The sun sank lower on the horizon, casting an orange glow over Seattle. Another day was slowly winding down, preparing to take with it the last rays of sunshine. It was uncommonly peaceful for the city, the noises usually emitted had stifled in respect for the setting sun. Or so it seemed to the solitary figure striding gracefully down the boardwalk.
Her sandals sounded lightly on the wooden planks as her eyes appraised the view she held so dear. Pier fifty was home to several weatherbeaten boats, the barnacles which roosted on it’s pylons, and the incredible panoramic scene that was the Puget Sound. It was of the city, yet set apart. And it was here, to this special place, she came.
The bench which welcomed her presence nearly every evening, gave her rest, and the relaxing lull of the Sound gave her respite. Perching carefully on the ancient length of board, the woman let a pent up sigh escape her as she surrendered herself to the symphony of the Pacific. After several moments, she gazed down into her lap, tearing her eyes away from the gently rolling waves which lapped insistently at the dock. In her hands lay a letter, which she opened with care.....
“Dearest Friend,
I have come to the conclusion that I am indeed a hopeless romantic. I have not been able to stop myself from addressing my letters to you in this way. It has become a habit, and a most pleasant one at that. Make no mistake, it is a term of endearment which never fails to remind me of the depth and beauty of our relationship. For this and a million other reasons, I miss you.
I hope, as always, that this envelope finds it’s way safely into your hands, and that your hands receive it with love. For that is how I write to you. Your face doesn’t leave my mind for a single minute throughout the day. You’re always here with me in my heart. It’s your smile I remember so affectionately. The way you used to hold my hand with both of yours, leading me to the next adventure in the beautiful city you call home. When I close my eyes to sleep, your own blue orbs haunt my dreams, making each moment we spend apart that much more painful. But it’s a bittersweet pain, because each hour that passes brings our reunion nearer. I can hardly wait to feel your lips on mine.
I am writing to you from Paris, the city of love. Everywhere I turn, I wish you could be here with me, enjoying the rich culture of this place. I know how much you long to see the world, and I promise....someday I’ll give it to you. For now, this will have to do. It floated down to me from the boughs above, as I sat in a small a la carte cafe on the outskirts of the city. It landed on the back of my hand, brushing my skin as softly as I remember your touch. When I saw it, I knew immediately that I must send it to you, for it reminds me of the way your hair looks in the fading light of the sunset.
Forever Yours,
~Howie”
From the the fold in the letter fell a single amber toned leaf. It’s tiny edges were cleanly cut, multi-colored veins visible against the surface. Closer inspection revealed the memento to be preserved in clear lacquer with a gold clasp placed at the stem. It was a pendant, which the woman turned over in her hands time and again. Gently enfolding the token of love in her palm, she rose from the bench, holding her fist closely to her chest, the letter firmly in hand.
As the last beams of sun began to fade behind the hills, twilight descended upon Seattle. The waves continued to wash gently against the pier, nature’s voice seemingly murmuring one man’s name over and over. She left as silently as she had come, in no hurry to return home to the loft which awaited her. Chemelyn walked away reluctantly, feeling closer to her lover here, than in any other spot in the city.
*****
“Shaving kit.....shaving kit......” Howie muttered to himself as he scurried around his stylish condo in Orlando, desperately trying to keep himself from forgetting something. There was nothing to stop him now; only a mere eight hours, one stop over in Cincinnati, and several thousand miles stood between himself and the woman he loved. He was finally going home. To Seattle. To her arms.
The can of shaving cream slipped form his fingers then, and Howie uttered a few choice words at his own carelessness.
“Really, D. Slow down, at the rate you’re going, you’ll batter yourself black and blue before you even set foot on the plane.” an amused voice commented. Howie looked sharply into the mirror at the unexpected comment, finding his best friend staring back at him in the reflection. A smirk creased his lips as he leaned in the doorway of the bathroom off of the master bedroom. Howie turned to greet the man.
“I can’t help it, AJ. There’s just this incredible excitement welling up inside of me at the prospect of seeing her again.”
AJ chuckled then stepped aside as Howie moved past him to the suitcase which lay open on the bed. “Understandable. It’s been three months since you’ve seen her. It’s perfectly natural to be nervous.”
“That’s just it!” Howie exclaimed, pivoting to face AJ, after stowing his kit. “I’m not nervous at all! I confess, I am a bit anxious, but all I can think about are her sweet lips and the way they’ll feel on mine!” Happiness radiated from Howie’s stance, and the tone in which he spoke his words. AJ found himself wishing for the same assurance of another’s love. “I have no qualms about our relationship, in the sense that it might be different than before. It won’t be, I’m sure of it. She’s still the same adorable woman I left standing there in the airport, and I’m still the same man -head over heels for her.”
