friend in Seaside--your roommate in
college."
Her friend the sex fiend. The memory overtook
her as she recalled the morning Jason had surprised her stepping
from the shower, and a heady feeling of warmth suffused her body
despite the fact that she was alone. She took a deep breath. "I've
decided not to after all. I'll probably leave early in the
afternoon but I'll stop by the shop as soon as I get in."
As it was, Samantha debated telling her
mother about Jason as she loaded her suitcase into the back seat of
her dark blue Volkswagen on Friday. She and her mother had a very
close relationship. They'd had to, since all they'd had was each
other for so many years. But what could she say? "Mom, I've met the
most fantastic man. He's all I ever wanted..."
She could almost hear her mother's cheerful
hopeful tone. "Sounds serious, Samantha. Is it?"
And then what would she say? "It could be,
if I let it. At least for me. But never for him. You see, he
doesn't believe in love." No, the subject of Jason was better left
untouched.
She had a very pleasant visit with her
mother and some old friends, stayed five days, and came home on
Wednesday. But the slight upswing in her mood didn't last more than
a few minutes after she pulled into the driveway. She couldn't help
but notice that Jason's silver BMW was conspicuously absent from
the driveway next door. A thick layer of sand covered the small
block of asphalt, crunching under her sandals as she stepped out.
The surf was roiling and vicious looking as it washed up on the
sand, the foam-flecked waves matching the leaden-gray color of the
sky. Overhead was a thick layer of clouds, churning and twisting as
they forged their way north.
A fierce gust of wind blew her hair across
her face as she searched her purse for the key. She was still
combing her fingers through it to restore a little order when she
set her suitcase down in the living room and walked toward the
kitchen.
She stopped short on the threshold. She was
never sure why, but her eyes were drawn upward to the plaster
ceiling. "Oh, no!" she groaned. What she saw made her heart sink.
Several large splotches marred the surface of the plaster. Dammit,
her roof was leaking! It had rained lightly in Astoria the night
before and that morning, but there must have been a downpour here.
Her mouth drooping, she changed into jeans and an old plaid shirt,
heaved a ladder from the garage and clambered onto the roof.
She was cautiously optimistic about what she
found. A number of faded black shingles in an area above the
kitchen were either damaged or completely blown off, but she was
hopeful that the entire roof wouldn't need to be replaced--at least
not right now. A few more years and she wouldn't mind, but her
little car was also showing signs of wear and tear. She couldn't
pay for a new roof if she couldn't make it to her job, and a new
car would probably have to take priority over a new roof.
Mindful of the blustery wind, she made her
way slowly down the sloping incline toward the ladder. She was
nearly there when a fierce gust of wind snatched at the lightweight
aluminum ladder. It toppled over in front of her horrified eyes and
crashed to the ground.
"Lord, what next?" she moaned aloud. She
crept to the edge and looked down. The house was old, higher than
many of its low-slung contemporaries. It was maybe fourteen feet to
the ground. Her eyes shifted toward the beach. It was deserted,
except for a few people several hundred yards away, too far for
them to hear a shout for help.
The wind tore at her hair and shirt, its
chill penetrating the thin cloth. She shivered. At times, late
June on the Oregon coast wasn't much warmer than any other month of
the year. Samantha looked down again, an odd feeling in the pit of
her stomach. She had no choice but to jump. The sidewalk edged the
house, and she doubted she could clear it and make a cushioned
landing on the grass.
"Oh, well," she murmured in meager
consolation, "at least if I break
college."
Her friend the sex fiend. The memory overtook
her as she recalled the morning Jason had surprised her stepping
from the shower, and a heady feeling of warmth suffused her body
despite the fact that she was alone. She took a deep breath. "I've
decided not to after all. I'll probably leave early in the
afternoon but I'll stop by the shop as soon as I get in."
As it was, Samantha debated telling her
mother about Jason as she loaded her suitcase into the back seat of
her dark blue Volkswagen on Friday. She and her mother had a very
close relationship. They'd had to, since all they'd had was each
other for so many years. But what could she say? "Mom, I've met the
most fantastic man. He's all I ever wanted..."
She could almost hear her mother's cheerful
hopeful tone. "Sounds serious, Samantha. Is it?"
And then what would she say? "It could be,
if I let it. At least for me. But never for him. You see, he
doesn't believe in love." No, the subject of Jason was better left
untouched.
She had a very pleasant visit with her
mother and some old friends, stayed five days, and came home on
Wednesday. But the slight upswing in her mood didn't last more than
a few minutes after she pulled into the driveway. She couldn't help
but notice that Jason's silver BMW was conspicuously absent from
the driveway next door. A thick layer of sand covered the small
block of asphalt, crunching under her sandals as she stepped out.
The surf was roiling and vicious looking as it washed up on the
sand, the foam-flecked waves matching the leaden-gray color of the
sky. Overhead was a thick layer of clouds, churning and twisting as
they forged their way north.
A fierce gust of wind blew her hair across
her face as she searched her purse for the key. She was still
combing her fingers through it to restore a little order when she
set her suitcase down in the living room and walked toward the
kitchen.
She stopped short on the threshold. She was
never sure why, but her eyes were drawn upward to the plaster
ceiling. "Oh, no!" she groaned. What she saw made her heart sink.
Several large splotches marred the surface of the plaster. Dammit,
her roof was leaking! It had rained lightly in Astoria the night
before and that morning, but there must have been a downpour here.
Her mouth drooping, she changed into jeans and an old plaid shirt,
heaved a ladder from the garage and clambered onto the roof.
She was cautiously optimistic about what she
found. A number of faded black shingles in an area above the
kitchen were either damaged or completely blown off, but she was
hopeful that the entire roof wouldn't need to be replaced--at least
not right now. A few more years and she wouldn't mind, but her
little car was also showing signs of wear and tear. She couldn't
pay for a new roof if she couldn't make it to her job, and a new
car would probably have to take priority over a new roof.
Mindful of the blustery wind, she made her
way slowly down the sloping incline toward the ladder. She was
nearly there when a fierce gust of wind snatched at the lightweight
aluminum ladder. It toppled over in front of her horrified eyes and
crashed to the ground.
"Lord, what next?" she moaned aloud. She
crept to the edge and looked down. The house was old, higher than
many of its low-slung contemporaries. It was maybe fourteen feet to
the ground. Her eyes shifted toward the beach. It was deserted,
except for a few people several hundred yards away, too far for
them to hear a shout for help.
The wind tore at her hair and shirt, its
chill penetrating the thin cloth. She shivered. At times, late
June on the Oregon coast wasn't much warmer than any other month of
the year. Samantha looked down again, an odd feeling in the pit of
her stomach. She had no choice but to jump. The sidewalk edged the
house, and she doubted she could clear it and make a cushioned
landing on the grass.
"Oh, well," she murmured in meager
consolation, "at least if I break
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