One More Day

It's as if the world has stopped spinning as she stands, radiant amongst the waves, the gentle current washing her feet as it is washing away her cares.

She turns and smiles as he watches her from the shore. It is as if she has never seen the ocean before, that far distant place he calls his home, and yet, there is something clearly so familiar to her, something that allows her to find peace in the sounds and smells that envelop her on that tiny patch of rough English sand.

His eyes are transfixed. That smile; that same, perfect smile he has known for so long, fills his heart with warmth, knowing that in their minds there is nothing but perfect love and perfect trust between them. Her long dark hair frames her porcelain face, her green eyes shine with unspoken affection, as the soft sunset behind her shimmers through her chiffon skirt, perfectly surrounding her with golden light as she skips through the waves with the glee of a child.

She turns to him again, and his eyes speak of a silent longing. She approaches, so slowly, still holding her long skirt to keep it dry, carefully scrunching her toes in the sand with every step, anxious to take in every possible element of the magical world around her on this most perfect day.

A pause. Their eyes meet; so close, so perfect. He can almost hear her heart beat as they stand alone, the sun hovering over the distant horizon, framing the world in a picture perfect glow. She turns towards the golden rays, lifting her face and feeling the warmth as it surrounds her like the stillness of a Summer's morning.

"You will leave me soon," she sighs, her voice soft, tinged with regret.

He feels the breeze against his face, and knows the ocean is calling him again, to what adventure, he cannot tell. He moves in closer, taking her gently around her slender waist, pulling her to him as he wearily rests his chin on her shoulder.

"Yes," he whispers back, "you know I must go."

She sighs again, resting against his strong chest, pressing her cheek to his as they stare across the waves.

"Tell me you love me," she breathes, her voice breaking, the tears welling in her eyes.

He hears the quiver in her voice, and responds. He gently turns her to face him, gazing into her green eyes with an affection only they can share. She is everything; his night, his day, his strength, his greatest weakness. How can he find the words to tell her how much she means to him?

He cannot. There is no word, no phrase, no expression, to frame her, to keep her, to hold her close in the way he needs her. He keeps her image, her perfumed scent, her touch, locked in his heart, even when he is over the seas and far from home. She is ever with him, and though they may not be together, they will never be apart.

She sees him, his golden Officer's buttons shimmering in the soft sunlight of dusk, his carriage proud, his caring nature unaffected by the death and destruction that so often surrounds him. He is her life, her love. Soon he will be gone, this she cannot prevent, nor would she try. She may be his love, but the sea is his mistress, and always would be; this she had accepted long ago, but though she accepts it, she will never understand it, and longs for nothing more than to hold him, to love him, here, now, and always.

They do not speak; words are not required. He smiles, their eyes locked as a single tear streaks her soft cheek in silence. He brushes it away gently, taking her face into his palm, tracing the line of her jaw with his rough sailor's hand.

"My darling," he whispers, his voice barely heard over the lapping waves, though in their world, there is no sound, no movement, no other living soul; nothing but these two hearts, sharing all they could ever know, together as one.

He pulls her to him, pressing his lips to hers, gently, so gently, feeling that same sweet rush he has always known from her touch, her kisses, her perfect body so close to him.

People pass, they stare, but these two hearts care not. Nothing can part them. Nothing but the wide blue ocean: the one place, the one thing that can snatch him away, perhaps never to return. This she knows, all too well, the faces of those sad widows, pale against the black of their mourning veils, standing alone before an empty grave ever in the back of her mind. Yes, he must go, this she knows; that one, shattering thought echoing through her as she slides her fingers through his dark hair and forces a smile through her tears.

"My dear, sweet William," she whispers, his name a quiet mantra, repeated in the corners of her mind over and over whenever they are apart.

He smiles in return, the passion welling within him. His embrace tightens around her waist. He needs her. He wants her. One more night, and she would be left behind…

He takes her hand, their fingers intertwined, gently leading her away from the shore to a place of time and privacy, but cannot help turning back.

The sea is calling him…


A/N: I guess that's what happens when you spend the entire day programming in XHTML and listening to Brahms Intermezzo in A Major. I am sure at least some of you know who this is, and who the woman is. Don't ask me where this came from - it just slipped into my mind and onto the page.

Thanks to Zen Lady, who forever etched the beautiful phrase "time and privacy" into my mind.

Love always...Miss Flossy.