Shattered Pearls

by Sidney Parker

  Turning to Maggie as I stood up, I motioned to the beach. “Want to take one last walk?”

  She quickly staggered to her feet and we made our way down to the ocean. A casual stroll on the edge of the water, barefooted so the waves could lick our toes. Memorizing the sound of the surf and the smell of the saltwater, taking mental snapshots to keep the beauty of this place in our hearts.

  Shading her eyes and scanning the water, Maggie whispered, “I don’t want to go home.”

  “Neither do I. It’s so peaceful here, so calm. I would stay forever if I could. Maybe someday…”

  But I needed to go back. I needed to figure out who was following me. I needed to make it stop so I could move on. I needed answers.

  The sun was rising higher as we made our way back to finish packing and head out. I had already thrown most of my things into my duffle bag.

  My plan was to sit outside and absorb the morning, every second of it before we had to leave. I wanted my mind full of La Jolla so the images would stay with me. It would have to be enough until I could find a way to return for good and make this place my home.

  As Maggie went in to shower, I poured a generous mug of coffee and curled up on one of the oversized, brightly colored chairs on the deck.

  Outside, watching the water, the way the sun glistened as it reflected and the birds circled above in the sky, it was easy to pretend that life was simple and evil didn’t exist. That no one was watching me and following my every move. The ocean was a tranquilizer of sorts, calming my thoughts and my soul just by sitting here and watching it.

  EMILY

  I knew he was out there before I stepped back out onto the balcony after grabbing a refill of my coffee. My heart sped up a little bit, and my body began to tingle as he ran past me down on the beach. It didn’t make me freeze this time. The tears didn’t come nor did I turn back. I just stood there, drinking my coffee and watching him.

  This beautiful man from so long ago, his legs pounding over the sand and his arms pumping at his side as he ran. The waves tried to circle around his feet as he expertly dodged them, keeping his pace, as though he had run the shoreline a million times. I saw the shadow of a darkened sweat line moving down his shirt, his skin glistening in the sun from the dampness. His long curls bounced up and down, matching his steps as he ran. God! He was still so beautiful after all these years. Elliot could not be the man trying to scare me. I refused to believe it. Evil couldn’t come in a package so perfect. Evil should be ugly and repulsive.

  His pace slowed as if he could sense someone watching him, and I stepped back against the wall of the beach house when he glanced up my way. His eyes scanned along the buildings and the homes that guarded the coastline. Using his hand to shield the sunlight from his eyes, his face turned toward where I stood in the shadow on the balcony. He stopped, still gazing upward to where I stood. I didn’t think he could see me but I wasn’t sure.

  Without a thought as to what I was doing, my hand lifted and I waved, just for a brief moment. Just a tiny movement on my part. Elliot just stood still, his feet planted in the sand.

  For one moment I dreamed I could feel his thoughts and he felt mine. The same chemistry that brought us together a long time ago, the spark, it was still there. The current running from the man standing on the beach to the woman standing in the shadows on a balcony above, it still existed after all this time.

  I could still feel the love and the desire I had for this man, a love that, no matter how hard I tried to make it go away, was still there. Only this time the feelings filled me with warmth instead of pain. It felt like his arms curling around me, holding me again, making me whole after so long. It felt safe, like finally coming home. For one moment in time.

  He started to run along the beach again, away from me, not looking back. I stood there for another minute or two and then I waved again.

  “Goodbye,” I whispered to the fading man running along the ocean. “Goodbye.”

  Andrea stepped outside and stood quietly next to me.

  “Do you think he saw you?” she asked.

  “I don’t really know. I think maybe he could sense something or he felt it in some way,” I answered. “At least I hope so.”

  She looked at me and took my hand.

  “He could feel it. I felt something as I stood here and watched. Love is kind of like that. Powerful in such a way you can feel the aura between the two of you even when you are not side-by-side. I don’t know him, but I could feel something so strong between the two of you, something beautiful and rare. You just need to find it again and cherish the gift.”

  She looked so sure of her words and I wanted to believe them. What I feared the most was finding out she was wrong and the love between Elliot and myself died a long time ago. It was fear that kept me from searching for the truth. I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to know the answer.

  “Are you ready to head out soon?” I asked her.

  “I’m packed, but I’m never ready to leave. There is something about the beach, this beach in particular, that is so peaceful and so calming. I feel safe here. The last few years I rarely feel safe anywhere except here,” Andrea replied.

  “I know. I just want to stay. I want to walk the beach and write. It’s as if the crap from the outside world doesn’t exist here.”

  I couldn’t explain it, but I felt Andrea understood what I meant more than anyone else. Three years ago, the man Andrea had been living with had almost beaten her to death before disappearing. It took months and months of physical therapy after numerous reconstructive surgeries to repair the damage he had done to her body. Her story still gave me shivers when I thought about it—that and rage for the fact that Ben, her former boyfriend got away with it.

  She had lived through far worse than I ever had, and in some ways, she was still living it. I knew she could feel the calmness La Jolla radiated, the way one’s blood pressure magically lowered while sitting here.

  She took a sip of her coffee and looked out at the ocean, scanning the long stretch of beach, the rocks with the water spraying up over the top when the waves crashed in.

