At Sean’s gruff voice, Bandit lowered his head and placed his chin atop my thigh, as if to apologize.
“It’s all right; I forgive you,” I assured him, and petted him until it was time for us to go.
With his head down, Bandit returned to where Sean had parked the vehicle. “You need to reassure him he’s forgiven,” I urged Sean. Seeing how distressed the poor dog was tore at my heart.
“You’re forgiven,” Sean repeated, and patted his head.
Bandit looked up with deep, dark eyes and crawled into his spot in the backseat.
“He has abandonment issues,” Sean said. “Leaving him behind for this trip to Bolivia concerns me. I wanted to wait to adopt him until after I returned, but Preston talked me out of it.”
“Preston is all about finding good homes for all the animals he rescues. Harper has a heart for animals, too, hence Snowball.” While Harper had given me every assurance that she intended to take care of the kitten, it seemed Snowball had glommed on to me. The tiny cat insisted on sleeping on my bed and seemed to follow me around, despite Harper’s efforts to prove ownership. While I hated to admit it, I rather enjoyed having a kitten. I wasn’t sure how I’d feel when she was full grown. Time would tell.
Just outside of Seattle, I must have fallen asleep. I hadn’t meant for that to happen. Dusk had come and gone. I found it harder and harder to hold back my yawns. At what point I’d closed my eyes and leaned my head against the passenger window, I couldn’t remember.
“Willa.” Sean gently shook my shoulder.
I jerked upright, shocked to find we were parked outside my apartment complex.
“We’re home,” he whispered.
I raised my hands over my head and stretched. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to drift off. How long have I been asleep?”
“Awhile.”
“I fell down on the job of keeping you awake,” I said, and pressed my hand over my mouth to squelch a yawn.
“Don’t worry. I enjoyed listening to you snore.”
“I didn’t?” I asked, horrified.
“No, you didn’t, but you did drool a bit.”
I was speechless until he laughed.
Bandit poked his head between the seats again and looked from Sean to me, as if waiting for me to leave.
I could take a hint. “I had a wonderful day. Thank you, Sean.”
“I had a good time, too.” He placed his hand around the back of my neck. “Would you mind terribly if I kissed you?”
“Ah…sure.” I closed my eyes and leaned toward him. He didn’t keep me waiting long. His mouth covered mine, and wow. This guy knew how to kiss. I placed my hands on his shoulders and leaned into him. My heart and my head soared as the kiss became fully involved. I loved the taste and feel of him, and found myself wanting more of him, wanting to give him more of me.
When we broke apart, Sean’s eyes held mine. “Wow,” he said, and cleared his throat. He didn’t sound anything like himself.
“Wow,” I echoed, and I realized I didn’t sound like myself, either.
CHAPTER 10
Sean
Although I’d been planning this trip to Bolivia, I was reluctant to leave Willa. Time with her was a gift. After our all-day trip to Toppenish, we were together every day for the next week. I made it a habit to stop by the coffee shop for another of her specialty drinks. I’d tried several now and found I rather enjoyed drinking coffee when it was disguised. She’d quickly wrapped herself around my heart. This was different from any other relationship I’d had. Willa was unlike any other woman I’d dated. She helped me view the world in ways I never had before; she showed me the importance and appreciation of family. Since I’d started spending time with her and saw the closeness she shared with her siblings, it made me want to grow closer to my own family. Both my parents noticed and had commented. Once it was clear my career in baseball was over, I rented an apartment close to my parents. I used the next couple of years to build my portfolio as a professional photographer. Being raised in Colorado Springs had its downfalls. Despite my efforts to start over, everyone knew me from my baseball career. I needed to move someplace where the entire city hadn’t watched me grow up in the sport. I happened upon Oceanside, as fate would have it, doing a shoot of the Olympic rain forest. The town and the community immediately appealed to me. I could remain anonymous in this tiny burg. While in town I walked past a real estate office and a photo of a home captured my attention. On impulse, I went to see it and saw the potential. I made an offer that day, and learned I got the house the next. And as they say, the rest is history.
My flight out of Seattle was scheduled for July 5, and after all the effort I’d taken to get what I needed lined up, I stared at the date on my calendar with regret. This wasn’t a good time to leave. Still, my head was looking forward to learning what I could about the Bolivian people in the backcountry. My heart, however, would remain in Oceanside with Willa.
Willa told me Harper planned a barbecue for the holiday on the beach and invited me to join her, along with Harper and her friends, later in the afternoon after she closed the shop. I was concerned that she might be exhausted after doing a hard day’s work, but when I saw her, she immediately brightened. Happiness radiated from her as she waved and hurried to meet me.
Unable to leave Bandit behind, I brought him along. The moment he viewed Willa, he strained against the leash, anxious to get to her. She’d changed into a sleeveless yellow summer dress with white polka dots and was barefoot. I’d never seen her look more beautiful. Her natural beauty was unlike the other women I’d dated. Willa didn’t need a full array of makeup or expensive clothes or jewelry.
