  The weather had cleared up quite nicely as it had been threatening to storm earlier.

  “Sure. Take the road out to the stop sign and turn right, following it around to the next stop sign. Then turn right and follow it to Turtle Crest Landing. Turn right…”

  His face scrunched in confusion.

  “You know what? Do you have Google maps?”

  They would lead him straight there. I punched in the name of the motel on my phone to show him. It was a good thirty-minute walk, but it wasn’t too bad. I scanned down his body and settled on his shoes. Those nicely polished wingtips were going to have a fine layer of dust on them by time he arrived. Cheshire Bay was rustic in its approach to paved roads – as in we didn’t have many aside from the main road in town. The rest were dirt and gravel, and our sidewalks weren’t any better.

  “Oh hell. I can drive you, then you won’t ruin your footwear.” The word fancy almost slipped out, but I managed to stop myself from blabbing it.

  “You are sure?”

  I sighed as I was anything but, however, warning bells weren’t going off, so I took it as a favourable sign. “Yeah, c’mon.” I grabbed my purse and keys from under the bar. “First, I’m going to turn my tracker on, so my friends know exactly where I’m going.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Yes, it was overkill, but I didn’t know this guy and there were a hundred different things that could go wrong. He could leave my phone on the side of the road and drive me to my death. Or he could kidnap me and hold me hostage. He could harm me in a million different ways.

  Or he could also be a decent guy who wasn’t out to get me. Sometimes, I needed to err on the side of trust.

  “Truck’s out back.”

  We walked around the front of the building, past the stairs leading up to my place. I wasn’t going to mention that of course. I stopped and tapped my key fob to unlock the truck. Before I opened my door, Mr. Welsh was there pulling it open for me.

  “Please, I insist.”

  “Okay, thank you.” I climbed into it, watching as he crossed in front of the vehicle and opened his side. I pulled the mountain of paperwork into the middle and shoved my key into the ignition as he settled himself and buckled up. The truck rumbled to life, and I put it into gear.

  As we drove, I pointed out the road leading to one of several lighthouses dotting the peninsula I lived on, past the school which housed grades kindergarten to grade twelve, and out onto the main road.

  “This road affectionately called Main Road, runs all the way north on this section of the island. In the middle, about twenty kilometres or so, there’s a little town called Stewart Surf. It’s even smaller than Cheshire Bay, like a population of two hundred I think, but it’s right on some of the best beaches in the world. If you like surfing, that’s a place to check out.”

  “I do not surf.”

  Yeah, he didn’t come across as a someone who slipped into a wet suit and paddled beyond the break point to ride the waves. Too bad. Surfing was super fun.

  “If you continue to follow the main road back all the way to the north, follow it past the entrance to the airport, you’ll end up in a larger town called Spirit Bay, which if there’s anything specific you require, they either have it or can order it in from Victoria or Vancouver, although the wait times are something else.”

  He was listening intently, leaning closer as I spoke.

  My mouth kept running off, mostly because the guy was making me nervous, but not in a bad way. Instead, I felt like I needed to share all about my beautiful village to the town’s newest guest. “At the farthest end of the highway, on the absolute tip of this peninsula, there’s a quiet little village called Kung Gadalayáay, which is Haida for Moon Bay. They have whale watching expeditions and some of the best places to watch the moon set into the ocean.”

  “I do like whale watching.”

  Finally, something. I smiled as I pulled onto Turtle Crest Landing. “It’s a lot of fun, isn’t it? Haven’t gone in years though.”

  “Why not?” He tipped his head to the side and studied me. It was a little unnerving to be such a focus of attention.

  I shrugged but avoided eye contact. “No time, really. I run my own business so it’s very demanding and by time the busy tourist season is over, the whales have already passed by.”

  “That is unfortunate.”

  “It is what it is.”

  One of several bays along the west coast was visible from the top of the hill we crested.