  “Why don’t you write?” she asked. “I think you would be so good at it. You’ve been editing other authors’ books forever. Maybe you should write your own.”

  “Fear mostly,” I admitted. “I guess I never really believed I could write professionally. I want to. It’s been my dream for years. I have stories playing out in my head all the time. I’ve even started jotting some of them down on paper. I think, maybe, it’s the fear no one would like them that holds me back. That and my lack of self-discipline to actually start writing and finish the damn thing.”

  I was being brutally honest with her. I have wanted to write since I was a little girl. But somehow along the way, I got the idea that my stories wouldn’t be good enough. I needed to change my way of thinking. It was definitely holding me back from my dreams.

  “You would be a great writer, Emily. You have so much passion and your blog is fantastic! You’re wonderful at encouraging your clients in their own writing—turn it on yourself. Don’t write for other people. Write for yourself, and it’ll go better than you think. Just sit down and start the story and let it flow out of you. Do it every day and turn it into a habit.”

  Maybe she was right. I just needed to let go of my fears and do it.

  Maggie came walking outside, coffee in hand and smiling.

  “You two look so serious,” Maggie observed. “Are you solving world peace or something?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I assured her. “We have it all figured out.”

  “Great, You’re both elected.”

  We laughed.

  The morning flew by as we took one more stroll on the beach. I didn’t worry so much about running into Elliot as we walked. I said goodbye to his running form earlier. Not goodbye, more like see you again someday … I hope.

  We finished packing and straightening up the beach house. The ragtop rolled back on the jeep and t
he music cranked, we left just before noon. Singing along to the song “That’s What I Like” by Bruno Mars as we headed back to Phoenix and reality, our bodies left, but my heart stayed on the beach of La Jolla.

  ELLIOT

  Awakening with a jolt, I could see the sun streaming through the blinds covering my windows. I glanced at the clock as I tried to orient myself. I had been asleep for only an hour. My brain was still in a hazy fog.

  Emily! I jumped out of bed and glanced around me. Then I realized I was alone. I was up most of the night writing after I had spied on her and her friends last night.

  I grabbed my running shorts and a T-shirt, bouncing around the room on one foot then the other, trying to get dressed. I didn’t want to miss her this morning. Tying the laces on my shoes, I ran out the door and headed to the beach.

  I was planning on running back and forth in front of the house until I saw her again. Pathetic, huh?

  The first pass through, it was quiet. But the second time I ran by I saw a glimpse of movement. Out of the corner of my eye I could see her standing by the wall of the house, high up on the deck, a robe covering her, watching the beach. She seemed to be scanning back and forth, searching as she sipped something from a mug. I slowed my pace and watched her … hoping.

  I knew the minute she spotted me. A current of electricity connected our hearts. It had always been like that between us. It was like a shock would zap me any time Emily was in close proximity. I could feel it now. I just prayed she did too. I slowed my pace, waiting for some kind of a sign. Maybe she didn’t know it was me. She didn’t seem to be moving at all. I kept watching her, moderating my movements even more.

  Finally, I saw her lift a hand, almost like a wave to me. She saw me! She must have. My heart felt like it was going to jump out of my chest. Emily saw me.

  Now I had to run back home and clean up. Get a few things organized and get myself ready, build up my courage to go get my woman. I would go back and ring that doorbell. I would come face-to-face with Emily Golden and get my life back on track.

  It was just after noon when I walked back over to the house Emily was staying in. I was almost dancing as I walked, and I could not take the smile off my face if I tried. I was ecstatic. I was finally going to see Emily.

  As I approached the house, I noticed the blinds over the sliding door were drawn closed. I stopped for a minute and glanced around. I didn’t see any of them down by the beach, so I walked up to the door and rang the bell. The sound of the door chimes echoed inside, but there was no other noise from within, only silence. I rang it again.

  I jumped as a shadow suddenly appeared across the door and someone stepped up alongside me. It was Jake, my surfing friend.

  “Looking for Linda?” he asked.

  “Linda?” My expression was blank.

  “Yeah, she lives here, although she has been away the last week. Some girlfriends of hers came up from Phoenix over the weekend to stay. She should be back Tuesday or Wednesday. I just check on the place for her when she’s gone or when her guests leave. Make sure everything is locked up and all.”

  She had already left. I missed her! The shock I felt must have been apparent as Jake looked at me closely.

  “Were you looking for one of the women that stayed here?”

  I tried to speak. My mouth opened and closed several times but the words were not coming out, my mind raced with regret. I should’ve talked to her when the chance presented itself. There were so many chances all weekend long. Dammit! I blew it again!

  Watching my reaction, somehow he guessed what I was not saying.

  “She was here, wasn’t she? The one that has you so tied up in knots. Did you talk to her?”

  I just shook my head. My heart felt like it was ripping apart. My mind was screaming all the “I should haves” that I’d been telling myself for years when Jake spoke again.

  “Go after her, man. She lives in Phoenix, all the girls do. Ask Linda. She’ll help you. She’s a sucker for a good love story. I know. I’ve poured my heart out to her over a bit of alcohol a lot the last few years. Ask her. Whatever you do, don’t give up, man.”