The beach was crowded with those celebrating the holiday. Harper had apparently staked out her territory early that morning. She set up a barbecue and table, along with blankets and a huge multicolored umbrella. I noticed several folding umbrella-style chairs. The firework display was not to be missed, or so Willa had told me. I’d lived in the area the last Fourth of July but had avoided the crowds and the tourists, preferring to stay at home instead of joining my family.
Harper raced across the sand to greet Willa, me, and Bandit. She introduced me to her friend John Neal and a couple of others. I remember Willa had mentioned that John and Harper were part of a group that would be climbing Mount Rainier later in the summer.
“I hope you’re hungry,” Harper said, motioning toward the table, covered with a variety of salads and chips and dips, along with the accouterments for the barbecue hamburgers and hot dogs.
“Starving.” I’d finished the mural project and sent the photos and the article I’d written on to Seattle Magazine. I was pleased with how it had turned out. By far my favorite photos, however, were the ones I’d taken of Willa and Bandit that day. Half the time she was unaware I had my camera focused on her. I’d printed out my favorite five of those and pinned them on my office wall. After seeing her every day for the last week, I wasn’t sure how I would fare for the next twenty-three without her.
Communication would be difficult. There likely weren’t many cell phone towers anywhere close to where I planned to stay. From the research I’d done, I accepted that the remote area would likely have primitive conditions and no Wi-Fi. I’d have to go into town to find an Internet café, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to make that trek often.
The day was perfect. Then again, it could have been overcast and raining and I wouldn’t have cared, as long as I was with Willa. Although it might not be entirely true, I’d never been in a relationship where a woman was interested in getting to know me. The real me and not the sports hero. Again I might be exaggerating, but it always felt as if the relationship was based on what I could do for them, their social standing, their ego, or what I could give them.
I used the excuse of building my career as a photographer to avoid dating. I left the big city behind, seque
stered myself. Seeking out a woman, wooing her, was an entirely new experience for me. Deep down, I recognized Willa was worth the effort, and I had no intention of letting her slip through my fingers.
Sitting in the sand with her at my side, we ate fresh-off-the-grill hamburgers that Harper and her friends made along with all the fixings. Although Willa protested, Harper insisted on bringing us plates piled high with a variety of picnic food.
It seemed the entire town of Oceanside was on the beach. Sitting just down from us were Annie and Keaton, along with Mellie and Preston. I remembered hearing that at one time Mellie had been an agoraphobic, afraid to leave her home. Looking at her now, I found that hard to believe. It appeared the two couples were close friends. Keaton was a gentle giant. It was clear from the way he looked at his wife, and the exchanges between them, how deeply in love they were. For a short while I found it hard to look away. That kind of love was what I wanted, what I’d hoped to find in my own life.
“You leave tomorrow?” Willa asked, breaking into my musings.
A group of teens played volleyball down the beach as children raced back and forth, kicking up sand. Kites flew overhead and the surf eased against the shore, leaving a haphazard trail of bubbles edging the sand in a lacelike pattern.
“I’ll be off first thing tomorrow, changing planes in Atlanta and flying into La Paz.” Willa knew all that; I’d gone over it two or three times since I told her I’d be leaving right after the holiday. Placing my arm around her, I brought her closer to my side. Sighing, Willa leaned her head against my shoulder.
“I’m going to miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too, babe.” I heard the same reluctance in her that I’d been experiencing myself. The attraction I felt for Willa was unexpected. My life was comfortable. When I’d moved to Oceanside, I’d done it for a fresh start, a new beginning. What I hadn’t expected when I made this move was meeting Willa.
Her hand drifted to Bandit and she scratched his ears, giving my dog comfort and perhaps seeking it for herself.
“I’m dropping Bandit off with Logan later tonight.” I’d be taking a couple of days in La Paz, Bolivia, to acclimate to the change in altitude. I intended to head for the Bolivian Apolobamba region. My idea was to document how climate change had affected the alpaca herders. I knew I would need to take a couple of days to connect with my guide and to sort through and secure my equipment.
“I should be able to be in touch with you while I’m in La Paz, but probably not much after that.” I knew this wasn’t what Willa wanted to hear. What I doubted she understood was that not being able to talk to her would be equally hard on me. I’d grown accustomed to sharing my day with her and hearing about hers. It surprised me how close I felt to her.
“I understand.” She kept her head lowered. “You won’t be in any danger, will you?”
“I won’t seek it out and I know how to handle myself. Fortunately, I speak the language and have hired a guide who will take me where I need to go.” Undoubtedly, there would be certain risks. There were in any travel, but I could get hit by a bus right here in Oceanside. I wouldn’t allow fear to hold me back. Having traveled all over the world by this point, I had little doubt I’d be fine.
“Will the guide be with you the entire twenty-three days?”
“No. He’ll drive me to Lake Titicaca toward the town of Charazani and beyond. I’ll meet up with one of the locals there and stay with him in his home.” Nothing could replace this kind of experience.
“How far is that from La Paz?”
That remained unclear. “Can’t tell you in miles, but Reymundo, my guide, said the drive would take around six hours.”
“Then what?”
“Then we walk.”
“Walk? To where?” She was beginning to sound more concerned.
