Wishes

Chapter 1

Redondo Beach, California, 1964.

Lark O’Brien Myers sat in the sand Indian style in almost a meditative state, staring straight ahead, enjoying the smell and sound of the surf, and watching the waves roll in and out. The sun had just risen above the horizon, making the ocean look like glass. Seagulls flew overhead, crying their early complaints to all who would listen.

Further down the beach, a black Labrador ran in and out of the water barking at the waves. The man who owned the dog sat in the sand.

Wind blew Lark’s red hair in her eyes and she pushed it back. She smiled as she thought, This is true peace- -the simplicity of a morning on the beach. The air was fresh and crisp when the world was waking up to a new day. She loved this time best of all.

The Labrador was moving up the beach coming closer to where she sat. As he approached her, his owner smiled and called out, “Good morning.” “Morning,” she called back.

The dog came running by her, turned around, came back, lapped her cheek and took off. She giggled, “Morning to you, too.” The dog looked back, but then a seagull landed on the shoreline.  He took off at a fast pace, tail straight, and nose pointed. Lark laughed. Yes, she thought, mornings are best, and then put her hand on her tummy.

She knew she had to tell her secret soon but still didn’t really want to. Why, she asked herself. Was she…afraid to tell? She wasn’t sure. The only thing she knew for sure was that never before in her twenty years had she ever felt happier and more content.

She headed for the stairs that led back up to the sidewalk. Sitting down, she brushed the sand off her feet, put on her shoes and socks, then walked to her car. As she drove the two blocks to the apartment, her mind drifted back.

Don, her husband of six weeks, was due home soon from his night job at the bakery. Maybe she’d tell him her secret as they ate breakfast together or maybe not. Maybe she’d wait until tonight after he’d had some sleep and his mind was fresh. Or maybe she’d wait until another time altogether.

She pulled into the parking space and got out of the car. Waving to her first- floor neighbors as they pulled away beside her, she ran up the stairs to the second floor.

Placing her key in the lock, she heard a loud meowing behind the door. She didn’t need a watchdog with her cat, Pepper, around. If anyone knocked, walked by, or even came within two feet of the door, he stood there meowing, welcoming them to come in.

As she entered the room, she heard a thud, a crash, the sound of breaking glass, and turned to see black fur zipping around the corner at breakneck speed. There on the foyer floor laid the turned-over table, the vase and flowers, and water spreading onto the linoleum.

“Pepper,” Lark yelled. “You are one dead cat!”

When Don came in from work, lunch pail in hand, he found Lark on her hands and knees cleaning up the mess. “What happened here?” He gave her a quizzical smile.

“It has a six letter name and maybe the only cat not to have nine lives. One of these days I’m going to take him to the pound.”

“Oh honey, you know you love that furry thing.”

“He’s going to be the death of me!”

Don chuckled and bent down to help her clean up the mess.

When they finished, they moved to the kitchen and Lark started coffee while Don settled into the breakfast nook beside the bay window. He noticed a trail of sand on the kitchen floor. “You’ve been for your walk on the beach?”

“How did you know?”

He pointed to the cuffs of her jeans.

“Caught again, I just couldn’t resist going down to watch sunrise over the ocean.”

“You are definitely a California girl.”

“Born and raised and proud of it. I can’t imagine not living near an ocean. It’s my favorite place of all.”

“I never even saw an ocean till I moved here from Iowa, and I think it’s just great.”

Lark smiled.