2
We walkedto the edge of the lawn, where the damp manicured grass met the sandy path leading to the beach. Down below, the cottage stood among the dunes and palm trees, its weather-beaten shingles faded to a soft grey under the relentless kiss of sea spray and sun. The windows were half-hidden by wild roses that had climbed up the trellis, their thorny stems intertwining with the lattice in a tenacious display of nature's will.
As we made our way down the sandy path, the crunch of damp sand and hollow shells bounced off the nearby dunes, sending whispers across the landscape. The salty breeze tugged at my clothes, imbuing them with that distinct, briny scent of the sea. With the day waning, long shadows stretched out, dancing like silent phantoms against the sand.
“No one lives here?” Diane asked as we neared the cottage.
“Not at the moment,” I said, opening the small gate for her. “But I’m thinking of taking on a tenant, someone who can appreciate the beauty of this place as much as I do.” We moved ahead. “This area used to be nothing but sand and scrub brush until my husband had it cleared. He built the cottage for me shortly after we were married… Said if I was to be a properlawyer, I needed an escape—a sanctuary away from the world, where I could think and work in peace.”
“It sounds like he was a considerate man.”
“Yes, he was. Full of fire and compassion. He loved this place. But he loved me even more. He had a deep understanding of the world and of people. He could see what others couldn’t and had this uncanny ability to make dreams come true. I miss him dearly.”
We stepped onto the wooden porch of the cottage, our footsteps muted by the aged planks.
“I can’t get over this place,” Diane said as she turned and looked out at the ocean. “It’s so beautiful. Do you spend a lot of time out here?”
“When I was younger, I did. But these days, I mostly keep to the house.”
“So it just sits empty? What a shame.”
We approached the weather-beaten door. Peeling paint revealed layers of colors reflecting my changing tastes over the years. The brass doorknob was speckled with patches of green, evidence of the many seasons it had survived. The old door creaked open at my touch, revealing a light and airy interior. The cottage consisted of two large rooms, divided by a worn brick archway. One room was a combination of living area and kitchen, with a small bathroom tucked off to the side. A loft area above held an oversized king bed, complete with a white canopy that fluttered gently in the breeze from the open window. There was a rustic charm to it, a simplicity that belied its age and history. The wooden floorboards were worn smooth from years of use, their grain visible beneath the layers of lacquer. The walls were adorned with a smattering of old nautical maps and framed black and white photographs.
The kitchen was modest, with a fridge, stove, and well-worn wooden counters. A set of mismatched china filled the openshelves, alongside jars full of home-canned fruit preserves and pickles. A kettle sat on the stove, and next to it, two cups with tea bags waiting to be steeped. In the living area, a soft wool rug lay before a stone fireplace, the mantel adorned with seashells and small driftwood sculptures. An overstuffed armchair and a matching sofa, both upholstered in faded floral fabric, faced the hearth. And a small writing desk sat against the opposite wall beneath a window that overlooked the sea.
A sense of tranquility pervaded the room, as if time had stopped within its aged walls. It was a place where one could spend countless hours reading, writing, or simply contemplating the mysteries of life.
“Wow,” Diane said, her eyes wide as she took in the place. “This is…amazing. Like something out of a storybook.”
I smiled, pleased by her reaction. “Yes, it certainly feels that way sometimes. I’ve spent many an afternoon here, lost in the pages of a novel, the outside world forgotten.”
“Are these the books you were telling me about?” She pointed at the packed bookshelves that lined the far wall.
I nodded. “Each one has been a companion at some point. I began collecting books shortly after I moved to Kitty Hawk, and the collection has grown ever since. They’ve always been my escape.”
Diane moved further into the room, tracing her hand along the back of the sofa, her fingers lingering on the faded blooms woven into the fabric. Watching her explore, I was reminded of the first time I had stepped into this cottage, swept up in its charm.I was happy then, more so than I’d ever been in my life. Now, seeing her enchantment with the place, I felt that sense of joy returning.
“I envy whoever ends up staying here.” She paused, her attention drawn to the writing desk. “Oh, the stories longing to be written in this space. It’s inspiring.”
“I thought the same when I first walked into this room. Sadly, I’ve never been much of a writer.”
“I've always dreamed of having a place like this…a place where I could sit and let my mind wander. I can’t thank you enough for allowing me to stay here.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
For a moment, she seemed lost in thought, her eyes distant and dreamy. Eventually, she turned back to me and said, “Believe it or not, I too lost my husband recently. His name was Kyle. Before he died, we had talked about finding a place on the ocean, where we could hear the call of the gulls and the whisper of the tide. We dreamed of raising our family there and spending our twilight years watching the sunsets and letting the sounds of the sea lull us to sleep.” She paused and shook away the melancholy that seemed to have settled upon her. “But now, it’s just me and my daughter, Cassie.”
Caught off guard by her confession, I felt a sudden pang of empathy. “I’m terribly sorry for your loss. I didn't realize…”
“Thank you. It’s been hard, but we’re doing the best we can. One day at a time, right?”
“To have your dreams taken from you is a cruel thing.”
“It's like a piece of you is ripped away, leaving a gaping hole that never quite heals.” Eventually, she forced a small smile. “I’m sorry for unloading all that on you. It’s just…this place reminds me so much of him and the dreams we once had.”
“There’s no need to apologize, dear. And if you’d rather stay in the house with me and Judy, you’re more than welcome to do so.”
“No, this is perfect. I think this is exactly where I need to be.”