Again, a bit late to the 30 Days of OTP party; however, better late than never.
All 30 of these short stories are intertwined in the same universe throughout the year and can be spliced along with my other story And No One Dared. Thank you again for reading!
"Is there a particular reason you want to go to the beach?" Helena's glaring at me, wondering if I've gone completely insane as I sling a backpack over my shoulder. "It is October and windy."
She clings to her Styrofoam cup of coffee as we walk over impressive dunes down towards the water. I simply smile at her and grasp her available hand as we walk down a wooden staircase towards the finely sanded beach. "C'mon, this isn't Dover, you'll be fine."
At the bottom of the stairs, I take off my socks and sneakers and encourage Helena to do the same. We toss everything into a plastic bag and trudge along with cool sand wedging itself between our toes.
There is no one else on the beach. It's desolate, quiet and bright out for an October afternoon after Columbus Day. The two of us have discovered that we enjoy going to well-visited locales in the off-season when we can have an entire venue, park or beachfront, in this case, to ourselves. I look at our feet and see that our footprints are the only ones in the sand; that is, the only human footprints as there are a few imprints from small birds and seagulls.
When we find an appropriate spot well away from the staircase with dry sand, no pointy shells and no dingy washed up seaweed, I stop and open the backpack to take out a little red blanket to spread out on the sand.
"So that's why you nicked that from the plane."
"I did not nick it. Okay, I suppose I did, but I'll return it on the way home." I say as I spread out the blanket. Helena holds up her hand above her eyes and squints out at the ocean. The blueish/green water rolling in against the shore is calming and she watches the each wave gently crash. She is still staring out at the water and taking sips of coffee when I sit down and stretch out my legs. When I pat the space next to me, she turns around sees me seated, soon following my lead.
I put my arm around her waist and she makes a little groove in the sand for her precious cup of coffee. When done, she reaches for my hand and holds it, toying with the ring around my finger. Helena is always fiddling with some object or another, this time it's my ring. She looks at my hand, smiling at the memory of when she gave it to me that Christmas Eve and how surprised I had been. It's our second trip to the East Coast this year due to a ping in Upstate New York. Since Claudia had been with us, she was able to take the artifact back to the Warehouse and we decided to take a well-earned vacation, which has inadvertently led us here to the Cape.
"Did you happen to see the name of where we are?"
"Marconi Beach. Peculiar name for a beach."
"It is named for Guglielmo Marconi. There was a telegraph station just north of us where the first wireless Transatlantic message was sent, so the beach here was named for him."
"Is that so?" Helena leans her head towards my shoulder, nibbling and kissing any bare skin she finds. I easily lose my train of thought as her lips explore my neck and I grip her hand tighter.
My wife is here, holding my hand as we look out at the sunset, we are madly in love and thousands of miles away from cases, pings and inventory back in South Dakota. The beach is serene, the sea air refreshing and the company absolutely perfect. It's the late afternoon, in the fall, in New England on a sunny, clear day and it's perfect.