  “The motel is coming up on our left and if you’re still up for a walk after you’ve checked in, there’s a path just behind and you can follow it along the embankment all the way over to a lighthouse. Friends of mine just got engaged there a couple of weeks ago.”

  “It is of a romantic nature, this walk?”

  I laughed. “No, not at all. It was for them. They had their first date there or something like that. It’s well used by townsfolk and tourists alike, and the lighthouse at the end doesn’t work anymore, so anyone can walk up and check it out.”

  A lot of daredevils also got frisky there too, or so I heard via town gossip.

  I drove down the hill and turned into the parking lot, stopping just outside the office door. “Well, here you go. They’ll take great care of you inside.”

  “Thank you. You have been most helpful.”

  “My pleasure.” I leaned on my steering wheel.

  He opened the door and slid onto the pavement. “Forgive for being forward, as I do not know you, but you have plans this evening?”

  I had a stack of paperwork to get through, but nothing pressing. My friends were busy and once the airport situation was under control, I was sure they’d rather go home. I shook my head.

  He hung off the open door. “Path behind here, it is long?”

  “A couple of kilometers, if that. Nice and leisurely walk, packed dirt though.”

  “If I can handle that, care to join? You can send location to friend.” He pointed to the phone I had resting in its holder on my dash. It was hard to argue with his logic, and even harder to resist the charming grin on the edges of his lips.

  I listened for the warning chime of bells… nothing. They were radio silent. Swallowing, I nodded. “You’re on.”

  Chapter Three

  What the hell was I doing agreeing to go on a walk with this strange guy? Someone needed to lock me up and throw away the key. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t the type of person to throw caution to the wind and go with my gut. Every action was well thought out and perfectly executed, especially over the past few years.

  I couldn’t afford to be careless.

  “All booked?”

  He strutted over with the confidence of a thousand men. “Yes. Three rooms, and one on end. Ocean view. Thank you.”

  “Yeah, no prob.” I kicked at a pebble in the gravel and threw my gaze away from him out over to the bay.

  The sun was inching out from under the heavy blanket of clouds, peeking between the gaps. It felt like it had been days since I’d seen it last.

  Mr. Welsh stepped a little closer, blocking my view. “You hungry?”

  My stomach rumbled a reminder of exactly how much I was. I hadn’t eaten since before lunch, and it was approaching the supper hour. “I suppose I could eat.” I shrugged casually, seeing as there wasn’t any harm in dining with this stranger. “Sure, why not?”

  “How this to eat?” He pointed to the diner attached to the motel.

  Rumours around town stated the place was the number one cause for food poisoning.

  I shook my head, my curls fanning out with the motion. “I’m not one to throw anyone under the bus, but I’d avoid it. There are better places up the road.”

  “I follow your lead.” He came to stand beside me.

  “First, can I ask you somethin
g?”

  He looked down on me, not because he was being rude but because he was just that tall standing next to me. I was of average height, but he made me feel short in comparison.

  “What is your first name? If I’m going for dinner with a guy, I at least like to know his name.” A fluttery sensation filled my stomach, one that had nothing to do with hunger.

  A light-hearted laugh, complete with a tipping back of his head, greeted me. “I go by Tony to most.”

  “And to others?” I assessed the hesitation in his dark blue eyes. “It’s okay, you don’t need to answer.”

  “Antonio.”

  “Antonio.” I repeated back, the syllables rolling nicely over my lips. “It’s a pleasure meeting you.”

  For some reason, he totally suited his name, and I couldn’t picture him being a Johanne or Marcello or anything else. The name fit the accent.

  “I like it.” The smile bubbling out of me was genuine, and I tipped my head down to hide it. Seriously, why was I suddenly reduced to a wild-eyed teenager?

  He waved for me to start walking. “Where you eat?”

  “Mostly at home, but there’s a nice grill up the hill a bit. We passed by it.”

  “Why you not go out?”