As he spoke, Howie’s frantic packing continued. He haphazardly tossed various items onto the bed in the general vicinity of his suitcase. AJ rolled his eyes and moved to help Howie by placing his things within the bag. He had never seen his friend so smitten, nor so scatterbrained when it came to planning ahead and packing with care. “After months of being able to do nothing more than call her face to mind from memory,” Howie continued, “I will finally be able to caress her features...her skin....You should see her eyes and the way they light up. She’s amazing!” he finished, sinking onto the edge of the bed, several garments in hand, the expression on his face telling AJ that he was already miles away.
“As much as I find this declaration of love touching.....hadn’t you better leave your ski suit at home? I’m fairly sure it’s not snowing in Seattle.”
*****
“Self control......self......control.....” Chemelyn murmured to herself, her gaze never straying from the bright red digital numbers shining on the clock next to her bed. “Wait.....” she urged herself. “....wait.....” The time switched to 7:00 in the blink of an eye, the same amount of time it took for Chemelyn to throw back the covers and leap out of her warm bed. Determined not to rush things in an effort to occupy her time until his arrival, she had refused to allow herself to rise one minute earlier than she had to. Nevermind that she had been nearly unable to sleep the entire night, so great was her excitement. In fact, she had awakened from her restless slumber around 5:30 that morning, and unable to let sleep reclaim her, had lain awake for an hour and a half waiting for her clock to strike seven. Finally, it had, and finally, she had justification for her wakeful state.
Chemelyn worked hard to make herself move about at her normal speed, but to spite her best efforts, she completed her preparations in under an hour’s time. Having dressed carefully for their reunion in a long sarong skirt in shades of blue paired with a black frame-hugging top, Chemelyn found herself sitting quietly in the center of her bedroom. The balcony doors were open which allowed a light morning breeze to enter her dwelling. It rustled the curtains by the doors gently, reminding Chemelyn of the time she and Howie had walked along the pier after their first date at the memorable bistro. She had given him her number on the back of the bistro’s business card thus beginning their courtship in earnest. The air that night had circulated much as it was now, and Howie’s face came to the forefront of her mind.
Returning from her daydreaming to the land of the living, Chemelyn made her way down to the main floor of her loft, situated in the heart of Seattle. The open, airy layout had long been home to her, since she moved to the great city nearly four years ago.
Striding purposefully into the kitchen, Chemelyn started a pot of coffee before sitting down at the breakfast bar to watch the strong liquid trickle into the pot. Reaching for a bagel from the bread box, she couldn’t help but think that it was going to be a long morning. A very long morning, indeed.
*****
Howie sat aboard a plane bearing the Delta insignia, comfortably nestled in the first class section, sipping a ginger ale. His foot shook with an internal rhythm, while his fingers performed a restless tattoo on the armrest beside him.
“Is there anything I can get you, sir?” asked an overly cordial flight attendant. Howie shook his head absently, completely missing the simpering looks the woman continued to cast in his direction.
When he could take it no more, Howie’s hands moved of their own violation to the wallet placed in his back pocket. He extracted a well worn photograph from the leather, it’s edges a bit ragged from the amount of handling the picture received. It bore many creases, and one corner had long since been torn off, but the image remained the same. It was a moment of time, frozen, captured on paper; something near and dear to his heart.
The photo depicted himself and Chemelyn in the cafe after the fire. His arms were placed firmly around her waist, chin resting in the hollow of her neck. She wore a men’s dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, paint splatters gracing every inch of her 5’4” frame. Howie could make out the speckles of paint sprinkled in her hair, while he himself was immaculate. They were both smiling contentedly at the camera, as though there wasn’t any other place they’d rather be. Truly, there hadn’t been.
Howie continued to finger the photo even after his eyes returned to the view below, outside his window.
*****
One last thing remained to be done before Chemelyn left for the SeaTac Airport. She walked slowly toward the corner of her loft devoted entirely to paints, brushes, and canvases in all stages of completion. She surveyed the mess which was her studio, eyes lovingly caressing every tool of artistic expression. A second balcony opened off to the side of her work area, beside which her easel was placed. It was to the canvas perched on that wooden frame, Chemelyn went.
