Page 14 of A Second Chance for Carys
Carys sat down and lifted her head up to the sun while her dress and feet dried, trying to regain her composure. The peaceful setting helped. The bay curved gently on either side of them, and she could distinguish various shades of green, gray and blue in the water, depending on how the sunlight hit the surface. No one was around, and it looked as if the place had been created for them, like the perfect cocoon.
“How long were you married?”
She stilled as the question hit her, as unexpected as the waves had been earlier. Why did James want to know? And why now?
“Almost twelve years.”
“Was it a happy marriage?”
“Yes. Dewi and I got married when we were both seventeen, and we were deeply in love.” She gave a wistful smile. It had been love at first sight between the two of them. Her friends had warned her that such an attraction would fade as quickly as it had come, but it had not. It had only transformed into something deeper and more meaningful. Had he not died so prematurely, they would still be happy today, she had no doubt in her mind. “He used to joke that my parents had chosen my name well.”
“How so?”
Carys blinked. Of course, not speaking Welsh, he wouldn’t know what her name meant. And now she would have to spell it out. Why hadn’t she kept her mouth shut?
“It can be translated as ‘beloved’ in your language,” she explained, reddening a little. “And he kept saying that, as his wife, I certainly was loved.”
James pierced her with one of the intense stares she had grown to love. “It’s a beautiful name, and a beautiful sentiment. I can understand why you were happy married to such a man.”
She swallowed hard. Yes, she had been more than happy with Dewi, but it felt like so long ago now. Eighteen years, to be precise, which was to say that she had spent much longer being a widow than a married woman. Her memories of him had started to fade, and there was no way to stop it. In a few years’ time, she might not remember the way he’d looked when passion stirred him or the sound of his voice. The thought was so depressing that she asked James a question of her own, eager to move the focus away from memories of her life with Dewi.
“What about you?” She knew from Branwen that he was a widower, too, but she didn’t know much more.
He sighed and lay on the blanket, next to her. For a moment she thought he would not answer but then he started to talk, his eyes on the sky above, his voice flat.
“I met my wife, Joanne, when I was eighteen. Just like you with Dewi, I knew immediately she would be the woman I would marry, and she would make me a happy man. And for almost twenty years, she did. I woke up every morning thinking I had been right to follow my instinct.”
Carys could not help a smile because she remembered that feeling all too well. The certainty of being with the person you were meant to be with, the comfort it brought you, the happiness. As soon as she had met Dewi, she’d known they were destined to be together and every day she had thanked her lucky stars she had not listened to the people who had tried to caution her against a hasty decision. Sometimes your heartdidknow better and you were rewarded for following it.
She stole a glance at James, who was still looking at the sky. What she felt when she was with him was different to what she had felt with her husband, but no less potent. The only difference was, she wasn’t sure where it would lead. With Dewi, she had not asked herself any questions. They would marry and have a family together. That was what young people did, the only satisfying way forward she could see. But now…A woman her age, with two grown daughters, could do what she wanted. Supposing she knew what it was she wanted, of course. Right now, she wasn’t sure.
Confused, she decided to lie down, like James. High above, a cloud was hurrying toward the sun, pushed by the sea breeze. Would it run past it, dimming its brilliance for a moment?
“Do you have any children?” she asked.
There was a long pause. Then two words, terrible. “Not anymore.”
After that there was nothing to say.
When she moved, the sand under the blanket shifted, allowing her to mold her body into a soft cocoon. This was delicious, so delicious that after a moment she feared she would fall asleep. Not wanting to waste her first day at the sea sleeping, Carys stood back up, intent on returning to the edge of the water, which had indeed come closer during their discussion.
As she placed her foot down, a small bolt of pain shot through her foot. What was that? And how had she not felt it before?
“Ow, I think I must have stepped on something sharp earlier,” she said, sitting back down.
“Probably a broken shell. It can happen all too easily on sand. Let me see.”
Without waiting for her agreement, James lifted her foot up for inspection. She thought perhaps she should protest but she did not. Where was the harm in it? As he examined her foot shewatched him. His dark eyes were focused, his jaw set. There was something about a man who didn’t smile, she decided. It made his demeanor even more manly. Irresistible.
“Yes, there is a cut, here.” His finger brushed a spot just below her big toe. Had she been ticklish she might have wiggled away. As she was not, she simply enjoyed the caress. “It’s not very big. You likely didn’t feel it earlier because of the cold of the sea. Not to worry, it should heal easily enough.”
While he was speaking, his hand had started to creep up on her leg. His finger was no longer on the cut but halfway up her calf, and showing no sign of stopping.
“What are you doing?” she croaked, unable to do as she ought and snatch her leg away.
“Touching you.”
Yes, well, this much she could feel. What she was wondering was why. “You shouldn’t be doing that.”