  I tossed my hands out to the side, narrowly missing his right arm. “It’s really just a time constraint. And my friends are busy, so if I’m going to eat alone, I may as well stay home and binge the latest Netflix with it.”

  “I see.” He kept pace, but never stepped ahead, and always walked on the outside portion of the sidewalk.

  The walk uphill didn’t take too long, and we arrived. A strong smell of bar-be-que made my stomach growl, but hopefully Antonio didn’t hear it. If he did, he gave no indication.

  “Hey, Susan,” I said as I approached the hostess station. “Table for two.”

  She ran her gaze up and down my dinner date, and I didn’t blame her one bit. The tall guy with thick wavy dark hair, and a strong jawline was exceptionally easy on the eyes. “Patio?”

  After scanning the dining room, I spun to face up to Antonio. “Do you want to eat outside? There’s no view, but the stares may be less.”

  “Yes, fine.”

  Susan led the way, and Antonio’s hand tenderly grazed my lower back as we wound our way through the restaurant. My breath quickened and held in my chest for a heartbeat. But it was more than just Antonio. It was the familiar faces of the locals checking out the mysterious man beside me, and then doing a double take to me. Of course, the contrast between Antonio and I was like night and day, and had I been in their shoes, I probably would’ve done the same.

  Susan sat us near the edge of the patio, where only one other table had guests.

  The rocky outcropping from the embankment was our view. It wasn’t much to take it, but my dinner companion had the deck stacked in that regard.

  After handing us our menus, Susan disappeared, likely to add fuel to the gossip. Sometimes this town was too much to take.

  A waiter, one I wasn’t familiar with, appeared at our table. “Can I get you anything from the bar?” He asked Antonio first.

  “A bottle of finest red.”

  The waiter nodded and disappeared.

  “I hope you’re not expecting much in the wine department. If you want good wines, I can direct you to a vineyard a couple of hours drive away.”

  “I sure whatever he brings,” he paused and bobbed his head, “will be suitable.”

  I stifled my laugh, but let it slide. I wasn’t a wine connoisseur per se and only ordered a few bottles from the local vineyards for the bar. My customers all accepted that, as the majority weren’t there for fine wines anyway, they came for the hard stuff; whiskeys, rums, and wild selection of vodkas. You name it, I probably had it.

  “Antonio, is it okay if I call you that?” I rested my forearms on the edge of the table.

  He ran his fingers over his scruff, as if mocking me with a thoughtful gaze. “That is fine.”

  “Great, so Antonio, what do you do for a job?”

  Yep, I was going to dive headfirst and not check the depth of the water.

  He mirrored my pose. “I am…” His gaze darted around enough I worried he was part spy or something. “Real estate… how do you say? …” He paused again, enough that it had me questioning if English wasn’t recently learned. “Developer.”

  “Oh.” Well, that wasn’t exciting. However, the way he dressed, walked, and talked, I would’ve pegged him for some corporate mogul or something way higher up on the financial food chain. “Cool. I’m sure you would see many interesting places.”

  “Ja.”

  I picked up the menu and gave it a solid scan. Even though I’d been to the Grill a million times before, I still perused the choices. And like every time before, I settled on the boring standby of a grilled chicken wrap. I was so predictable that way.

  “Did you decide on anything?”

  He set his menu down as our waiter appeared with a bottle and two glasses. He twisted off the cap, and I lowered my head in embarrassment. The management here didn’t even spring for corked wine. Yikes. The server poured a little into a glass and gave it to Antonio, who took a taste.

  “Dry, but good.”

  The server poured two glasses and passed one to me. “Are you ready to order?”

  We both nodded, and two pair of eyes settled on me. Guess I was ordering first.

  “Okay, I’ll have the Chicken Caesar wrap, easy on the dressing, with fries and a side of gravy. Please.”

  The waiter turned to Cheshire Bay’s most mysterious guest.

  “The bacon-wrapped tenderloin.” Antonio pointed to the item.

