Ashleigh's Dilemma by J. D. Reid Page B

this…” Having carefully gone through each one, she returned it to its place on the wall beside her fridge, the correct month showing. “I get one ever year,” she had added casting her eyes off to the side and blushing as if she had suddenly realized she had revealed something about herself she had not intended to: not arrogance; just shyness, he knew now.
     
    The first night had been a total wash. Some of the gear was wet from Ashleigh’s tumble. They were tired and she was anxious so he didn’t press. There were no zipped up bags that night. They stayed an extra day on Gibraltar to dry their gear and rest. The swells died down and Ashleigh practiced coming into the shore, climbing out, and dragging the boat up as high as she could manage. The September weather was beautiful and cool: perfect weather. It rained late at night and once in the morning, but that was alright. They walked for miles along the beach and then in the opposite direction. They talked and talked, and laughed. They shared the duties: hanging the clothes to dry, the bedding to air, cooking each meal together. They stayed up late at night feeding the fire watching the blue flames dance and, just before bed, stepping away from the fire and looking up at the silent banner of stars.
    “I have never heard such silence,” she had wh ispered leaning back into him; “I can hear my heart.” She turned about keeping within the circle of his arms and looked up; “…And I can hear yours!” laughing with him at the incredulity of it all.
    On the second day they broke camp and paddled to the next island in the chain.  It took only a few hours. Coming ashore and setting up was effortless, fun.
    Just before the sunset on their third day, Patrick slipped into the tent and began to zip the sleeping bags together. Ashleigh followed him in. She smiled on the way in but would not meet his eyes; nor did she say a word but helped him adjust the combined bags over their air mattresses. She set the pillows comprised of their clothing inside the bags to keep the dampness out as he secured their packs ensuring no creatures would climb inside. When done, not once having said a word or so much as glanced in his direction, she crawled back out and sat by the fire slowly building it up from a pile of driftwood they had gathered earlier. He followed her out and scooped out a place in the warm gravel beside her so that he faced the sun with his back against the driftwood Ashleigh sat upon, and his feet extended outward.
    “If this is not heaven then what could heaven be?” he sighed settling back further, pulling his hat down while pushing his sunglasses up.
    Ashleigh quietly laughed and placed a larger piece on the fire.
    Patrick pushed himself upright and turned so he was on his knees facing her.
    “Have you ever been kissed on a stone beach, in the middle of… as the sun…?” “Don’t even think of it!” she laughed.
    Late that night, dinner done, the pots and dishes cleaned, the first stars out, the chill and dampness slipping down the sides of the mountains and creeping out from the dark cavern of the fo rest, the sea perfectly calm mirroring the sky and the distant mountains, they sat close together staring into the dancing flames. She sat with her back against him for added warmth; he sat next to her with his wrapped about her, with the promise of the evening, and even the rest of their lives, still ahead of them.
     
    A light mist was rising before the nearest island almost black against the undisturbed and sun-scattered sound. The tide was in and there was a slight swell reaching up the shore and sweeping back; he could hear the tumbling of the rocks as the waves retreated. He could also hear Ashleigh stepping across the stones to the edge of pool – short steps, hesitant, almost the only sound in a perfect morning. There was a long pause – and then she was in. He could hear her hit the water – glass and ice breaking and scattering away - and then