Late Summer, 1964
This heat is nearly unbearable, Shelagh thought as she pushed the mop across the kitchen floor. Damp tendrils of hair that had escaped from her efficient twist curled at her nape and temples. She reached up to brush a few strands away from her face while counting the minutes until she could take a break. Of course she was determined to finish mopping the kitchen floor, fold the last load of laundry and then dust the sitting room so she could truly enjoy the rest. If all went according to plan she would be left with about an hour before the children returned. The late afternoon sun was just starting to slant across the patio windows and yet she heard the purr of an engine which was surely Patrick arriving home.
"Shelagh," he called as he came through the door, "I was able to beg off early, this heat is stifling!"
She turned to see him stride into the kitchen looking as wilted as she felt. Raising an eyebrow, she commented, "Perhaps the weather calls for one of your linen suits?"
"Yes," he acknowledged, "I should let you pull one out of storage for me. That will likely be the only way I will get through tomorrow." Looking around, he asked, "Is everyone still out?"
"They are, Timothy is at the library doing research, remember? And the little ones stayed on at nursery for the late session; they were offering water playtime as a respite from the heat."
"Just as well," he winked as he handed her the brown paper bag he had brought in with him.
"What's this?" she asked, "a gift from a patient?"
"No," he said mischievously, "since this heat has me pining for California sea breezes, I thought I'd make us a cocktail and we could at least enjoy that particular Sea Breeze in a back garden in Poplar."
Opening the bag, she pulled out a bottle of clear liquid, "So you stopped at the off-license…"
"Quite right!" Patrick continued, "Our family's juice repertoire has expanded since we visited the States, therefore I know we have the requisite cranberry and grapefruit."
He was proud of himself, Shelagh noted and wondered what else he was up to.
Answering her unspoken question he added, "While I change out of this blasted suit, can you put a few hors d'oeuvres together?"
"Patrick," she shook her head at him and gestured around her, "I'm in the middle of my house chores!"
"Shelagh," he smiled crookedly, tilting his head in the way that made his fringe fall over his forehead. "Just for this afternoon, I'm taking you back to California…"
She sighed and shook her head again, even as she tried unsuccessfully to stifle a grin. He knew she couldn't resist him when he looked at her that way, nor could she deny him his romantic gesture.
"Nothing fancy," he kissed her quickly on the cheek. "Pretend we're on holiday," he called as he bounded up the stairs to their bedroom.
She thought for a moment before taking out some small dishes, then found nuts, olives, and a fresh packet of crackers. While quickly slicing some cheese she heard Patrick make his way back down to the first floor. Looking up, she intended to ask him to fetch a tray from the high shelf but was startled speechless by his attire.
He stood with his arms outstretched, clearly pleased with his choice of the cabana shirt and bathing trunks he had worn on their seaside holiday.
Smirking at her bewildered response, he added, "You have your own bathing costume as I recall, I suggest you put it on while I see to the drinks."
Blushing, she demurred, "Patrick, is that really necessary?"
"Absolutely!" he replied, waggling his eyebrows at her. "I'll meet you in the back garden."
Still flushed, she started up the stairs then glanced back to find him watching her with a wide, encouraging smile. Ducking her head she scurried up the last few steps.
Once upstairs she stood in front of the bathroom mirror, removing the pins from her disheveled hair. As she brushed it smooth and pinned it up again, she let her mind return to Bonita Beach. It had been just over a month since they returned from America and she replayed their visit in her mind: their gracious new friends, the work they had accomplished, the beautiful scenery. Now Patrick was downstairs, mixing a cocktail that somehow brought her immediately back to that seaside paradise of fresh salty air and a chilled glass.
Their introduction to iced drinks had begun almost as soon as they arrived in America. It was a foreign concept that they quickly found enjoyable right alongside the Bartlett's nightly ritual of the cocktail hour. Sitting outside in the warm front garden, Professor Bartlett cheerfully handed them a Sea Breeze on the first night after they had recovered from their jet lag. It soon became their signature Bonita Beach beverage: light, refreshing and boasting citrus fruit from sunny southern California. Clever of Patrick to think of it today, it might just be the perfect escape from the reality of this sweltering heat.
Moving to the cupboard she eventually located her yellow two piece bathing costume. Pausing with it in her hands, she realised she hadn't ever expected to wear it here in Poplar, and truthfully, putting it on now felt a bit silly. Then again, she had made the purchase in response to Patrick's interest in the suit and the memory of the appreciation in his eyes on Bonita Bay quickly banished every bit of her hesitation.
Descending the stairs she heard the Beach Boys singing Wouldn't it Be Nice; Patrick must have put Tim's album on the record player. His face lit up as she walked into the garden, "That's my California girl," he smiled. The snacks and their cocktails were already set up on the patio table and when he made a show of offering her a chair, she blushed again at his attentiveness.
Handing her a glass, and then raising his own, he proposed a toast, "To my beautiful wife!"
"Oh, Patrick," she laughed, then took her first sip, delighting in the cool temperature of the drink and the sound of the ice cubes tinkling softly against the glass. The tart yet refreshing flavor was a welcome antidote to this weather. Setting the glass on the table, she closed her eyes and relaxed into her chair.
"Do you feel like you're in California?" Patrick asked softly.
"Almost," she sighed, eyes still closed. "I doubt there's any moving air out here and yet I'm certain I just felt a sea breeze." Opening her eyes again she smiled at him. "That was a wonderful day on Bonita Bay, Patrick, thank you for this reminder."
"But isn't this even better?" he grinned. "It's just the two of us…" The song changed on the record and Surfer Girl began playing. Patrick reached for her hand, "Would you like to dance?"
Stepping into his embrace she leaned into him as his arm encircled her. Resting her head on his chest she felt his fingers move lightly back and forth over the exposed skin of her waist. "We couldn't do this on Bonita Bay," he murmured in her ear.
"No," she teased, "that would have been quite inappropriate." She looked up into his eyes and he moved a hand to the back of her neck, his fingers slid into her hair and he kissed her, gently at first and then more intently. His mouth was cold from the iced cocktail and she shivered, enjoying the sensation, and pressed her body more closely against his.
Several kisses later, he pulled back to brush his nose against hers. "I did, however, have the pleasure of applying your suncream. I must say I'm a little disappointed you don't need any today." Instead his fingers massaged her neck before continuing across her shoulders until she exhaled a soft sigh of delight. He paused for a moment, then eased the strap off of her right shoulder.
"Patrick…" she warned, narrowing her eyes at him.
"Not out here then?" he whispered.
"No," she stated primly, in contrast to her heated complection.
Smiling lovingly at her, he led her back to the table. Picking up his drink, he took a long sip, then gestured for her to take her own glass. "Come upstairs, my love, I think our bedroom could benefit from a little California sea breeze."
She responded with a flirtatious giggle, then feeling his tug on her hand, accepted his invitation and let him lead the way.
-end
A/N: Happy Birthday, ginchy-amanda!