  I looked up at him. I wanted to say no, I couldn’t do it, but something stopped me.

  “I know where she lives. I can find her.”

  “Then what are you waiting for? Go after her if you want her. Go figure it out so you can get on with your life. If you love her, go to her, and let her know before you can’t. Quit waiting for the perfect time to approach her. Make the timing perfect yourself.”

  With that, Jake walked back around the side of the house and away from me. He was right. I needed to go to Phoenix and I needed to go soon.

  The excuse machine needed to stop. I had an excuse for every single time my fear stopped me from actually reaching out to Emily. It was getting ridiculous. I traveled the world over, I created a name for myself in the world of murder and mystery, and here I was, letting fear stop me from approaching a woman.

  The worst thing that could happen was she would turn away, that she hated me. If it happened? Shit … I’d think of something. Steal her away to a lonely island in the middle of the Pacific … make her love me again, I don’t know … something … anything was better than this constant second-guessing myself. I needed a plan.

  EMILY

  By the time we made it back to Phoenix, it was dusk. Lights were blinking alive all over the city, casting a glow up into the heavens.

  I dropped the girls off and headed home. George’s house was dark, so I assumed he and Lucky were out somewhere. Hopefully they would be back soon. I really missed my dog. It seemed so strange to not have him waiting for me, greeting me with his slobbery kisses when I came home. Add the fact that I felt much safer when Lucky was with me.

  I pulled the jeep into the garage, immediately closing the door behind me and made quick work of unloading my weekend treasures. George had left a note on the kitchen table. He and Lucky drove to Tucson to visit a friend and would either be back late tonight or in the morning.

  Looking around the house, everything seemed to be exactly the way I left it four days ago. I checked closets and behind doors, under my bed, making sure all the windows were still latched tight. The apprehensions that faded over the long weekend in La Jolla returned with a fury. The safeness I had been feeling vanished too.

  It was so quiet … too quiet. A shiver ran through me and I started feeling a chill, the kind that came from inside of my body instead of the air around me.

  The phrase deadly silent came to mind. I’d read that somewhere and the term wasn’t portraying a good thing. Trying to shake it off, I turned on my iPod, filling the room with the hum of calming music and eradicating the eerie silence.

  There, much better. Now I didn’t feel so exposed. All the blinds were turned downward so no one could see inside, but I couldn’t shake the feeling like someone had been watching me since the moment I pulled in my driveway. I peeked outside from the corner of the blind covering the front bay window, facing the street. Everything was quiet and I couldn’t see anyone. George’s house was still dark.

  Heading into my office, I turned on my computer, staring at the blank screen.

  Just one sentence, I told myself. Just one.

  I began to type…

  And so I finally started to breathe, to truly come alive … after so long living in the midst of a blinding fog.

  Staring at the screen, a story began to form in my mind, just a glimpse of one but a story nevertheless. I wanted to keep going and see where it would lead me.

  I made myself a cup of tea, settled back at my desk, and cleared my head of all the outside distractions. Just let the story flow out of me…

  It was three hours later when I looked up. Darkness had enveloped the outside and the clock told me it was after eleven. George and Lucky must have stayed in Tucson. Rubbing my neck, I stood up and stretched. Looking back at my computer, I smiled to myself. It was a very good start. I didn’t make an outline to work wit
h yet, I just started writing and I had over 2,000 words. I didn’t know the ending as of yet, or how I would twist and turn the story, but it would all come soon enough. Looking over everything I’d written so far, it felt good. Actually, it felt wonderful.

  I shut everything down and made my way back into the kitchen. There were moonbeams of light filtering through the slits in the blinds, reflecting off the walls and creating an eerie picture.

  The sound of an acoustic guitar hummed softly from the speaker, usually a calming sound, yet a creepy feeling engulfed me, causing the hair on my arms to stand up and a chill to race through me. I pulled my sweater tighter as I glanced around me. I felt like there were eyes following me again, watching my every move. I wanted to step outside and look to see if anything was amiss, but warning bells kept going off in my head.

  I peeked out the front window, overlooking the street, using two fingers to open the slats on the blinds. Other than a soft glow from the street lamps, there was nothing, no movement of any kind. George’s house was still dark. Actually, every house I could see was dark. The whole neighborhood was sound asleep. So why was I so jumpy?

  I tried deep breathing to make myself relax. I visualized the waves rolling onto the beach back in La Jolla, but the uneasy feeling I was having wouldn’t go away. I even thought of Elliot, but Maggie’s words came rushing back to haunt me. What if Elliot was the one watching me? What if I was completely wrong?

  No, I’m just being paranoid, I told myself. Moving back into the office, I glanced at the security camera monitor on my desk but it showed me nothing.

  There was no one out there…

  And I was too old to believe in the boogeyman.

  Back in my room, I traded the iPod music for that of the TV, adjusting the volume down to a low hum.

  Throwing my clothes into the basket in my closet, I snuggled into my soft white sheets and drew the down comforter up to my neck. I tried to find a comfortable position and let the sound of the television lull me to sleep.