“It’ll be fine. The whole idea is for me to document what’s going on in the lives of the alpaca herders living in that area. Climate change has had a drastic impact on their lives and their story needs to be told.”
“How do you know about this?”
That was a whole other story, one which I chose to condense. “I was on another shoot in South America, in Peru, and I met the son of one of the alpaca herders, who had recently returned from visiting his family in that area. He told me of his parents’ plight and their struggles to make a living on the land that had sustained generations before him. I decided I wanted to see it for myself.”
Willa grew quiet, and soon it was dark and the sky came alive with fireworks, raining down wild bursts of light and color. Bandit rested between Willa and me and trembled at the sound of the explosions. At one point he buried his nose under my thigh. Resting my hand on his spine, I dug my fingers deep into his fur, knowing he needed the comfort and reassurance.
Following the fireworks display, we all worked together cleaning up the beach.
Because Logan was at the beach with his mother, he volunteered to take Bandit back to his house. Kneeling in front of my dog, I looked him in the eye. “I’ll be back.”
Holding on to the leash, Logan led him away. Logan had gone only a few feet when Bandit stopped and looked over his shoulder at me. “Go on,” I called out to him. “I’ll be back.”
“He’s going to miss you, too,” Willa said, wrapping her arm around my elbow.
We waited until Logan and Bandit were out of sight before I walked Willa to her apartment complex, which was only two blocks off the beach. We stood in the moonlight and I wrapped my arms around her, knotting my hands at the small of her back. I breathed in her lavender scent as I rested my chin on the top of her head. For a long time, all we did was hold on to each other. She didn’t speak and I didn’t, either. We’d basically said our goodbyes earlier.
When we eased apart, I kissed her and promised to be in touch as soon as I landed in La Paz.
* * *
—
The heat is what hit me hardest when I set foot in the administrative capital of Bolivia. As soon as I was settled in my hotel room, I logged on to its Wi-Fi and sent Willa a text.
Here. Exhausted. Missing you. There was so much more I wanted to say, but I’d been up for nearly twenty-four hours. What I needed most was something to eat, a hot shower, and bed, in that order.
I slept for nearly ten hours. When I woke, the first thing I did was reach for my phone. Willa didn’t disappoint me. I read her message and frowned.
How come you never told me you played professional baseball?
I groaned. This wasn’t something I wanted to get into when I was nearly six thousand miles away.
Who told you?
I was surprised with her speedy response.
Lucas. When he heard we were dating, he checked you out.
You mad?
She didn’t answer, which I suspected was answer enough. I was tempted to call, prepared to pay whatever it cost me, when my phone dinged, indicating I had a text.
Not mad. I don’t know why you felt you couldn’t share this with me.
I wiped my hand down my face. She was right, I should have mentioned it long before now. For me, baseball was in the past; I’d moved on and put that part of my life behind closed doors. I wasn’t that man any longer, and I hoped I wouldn’t be again. Unsure how best to smooth this over, I went for the delay tactic. It wasn’t my finest moment, but it was the best I could do until I could look her in the eyes and explain.
Can we talk about this when I get back?
I held on to my phone, staring at the screen, waiting for her reply, holding my breath the entire time. It took what felt like several minutes before she responded.
Okay.
I released a long, slow breath and felt like I’d dodged a bullet. Willa wasn’t the type to anger easily or make a fuss. By not telling her, I realized I’d hurt her feelings; that had shaken her trust in me. When I returned, I
’d do my best to explain and make it up to her. The one thing I didn’t want to do was ruin what we had going. The relationship was fragile, still undeveloped, still taking shape. I’d hoped to build it on trust and realized I’d been the one who’d shaken that shallow foundation.
* * *
—
The following day, Reymundo and I met in the hotel lobby. I loaded my gear into his Range Rover. We traveled along the northern edge of Lake Titicaca to Charazani. The roads grew worse with every mile and the towns grew smaller. Earlier, I’d sent Willa and my parents an email detailing the next few days as best I could. I didn’t want either to worry if they didn’t hear from me for the next few weeks. I hoped I’d be able to connect at some point, but that remained doubtful.
At the end of the road, and I mean that literally, Reymundo and I were met by a man named Alfonso. We spoke in Spanish and he explained that he would take me to his house, which was just over the hill. Reymundo left and promised to return to collect me in twenty days’ time.
Alfonso and I walked for four hours before we arrived at his small home and I met his wife, Carmen. She showed me to the room she had prepared for me. It consisted of a narrow bed and a rickety table. There was no running water and no electricity.
During the walk, I’d developed a killer headache. I knew it was due to the elevation. At this point we were almost ten thousand feet above sea level. I took two aspirin and hoped it would help.
Carmen served us a meal of quinoa soup and dried guinea pig. I welcomed the warmth of the soup and managed to eat the dried meat, which tasted even worse than anyone can imagine. Early on, I learned that being a photojournalist meant learning to eat anything placed in front of me and preferably not knowing or asking what it was.
That night and every night that followed, fog rolled in. Getting comfortable was impossible. I swear I could have frozen to death. I’d been to the Antarctic and not been this cold.
A Walk Along the Beach Page 8