Radclyffe's Tomorrow's Promise

Excerpt

Whitley Point looked different to Adrienne by daylight. She awakened to early morning sunlight streaming through the open windows onto her bed. She showered, luxuriating in the cool stream of water that seemed to wash away more than the after-effects of a twelve-hour drive. She began to relax for the first time in weeks. The ocean beckoned to her, and she looked forward to a walk on the beach. The May morning was cool, and she pulled a sweater on over a tee shirt and jeans. She frowned at the loose fit of her clothes. She had lost weight, and at five-eight she had never had much to spare even when at her healthiest. That's behind you, now she reminded herself, wishing she could believe it.

She followed a well-worn path down toward the water, winding between rippling dunes that separated the beach from the inner island. As she walked, she noticed houses secluded behind clusters of trees that hadn’t been apparent the night before. Even by daylight, they blended unobtrusively with the landscape, and she noted appreciatively how the construction and clean simple design of the buildings preserved the natural beauty of the environment. It was obvious that someone had gone to considerable effort to protect the wild nature of the island.

The sound of the surf led her north, and when she rounded the last dune, she halted abruptly. Stretched before her was one of the most beautiful coastlines she had ever seen. In either direction, the beach undulated between the ocean and the rising sands for as far as she could see. On the seaward side of the island, the waves came in at full strength, cresting and breaking off shore. She stood still for some time, listening to the rhythm of the sea. Finally, she began to walk toward the far end of the island, following the irregular shoreline. The tide was on its way out. Sand crabs scuttled along the wet beach, disappearing into holes in the sand as she drew near. She used to make a game of trying to sneak up on them, but she had never gotten close. They were private creatures.

Now she didn’t impinge on their desire for solitude. She understood it. Lately she had begun to feel somewhat like the shy creatures herself. She avoided people as much as possible, and when she could not, she remained politely aloof. She had withdrawn into herself as instinctively as the little animals did into their sanctuaries in the sand. She was barely aware of her behavior, it had occurred so gradually over the past year. It had become increasingly difficult for her to maintain the kinds of relationships she had once enjoyed. She could sense the change in people's attitudes towards her, and rather than struggle with their discomfort and her own, she had simply adjusted to it.

Such thoughts were far from her conscious mind now, however. The gusting wind from the water invigorated her, and she wished she had worn running shoes. Adrienne smiled at the thought. She hadn’t run in months. It had once been a daily ritual for her—to rise early and run on the beach. It had helped her to face the hours of meetings and indoor obligations with equanimity. This morning she occupied herself instead with getting to know her new surroundings. The East Coast was very different from Southern California, where she had lived for the last fifteen years. The shoreline was lower, less threatening; the ocean somehow mellower. The ever-present power of the raging Pacific was absent here, but the sea nevertheless seemed fathomless, full of secrets.

 Adrienne found herself wondering if the answers to her many questions lay hidden on the barren expanse of this shore. She had never felt so alone, so unable to confide in anyone. She didn't know how to voice her deep uncertainties. Almost out of necessity, she had learned to accept her solitude. The loneliness that accompanied it had become a familiar companion.

As she rounded a bend in the island, almost a mile from where she had started, she saw a large dark, shaggy shape rise up out of the ground not twenty feet in front of her. She stopped suddenly, stifling a cry of surprise, and stared at the apparition. After a moment she laughed quietly to herself when she recognized the square head and massive body of a Newfoundland. The dog stood motion­less, surveying her with a calm but curious expression.

Adrienne advanced slowly, softly calling, “Hi there, pooch. What are you doing out here so early, huh?” The dog didn’t seem at all disturbed by her presence, but Adrienne was wary. She didn’t relish the thought of an early morning sprint down the beach with an angry dog at her heels.

She gasped in shock, close enough now to see a body crumpled in the sand on the far side of the vigilant animal. Images from a dozen movies -- the faithful companion guarding its master’s dead body --flashed through her head. She steeled herself for the horrible sight she was sure was to come, and advanced slowly, continuing to murmur in what she hoped was a reas­suring voice to the dog.

“Oh, Christ!” she muttered when she was close enough to see that the figure, half-turned away from her, was that of a woman. The curve of hip and disheveled collar-length hair left little room for doubt. Instinctively, she looked over her shoulder, wondering if some psychopath still lurked behind the dunes. The beach was deserted except for the dog and the still figure before her.

