Dixie pulled at her lead, and I shook myself out of my thoughts. “Come on, girl. Let’s go inside. We can unpack and make some popcorn and cocoa! That huge sofa I saw is calling our names, and I have a book I can’t wait to start reading.” I sighed, feeling content—my idea of a perfect evening would now be enhanced with the muted sound of the ocean crashing on the sand and rocks. As we made our way toward the house, I heard a distant, eerie howl, deep within the forest. A shiver, icier than the sea, ran through me as I bent down and scooped up Dixie, remembering Karen’s warnings of wild animals in the forest.
“You, my girl, are staying on your lead while we’re here.” I nuzzled the top of her head, grinning as she turned and licked my face affectionately. “You’d make a tasty snack for one of those coyotes or wolves—whatever they are.” Another long, mournful howl had me shuddering as I hurried inside, putting Dixie in the guest room and shutting the door, so she was safe. Then, even though the howls were far in the distance, just to be safe, I turned on every outside light while I unpacked the car, grateful when it was done, and I could shut the back door firmly behind me.2MeganThe next morning, smiling and feeling less stressed, I swung my arms widely as I walked on the beach, marveling at the beauty stretched before me. It was still cold enough the sand was packed hard beneath my feet. Ahead of me, Dixie was running, stopping often to sniff and bark at whatever inanimate object drew her displeasure, making me laugh with the simple joy of watching her. It was early, the sun having come up a short time ago, the light casting multi-colored hues across the water and highlighting the sand. The sheer relief of last night had settled, leaving only elation behind. Lifting my arms, I twirled around, spinning until I was dizzy, and had to drop to the damp sand, amused at my own antics. Dixie jumped on top of me, licking my face, and I sat up, hugging her close. The wind lifted my hair away from my face and I tilted my head back, enjoying the sensation.
I closed my eyes and inhaled deep lungfuls of fresh air, listening to the sound of waves beating on the shoreline, the crying of gulls flying overhead and feeling the spray kicked up by the wind on my face.
Here, I hoped, I could find my calm. Surely, I could find it in me to write again, to put aside the past few weeks of terrible hurt and embarrassment—to find my feet and to continue forward. I opened my eyes and looked out over the vast expanse of water. There were no distractions here. No cameras or intruding phone calls prying into my once-private life, no threats from my ex-boyfriend, and no one telling me how disappointed they were with my betrayal. Standing up, I brushed off my pants and turned around. I looked back at the house, its clean lines even more evident in the light. Here I could work. Recover. Find my balance.
A distant bark had me turning my head. From the other end of the beach I spotted a dog, charging toward us. I picked up Dixie, unsure of the large creature lurching our way. As he got closer, I could see it was a golden retriever, his face friendly, tail wagging in excitement. I extended my hand, which was sniffed then licked before he turned a couple times, barking and whining in the back of his throat. I kneeled down while he and Dixie sniffed each other cautiously. Once I was sure he meant her no harm, I sat her back on the sand, where the two of them explored each other. I had to smile at them; one so large and excited, the other small and wary. He was very gentle with her, nudging her playfully with his great nose, licking her head. She looked at me as if to say “What?” then sat down between his great paws, letting him shower her with attention. I chuckled watching them—two instant friends.
I was startled as a whistle cut through the air from the end of the beach. A man was standing partway down on the stairs, which led to the beach from the house on the bluff, a dark overcoat billowing out behind him in the stiff breeze. The dog stood up right away and started running toward his master, who made no move in our direction. I raised my hand in a wave, thinking it would be a good time to go and introduce myself. There was no return salutation; he remained motionless on the stairs. I stepped forward a couple of feet, wondering if he hadn’t seen me, and waved again.