Without haste, she skirted the work in progress, the only audible sound being the click of her heels on the hard wood flooring. Coming to a halt in front of the canvas, Chemelyn starred at the vision before her. Warm chocolate eyes filled with love gazed back at her from the painting. Soft light shone on his features, a strand of hair caressing his cheek. Shadows danced across his olive skin, tempting her memories. Silently, Chemelyn took the white sheet which lay across the low stool in front of her, and covered the piece which had occupied much of her time for the past three months. She had spent many a lonely night perched in front of the easel, calling his face to mind, willing her brush to paint him as she remembered with love and longing.
*****
“The captain has just informed us that we are making our final descent into Seattle; the weather is clear, with temperatures around seventy degrees. We will be arriving at gate 12, in approximately five minutes. Please make sure your seat belts are securely fastened, and your tray tables in the upright position. We hope you’ve enjoyed your flight, thank you for flying Delta.”
Howie’s hands shook as he tightened the strap on his seat belt, preparing for the jarring impact of the landing. Having not surrendered the picture to his wallet as of yet, Howie tucked it safely within his carry on beneath the seat in front of him. The wait was almost over.
*@*
Chemelyn had arrived at the airport two hours before Howie’s flight was expected. She had been unable to wait any longer, and fancied that she would rather be pacing furrows into the carpet at the airport rather than twiddling her thumbs at home. When the arrival of Howie’s flight was announced over the intercom, Chemelyn was surprised to find her knees go weak, and her hands seek support from the back of a nearby chair. She checked for his flight on the monitor, just to be safe, and was not disappointed. Flight 1725 from Cincinnati was listed clearly, and Chemelyn felt her heart jump into her throat, while the familiar warm feelings that thoughts of her lover brought, overtook her. Anxiously, she watched as the only Delta jet on the run way maneuvered into position. Somewhere aboard that plane, waited a man she simply could not forget.
*@*
Never before had Howie been so thankful of his first class seating. First class meant he had the first shot at the exit, where he knew Chemelyn would be waiting. A plethora of emotions coursed through his body at once, converging in his chest. Fear, apprehension, love, and desire swept him away in their current, and Howie craned his neck with bated breath as he began his ascent within the terminal to the airport itself. Hands slick with sweat had difficulty in gripping his bag, while his eyes roamed over the crowd of people milling at the entrance. Then he saw her.
She stood with her hands clasped in front of her, lower lip caught between her teeth in a heartbreaking gesture that made her appear as though she were only a small girl anxiously awaiting a surprise. A blue sarong and black tube top hugged her figure, giving her away, and making Howie stop in his tracks. His breath caught in his throat, the mere sight of her making it difficult for him to keep his bearings.
*@*
Chemelyn’s eyes locked with his as she spotted him, her mouth opening in a little gasp. Her hands unfolded, stopping halfway as she reflexively reached for him. A smile curved onto Howie’s lips as he recovered himself and fairly flew to close the remaining distance between them, pushing those ahead of him aside.
All at once, he stood in front of her. His bag dropped to the floor in a heartbeat, and he enfolded her in his arms even as she threw herself into his embrace.
It was many moments before either could speak. They stayed rooted to their spot, clinging to one another, heedless of the looks cast their way: some curious, some disapproving, others indulgent. Chemelyn’s senses swam as she buried her face in Howie’s chest, breathing in his scent. He smelled of soap, cologne, and sandalwood. Everything wonderful and beautiful was in him; she held him closely.
The perfume of Chemelyn’s hair intoxicated Howie immediately, and he found himself nestling his nose in her neck while tangling his fingers in her silky strands. She pulled away slightly, but it was only to gaze up into his face. He was just as she remembered. His eyes held the same kindness and warmth that had haunted her dreams.
When he could take it no longer, Howie slowly, agonizingly, bent his head to brush his lips lightly across hers. Barely touching, the feel of his breath on her face heightened Chemelyn’s awareness of his proximity. Gently, his lips descended upon hers in earnest. Their mouths melded as though he had never left, and Howie was vaguely conscious of her fingertips grazing across the nape of his neck. When they parted breathlessly, Chemelyn brought her forehead to rest against his.
“Hi.” he whispered softly, his gaze affectionate, telling her wordlessly how he felt about her.
“Howie.” she responded just as quietly, eyes dancing.
“I’ve dreamt of this moment every night since I last walked into that terminal.” he informed her, pulling her back against his body. She hugged him tightly.
“I missed you...so much.”
“I can’t believe you’re in my arms.” he told her, his hand rhythmically caressing her back. Chemelyn sighed in contentment.
“You’re back.”
“I am. And I’m not going anywhere for a long while. I promise.”
The couple drew apart then, their fingers still entwined as they made their way toward the baggage claim. Their pace was not hurried in the least; it felt as though they had all the time in the world. And then some.
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