The dog’s tail was wagging, and Adrienne decided she could risk a closer look. Taking a deep breath, she grasped an arm and rolled the body over. The pale face was framed with tousled black hair, scattered throughout with bits of twigs and sand. Her features were boldly sculpted, with a strong nose and square chin framing full, rich lips. Just as Adrienne reached out tentatively to touch the woman's face, nearly translucent eyelids fluttered open to reveal dark, unfocused eyes. Adrienne stood transfixed, staring down, captured by those eyes. For an instant there was a hint of innocence, and something lost, swirling in their depths. It wasn’t until the searching gaze settled questioningly on Adrienne’s face that Adrienne found her voice.

“God, you frightened me! Are you hurt?” she exclaimed.

“Eternally,” a husky voice replied.

Adrienne leaned back a little as a powerful wave of alcoholic fumes exuding from the prone figure hit her.

“Bull,” Adrienne uttered in exasperation, annoyed now at her earlier fears, “You’re not hurt—you’re just drunk!”

The dark-haired stranger made an attempt to sit up and fell back into the sand groaning. “Right now that amounts to the same thing,” she gasped.

The whole scene was so ridiculous Adrienne had to laugh. “How long have you been here?”

“That depends,” came the weak reply. “If today is still Saturday—a few hours. If it’s not, then you’ll have to tell me.”

“Must have been some party,” Adrienne muttered as she watched the young woman finally manage to attain an upright position. She wore a light cotton shirt that was half unbuttoned, and Adrienne hastily averted her eyes from the full curve of barely covered breasts beneath. She could see that the arms supporting the woman’s bowed head were firmly but sleekly muscled, as were the denim-clad legs. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, a good ten years or so Adrienne's junior. Adrienne was caught staring as deep brown eyes, now clear, suddenly fixed her with piecing intensity, and the pale face lit up with a brilliant smile.

“Hello, by the way. I’m Tanner.”

“Adrienne Pierce,” Adrienne answered somewhat stiffly, annoyed that she had been caught up in this absurd melodrama. All she had wanted was a quiet walk on the beach!

Tanner leaned her cheek on her knee and studied the woman standing ramrod straight before her. Blue eyes like chips of flint met hers coolly. The face seemed flawless except for the signs of strain that showed in the fine lines around her mouth and eyes. Tanner wondered briefly what was bothering her so much, but the thought passed quickly as her pounding headache penetrated her slowly awakening mind.

“Ugh!” Tanner grimaced. “If I look half as bad as I feel, I’m surprised you didn’t run immediately for the body bag.”

Adrienne thought Tanner looked remarkably attractive for someone who had just spent the night in a drunken stupor on the ground, but she certainly wasn’t going to say so. “Well, I can’t say much for your choice of sleeping places,” she commented dryly. “Besides, your dog may be good company, but she isn’t big on protection. She let me walk right up to you.”

Tanner managed a slightly flirtatious grin despite her splitting headache. She wanted to crack that ice-cold facade. She wasn't sure why it should matter – but it did. “Sam probably knew I would be safe with you.”

Adrienne remained impassive. Tanner was lovely to be sure, with her devilish grin and confident charm, but she was obviously trouble. “Now that you’re awake, and reasonably oriented in time and space, I’ll leave you to find your way home when you’re up to it.” She turned to go but was restrained by a surprisingly firm grip on her arm. Tanner had risen and stood unsteadily beside her.

“Wait a minute, please,” Tanner said anxiously. “I don’t even know where you live. I’d like to talk to you sometime when I can make a more civilized impression.”

Adrienne laughed softly. “I have a feeling you’re never entirely civilized. Besides, I doubt that we’d have much in common. I’m here on R and R—that’s short for reading and resting at this particular point in time. A sabbatical of sorts from the real world. I’m sure you’d find that dull.”

Tanner regarded her intently, the expression on her face impossible to decipher. “Actually, Adrienne, all of us on Whitley Point are attempting to escape life in one way or another. It seems that you’ve come to the right place if it’s the real world you want to avoid.”

Adrienne was surprised by the thinly veiled bitterness in Tanner’s voice, but she didn’t want to probe for its source. She didn’t have the energy for someone else’s problems. She could barely manage her own. “I didn’t mean it quite the way it sounded,” she said lightly. “I’m just not very interested in socializing these days. Perhaps we will run into each other some time. Take care of yourself,” she finished lamely as she resolutely turned to leave.

Tanner watched the tall, thin figure striding purposefully away for a few seconds and then called to her retreating back, “Good-bye—and thanks for rescuing me!”

 Tomorrow's Promise  July 2003 from StarCrossed Productions