we?”
“You’ll see,” he said with a twinkle in his smiling clear blue eyes. He hummed badly while he drove. And soon, he turned up the radio to drown out his voice.
It was some Rock Station that she didn’t recognize. And as they sang along, she saw the first sign she had found in many miles. In twenty-three miles they would be in Myrtle Beach. Her head whipped around to look at him. Her eyes narrowed. “Are we going to the beach?”
“Maybe, if you are a very good girl…” His voice trailed off as he concentrated on switching lanes.
And she gave that a moment to sink in. They were going to the beach. She was good. That was definitely where they were going. She hadn’t been to the ocean in a very long time. She had been to Myrtle Beach…never. Suddenly, twenty-three miles might as well have been three thousand. They were not going to get there fast enough for her liking. Without even realizing it, she was bouncing in her seat. They were going to the beach!
By the time they arrived at their destination, Joe was beaming. It was obvious he had chosen correctly. Marti was a woman who appreciated an adventure. She was a woman who found fishy air and salty water to be therapy. When they pulled into the parking lot a block back from the boardwalk area, he had begun to wish he had one of those kid leashes for her. Even with an injury, she could hardly be contained.
“Listen,” he said, “there’s this place that makes the best homemade fries. And they have chicken wings, too. There’s an arcade over here. I’ll beat you at skeeball like it’s my job! And, of course, the sun is about to set, so if you want shells…” Before he had even completed his sentence, she was hunting around in the truck. “What are you doing?”
“You said if I want shells. I want shells!” He could see that she was rifling through his door, his floorboards, he guessed pretty much anywhere she imagined a baggy might have fallen during his travels.
“Does it look like I have a bunch of junk in here?” He asked almost impatiently.
“No…,” she said sadly. “I’ve never seen such a neat and organized truck in all my life.” She sounded more depressed at that than impressed.
“This is the way I make a living. I can’t be opening my door and leaving garbage all over the job or at people’s homes. They care about that.” He gestured to the buckets and bins. “I have a place for everything. And I put everything back in its place.”
“Great. So where do I put my shells?” She looked at him hopefully.
“You should have thought of that before you left.” He folded his arms across his chest.
“Are you serious?” She practically roared. “I fell through my porch, ended up getting stitches, fell asleep, and woke up on the other side of the state. When would I have known to plan for searching out sea shells?” She stomped away from the truck after slamming the cab door. “If you planned on doing this, you might have mentioned it so I could prepare!” She was walking in the direction of the shops they had passed.
He smiled again. Even as she hobbled along, the gentle swaying of her hips, the way her butt cheeks rose and fell with each stride, he was once again reminded how much he loved to watch her walk away…the angrier the better. He was rather enjoying walking behind her…until she stopped suddenly and whipped around to face him.
“Can we go to the beach first?” There was a pleading look in her eyes. He almost hated to deny her, but he knew she would forgive him in the long run.
“What if we get fries first?” He could see that the beach was calling to her despite the chilly temperatures. “They give us the fries in a cup. And then you can use the cup for your shells. Sound like a plan?”
She nodded happily and waited for him to catch up before walking any further. They walked side by side. He was still introspective, he was enjoying her enthusiasm. He only knew one other person who had made him this happy, this excited to do something he had done so many times. And for a moment, he wondered if it would always be that way around Marti. She certainly had a zeal for life. Of course...so had Finn. He sighed. Why