  “Mashed or fries.”

  “Mashed?” He sounded unsure.

  “With the works, or just sour-cream?”

  He looked at me before turning to the waiter. “The works?”

  “That’s sour cream, chives, and cheddar cheese.” I answered his questioning gaze.

  “Ja, that.”

  The waiter nodded as he wrote it all down and tucked everything back into the pocket of his apron before stepping over to the nearby patio heater. “Are you cold? I can increase the heat.”

  “I’m fine.” Surprisingly, I wasn’t cold at all, and the temperature was perfect for me.

  “I good.”

  The waiter disappeared back into the restaurant.

  Antonio picked up his wine glass and lifted it toward me. “To new friendships.”

  “To new friendships.” I lifted my glass and clinked it against his.

  His phone rang, interrupting our mini celebration.

  “Forgive, ma’am. Excuse.” He rose and answered, speaking in clipped and foreign sentences.

  Whatever language he spoke, I couldn’t figure it out. It may have been Italian, but it could’ve been Spanish for all I knew. None of it sounded familiar. While he paced behind me, I sipped at my wine.

  “Apologies, ma’am.”

  “Just Amber. No ma’am needed.”

  “My captain call. The plane is adjusted.”

  I scanned the area, before settling back on my handsome dinner date. “What does that even mean?”

  He drummed his long fingers on the table and narrowed his eyes in deep concentration. “How do you say… The plane off the belly.”

  “Ah, the landing gear is down now?”

  “Ja.” He nodded and ran his hand through his thick hair, pushing it off his forehead and exposing a hint of a widow’s peak.

  “And it’ll be ready to fly?”

  “No.” He took a casual sip of wine and stretched out in his chair. “New plane arrive tomorrow. I have morning meeting in Seattle.”

  A new plane was arriving to pick him up? Who was this guy? And what kind of a meeting did he have warranting an immediate departure by morning? I couldn’t imagine much, but thinking of real estate development, maybe he was buying land? I had no idea. As long as it wasn’t here.

  Cheshire Bay was a small to
wn with no chains or franchises, and every place was locally owned. It added to charm and ambiance of the sea-side village. The nationally known places were in Stewart Surf, or more so in Spirit Bay. My beautiful town had been untouched by corporate greed, although sometimes an influx of cash wouldn’t hurt to help update the buildings. However, that’s what summer was for, and tourists were always welcome.

  “You’ll have to make sure to have a good time here then, tell your friends to come and visit in the summer.” I pressed the wine glass to my lips, chastising myself for always being an ambassador to our village. It was crazy how much I loved it here, despite the gossip mill, and small town mentally.

  He ran a long finger along the edge of his wine glass while locking his gaze onto me. “Tell me, what is fun times here?”

  “There is so much. Lots of trails, nice easy walks. Lighthouses to see, two working, one not. There’s the wharf where the boats dock for the night or the week, and some really big ones like yachts. There are plenty of excursions and many activities to fill your time. Or you can hang out on one of the local beaches and watch the sun set.”

  Corked or not, the wine was hitting me as I was rambling. It was possible I may have misjudged the contents by its bottle. My glass went down fairly fast, even though I was trying to nurse it. Antonio’s did as well and by time our food came around, we’d already finished a bottle, and I was spewing all sorts of little-known facts about Cheshire Bay. It should’ve been embarrassing, but Antonio seemed to be taking it all in.

  He tapped the wine as the waiter walked by. “Another, please.”

  As the conversation flowed freely, my mystery guest inquired what the weather was like. Yes, we were a coastal village with heat and sunshine and ocean breezes in the summer, and more rain than snow in the winter, but there was a beauty in it all, to the point where I couldn’t imagine living in a metropolis on the mainland.

  Try as I may though, Mr. Welsh was tight-lipped about the weather where he was from, so I was unsuccessful in getting any personal information out of him and he was exceptionally good at dodging the questions. Too good. What’s up with that?