Cristina awoke to the sun streaming in from the large windows. She got up and stretched. She only half-believed she was there in this beautiful house by the sea and not her tiny apartment in Brooklyn. She flung open the balcony doors and breathed in the sea air. In that instant, she decided to take a run on the beach. She changed into jogging gear and slipped out of the house. There was still an early morning chill in the air but she warmed up when she started running. It was a good run and she made the mental note that she would run every morning on the beach, while she was there. She made it back to the house, took a warm shower and headed downstairs for breakfast.
Mr. Hunt was already down in the kitchen, waiting for her. Joyce had been surprised to see him at the kitchen table. She usually brought up his breakfast to his room. She knew that he was making the effort because of the presence of the young lady. Joyce decided to do a breakfast with crepes, ham and eggs, along with coffee and orange juice and fruit on the side.
"Good morning," Cristina said. "I am sorry, were you waiting for me?"
"Yes," Owen said. "I was wondering where you were. I did knock on your door on my way down."
"I took a run on the beach," she responded. "It was exhilarating."
"I used to do that before the accident," Owen said, wistfully. "But I haven't been down to the beach, since I came home from the hospital, a couple of months ago. I am afraid if I go out there, I won't be able to find my way back to the house."
"Oh, that's too bad," she said. "Anytime, you wish to go out to the beach, I will take you. You live next to this beautiful beach and you should be able to enjoy it. I am sure that was one of the reasons you bought this house."
"Yes," he admitted. "I miss going out there. So you're willing to do that for me? Remember I am blind and I might be a little burdensome out there."
"Of course, I will," she declared. "Anytime."
"Even at night?" he asked, half-jokingly. "Sure," she said. "We just have to carry a flashlight and also depend on the moonlight but it could be fun. Maybe we can go out one evening and build a bonfire out on the beach."
"Ooh, a bonfire. I do like the sound of that," he said. It seemed that having young Miss Yang in the house was going to be quite a treat.
"Oh, by the way, I was wondering whether you wanted to start working on the book. I know I will be working odd hours because creativity isn't something that comes during set working hours. So, if you want to start today, that will be good with me," she said.
"Okay, that is good. Since I knew you were coming, I started tape-recording some of my ideas," he said, as he dug into his pants pocket and pulled out a recorder. "They were just some ideas I had. I trust that you read the first part of the manuscript."
"Yes," she told him. "I read it and it was fantastic." He smiled at her enthusiastic praise. She continued, "I am so honored to be part of finishing the second half."
"May I ask, Miss Yang, did you volunteer to come to Maine to work with me? Or were you hand-picked by Phyllis?" he asked. "You can be honest if you didn't really want to come here."
"Oh, actually, Mrs. Dolan called me in and told me that she had a special assignment for me. She told me that I could turn it down, if I decide that it would be too much of a disruption on my life, since I was told that I would be moving to Maine, for a couple of months. I almost turned it down but when I heard that I would be working for you, I jumped at the chance. How often does someone like me get a chance to work with someone like you? Like almost never," she said. "So here I am."
"Thank you for telling me this," he said. "I wouldn't want to work with someone, who doesn't want to be here."
"Oh, I do want to be here. However, Mrs. Dolan warned me that you've become rather prickly in your disposition and you may not be easy to work with," she said. "But so far, I haven't seen any of that."
"Oh, Phyllis told you that, did she?" he said, shaking his head. "Hmmm. I think you should make up your own mind about me, Miss Yang."
"I will," she said. "So far, it has been good, Mr. Hunt. So you haven't answered my question, do you want to work today, even though it is a Sunday?"
"Yes," he said. "We can do so. I am just full of ideas, right now. So after breakfast?"
She nodded. Then, she remembered he wouldn't see her nodding. "Yes, that will be fine," she answered.
So after partaking in Joyce's hearty breakfast, they headed to the study to start work. He handed her the tape recorder and she played it to listen to his thoughts about the structure and flow of the second half of the book plus the conclusion he had planned. After they listened to the entire recording, she gasped, "That ending was brilliant. I am so proud to be part of the next adventure of super secret spy, Alex Newland. I have been reading your books all through college. You are one of my favorite authors ever."
"I am?" he said, pleased that she said that. "Of course you are," she replied. "That's one of the reasons why I took this assignment."
"So, let's get to work," he said. He started dictating while Cristina typed his words. She would stop and read it back for him, then they would make changes. She would offer suggestions that were sharp and incisive. He now understood why Phyllis had chosen the girl to assist him. "Yeah," he agreed. "That sounded better." The time flew so fast that they hadn't realized that hours had passed. It was about 1 p.m. that Joyce had come to the study and asked if they were not going to have lunch.
"Yes," Owen said. "We're coming, now. I am famished. It was such a good morning's work." Cristina offered him her arm and they walked together to the kitchen. After lunch, they returned to the study and continued to work. They were being so productive. Owen wondered why Phyllis had not suggested this, sooner. He really was starting to feel better about everything. Phyllis had been right. Once he had started writing and getting the creative juices flowing again, it was helping to brighten his whole outlook on his life.
Around 6 p.m., Joyce showed up and told them that dinner was ready. They were both exhausted from their long day but it was a happy kind of exhaustion that they had actually managed to accomplish so much. They sat at the dining table and were having their dinner, when Owen decided to ask Cristina about her own aspirations as a writer.
She felt shy to talk about it but he encouraged her to talk about it. "I think my writing is probably targeted to the Young Adults market. I have been writing this book for the past year, at night when I come home from Meteor in the evenings. I have other obligations, so sometimes it is hard to get the time to write."
"If you like, you could read some of your work to me," he said. "I will let you know what I think."
"Really?" she said. "But I am not sure. Suppose it is really bad."
