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Authors: Misty Dawn Pulsipher
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pleased to meet with you
again . . .”
—Mrs. Smith, Persuasion
It
took Hanna a good while to recover from the shock and mortification of finding
Derick listening to her sing. She didn’t know how much of the song he’d
caught—she couldn’t tell from his expression or his posture if he’d just
arrived, or if he’d been a silent audience for most of it.
The
broken chords of “Someone Like You” had snagged Hanna’s attention right off.
Admittedly, she often thought of Derick whenever she heard the song—now more
than ever because the words were a perfect fit. She hoped with all her heart
that Derick hadn’t seen any personal meaning in the song. It would not do for
him to believe she was still mourning him after all this time.
Because
she wasn’t. At all.
Upon
learning of Derick and Ella’s plans that morning, Charles and Mary decided to
go out for breakfast downtown—presumably hoping to run into them. So Hanna
offered to keep the boys. She couldn’t help but wonder if Charles and Mary
weren’t a bit starstruck with Derick. Being the avid sports fan that her
brother-in-law was, he had obviously recognized Derick right off, but aside
from being generally in awe of his very existence, Charles hadn’t mentioned his
knowledge of Derick’s identity.
Needing
a distraction, Hanna asked the boys if they wanted to walk down and see the
Lymelight—the lighthouse that guarded the entrance to Old Lyme Harbor. CJ
agreed, only on condition that they could take their kite and find a good windy
spot to fly it. After greasing the boys with SPF 80 sunscreen and donning a hat
herself, Hanna set off down the beach with her nephews in tow.
The
trek to the breakwater was uneventful; CJ filled Walter’s head with all sorts
of piratesque adventures they might have in the lighthouse. More than once
Hanna had to explain that no one was actually allowed inside the structure,
that it had been closed to the public for years. And as the Lymelight sat at
the end of an arm of stone that arced into the treacherous sea, reaching it—at
least with a six- and two-year-old in tow—would be a bad idea, if nearly
impossible.
It was
a good thing they’d brought the kite. An object so far out of reach as the
Lymelight could hardly keep the attention of her nephews for long. But on
opening the kite and attempting to assemble it, Hanna found herself vastly
underqualified for the task. The kite in question wasn’t the average
two-sticks-on-the-back creation, but seemed to have a network of supports that
had to be carefully assembled to make it work. Hanna had been struggling with
it for a good twenty minutes when a bystander approached her.
“Excuse
me,” he said with a tentative smile, “I couldn’t help but notice you’re having
trouble with your kite. Would you mind if I take a look?”
The
first thing Hanna noticed was his ready smile, the second was his dark, curly
hair and the exactly matching shade of his eyes. He had an expensive-looking
camera around his neck, but he was barefoot and wore faded jeans and a T-shirt.
Blinking
out of her stupor, Hanna said, “Yes, thank you,” and handed him the
instructions.
Taking
them from her, he studied them for a minute and then nodded sagely. “This model
was actually recalled a while ago . . . the instructions are faulty, as I think
you’ve discovered.”
While
the accommodating newcomer deftly assembled the kite, relocating several of the
sticks, Hanna gave CJ a look as if to say, See? It wasn’t my fault!
“Here
you go!” the stranger said, holding the kite up for inspection. The boys
whooped, and CJ lost no time in running off and trying to launch it.
Hanna
turned to her savior. “That was impressive. Are you a kite expert or
something?”
He lifted
a shoulder. “I worked at a hobby shop all through high school and college—we
saw our fair share of kites.”
“I
see,” Hanna said, distracted by his straight white teeth, tanned skin, and
friendly manner.
again . . .”
—Mrs. Smith, Persuasion
It
took Hanna a good while to recover from the shock and mortification of finding
Derick listening to her sing. She didn’t know how much of the song he’d
caught—she couldn’t tell from his expression or his posture if he’d just
arrived, or if he’d been a silent audience for most of it.
The
broken chords of “Someone Like You” had snagged Hanna’s attention right off.
Admittedly, she often thought of Derick whenever she heard the song—now more
than ever because the words were a perfect fit. She hoped with all her heart
that Derick hadn’t seen any personal meaning in the song. It would not do for
him to believe she was still mourning him after all this time.
Because
she wasn’t. At all.
Upon
learning of Derick and Ella’s plans that morning, Charles and Mary decided to
go out for breakfast downtown—presumably hoping to run into them. So Hanna
offered to keep the boys. She couldn’t help but wonder if Charles and Mary
weren’t a bit starstruck with Derick. Being the avid sports fan that her
brother-in-law was, he had obviously recognized Derick right off, but aside
from being generally in awe of his very existence, Charles hadn’t mentioned his
knowledge of Derick’s identity.
Needing
a distraction, Hanna asked the boys if they wanted to walk down and see the
Lymelight—the lighthouse that guarded the entrance to Old Lyme Harbor. CJ
agreed, only on condition that they could take their kite and find a good windy
spot to fly it. After greasing the boys with SPF 80 sunscreen and donning a hat
herself, Hanna set off down the beach with her nephews in tow.
The
trek to the breakwater was uneventful; CJ filled Walter’s head with all sorts
of piratesque adventures they might have in the lighthouse. More than once
Hanna had to explain that no one was actually allowed inside the structure,
that it had been closed to the public for years. And as the Lymelight sat at
the end of an arm of stone that arced into the treacherous sea, reaching it—at
least with a six- and two-year-old in tow—would be a bad idea, if nearly
impossible.
It was
a good thing they’d brought the kite. An object so far out of reach as the
Lymelight could hardly keep the attention of her nephews for long. But on
opening the kite and attempting to assemble it, Hanna found herself vastly
underqualified for the task. The kite in question wasn’t the average
two-sticks-on-the-back creation, but seemed to have a network of supports that
had to be carefully assembled to make it work. Hanna had been struggling with
it for a good twenty minutes when a bystander approached her.
“Excuse
me,” he said with a tentative smile, “I couldn’t help but notice you’re having
trouble with your kite. Would you mind if I take a look?”
The
first thing Hanna noticed was his ready smile, the second was his dark, curly
hair and the exactly matching shade of his eyes. He had an expensive-looking
camera around his neck, but he was barefoot and wore faded jeans and a T-shirt.
Blinking
out of her stupor, Hanna said, “Yes, thank you,” and handed him the
instructions.
Taking
them from her, he studied them for a minute and then nodded sagely. “This model
was actually recalled a while ago . . . the instructions are faulty, as I think
you’ve discovered.”
While
the accommodating newcomer deftly assembled the kite, relocating several of the
sticks, Hanna gave CJ a look as if to say, See? It wasn’t my fault!
“Here
you go!” the stranger said, holding the kite up for inspection. The boys
whooped, and CJ lost no time in running off and trying to launch it.
Hanna
turned to her savior. “That was impressive. Are you a kite expert or
something?”
He lifted
a shoulder. “I worked at a hobby shop all through high school and college—we
saw our fair share of kites.”
“I
see,” Hanna said, distracted by his straight white teeth, tanned skin, and
friendly manner.
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