"I seriously doubt that. Don't you have a Master's degree in Creative Writing? Where from?" he asked.
"NYU," she said. "That is a top-notch program," he said. "If you could graduate from there, I am sure your work is really good. So, don't be shy. We will set aside a time for me to listen to your work."
"Okay," she said. "We'll do that." As they finished their dinner and dessert, he asked, "I guess we're done for the day. Would you like to take me for a walk on the beach?"
"Sure," she said. "I would love to go for a walk. Help me work out all these calories I have been consuming all day." They changed their shoes and put on light sweaters, as they headed out the back door to the beach.
"Do you want to hold my arm or hold my hand?" she asked. "Your hand," he said. She placed her small hand into his much larger one as they continued on their way. She pointed out when there were undulations in the sand, so he could be aware. It had been a long time, since he was out there on the beach. He could smell the ocean air and the soft sea breeze hitting him on the face. In his mind's eye, he could still see the water and the waves lapping on the shore.
"Do you want to run in the water?" she asked. He nodded. He kicked off his shoes and rolled up his pants legs. She kicked off her shoes, too. Then, she led him to the water's edge and as they walked through the water.
"A little cold," he said. "But that's okay. I haven't felt the ocean under my feet in a long time." Their toes sunk into the damp sand as they walked. They were only about two or three people on the beach with them. A couple passed and the woman said, "Good evening. Lovely evening, isn't it?"
"Yes," Owen answered. "The sky looks fantastic." As they passed the couple, Cristina asked, "How did you know that about the sky? It really is fabulous. There are lots of pink and orange."
"That's because I know what the sky looks like at this time of the year," he said. "It was a good guess. They probably don't even know that I am blind."
"Probably not," she said. "You know there is a lot of driftwood on the beach. Maybe we can use that when we do our bonfire."
"That would be nice," he said. "Maybe we can roast marshmallows, too."
"Yes," she said. "Roasted marshmallows like we used to do at camp. Maybe we can even make s'mores. That would be a whole lot of fun. Gotta plan, though. We would need supplies."
"Oh, just ask Joyce. She will get whatever we need from the store," he said.
"I think we should head back," Cristina said. "It's getting darker and I need to find our shoes."
"Okay," he laughed. They walked back, found their shoes, dusted the sand off their feet and put their shoes back on before making the trek back up to the house.
As they stepped into the house, Joyce screamed, "No sandy shoes on my floors. Take those shoes off and leave them outside on the patio. I will get all of the sand off." Cristina and Owen took off their shoes and did what they were told, as they made their way barefoot to their bedrooms. Cristina went into her bedroom, stripped off her clothes and went in for a luxurious bath. She almost fell asleep but was startled by the ringing of her phone. She reluctantly got out of the warm water, dried off a bit and then, grabbed her phone. She looked at the screen; it was her mother.
"Hey, mom," she said. "How are things?"
"Things are not going well at the moment," Helen Yang said. "Can you hear him?" Cristina listened to the sound of her son screaming and crying in the background.
"Yes, what is the matter with Logan?" Cristina asked. Logan was staying with her mom in her childhood home in Westchester.
"He won't go to bed until he talks to you," Helen said. "Logan, I have your momma on the phone. Come." Cristina heard the patter of her son's feet.
Logan's small voice came on the phone, "Mommy." His crying had subsided, now that he was talking to his mommy.
"Yeah, baby it is me," Cristina told the three year old boy. "Are you giving grandma trouble?"
"No," Logan said. "When are you coming home, mommy? I miss you."
"I know, baby. But mommy has got to work, so you can have food and toys," she said. "You don't have a daddy, so mommy has to work to take care of you. So you can't give grandma any trouble."
"Sing yullaby," he said. "Okay," Cristina said. "I will sing Lullaby and then you will go to sleep." She started singing, "Lullaby and good night, with roses bedight….." She sang the whole song for him.
As she finished the song, it seemed to have calmed down Logan. Her mom came back on the phone. "Okay, that seemed to have work. So how are things going with Mr. Hunt?" Helen asked.
"Great, Mrs. Dolan made me think he was some ogre but he has been pretty amazing, so far and he is such a brilliant writer, mom," Cristina said. "Anyway, I guess you could put Logan to bed, now. I will talk to you guys, tomorrow."
"Bye, Cristina," Helen said. As she hung up the phone, Cristina lay back on her bed. She had taken this assignment not only to work with Mr. Hunt but because Mrs. Dolan was also going to make extra payments such as a relocation fee and another payment , which she coined as a hazard fee for having to deal with prickly Mr. Hunt. She laughed at that thought. He didn't seem to be that way. She already admired him but now, she was starting to really like him.
She thought about her son, Logan, with his curly golden brown hair and light brown eyes. He was the image of his father. She had him just after graduation. His dad was her college boyfriend, Marcus, who had died in a car accident, just before graduation. They were going to get married after graduation but he had died before that could happen. He never even saw his baby born. Since then, her mother was her rock. She had helped to take care of Logan, while she attended the master's program at NYU. Being away from Logan was extremely hard but she had to do it to be able to provide for him.
There was a knock on her door. She quickly grabbed her robe before she went to answer the door. It was Mr. Hunt. She realized she could have been naked and he would not have known. "Mr. Hunt," she said. "How can I help you?"
"I was wondering," he said. "If we could drop the formalities and stop it with the Mr. Hunt and Miss Yang. You call me Owen and I'll call you Cristina. Is that okay with you?"
"Yeah, that is fine," she said. "Good night, Owen."
"Good night, Cristina," he said. She watched him as he returned to his room. What she didn't see was the huge smile on his face.
A/N Please leave your comments and reviews. I really do appreciate when you take the time to do so.