The gray eyes were back again. Then Mikhail looked away toward the sea as he said, “Your parents, they were not there?”
“Oh, they would have been, I know that. I was born very late in their lives. Dad had a heart attack six months after my wedding, and Mom didn’t make it a month after he died. And as they had both been onlies, I didn’t have relatives to offer my kids.”
“But now your children are back again in your life?”
“Yes, I’m glad to say.”
“That is excellent.” His smile brightened, and there were the warm silver eyes again. “It was your daughter, then, who fou
nd you?”
“It was my son, actually. He refused to follow in the tracks his father had designed for him—prestigious university, meeting the right people, a lucrative career—and went into the Marine Corps. Before being posted overseas he had to fill out papers for next of kin. When he went to write my name in, he didn’t even know if I still used my husband’s name or if I had gone back to Worcester. He decided to find me, and to ask why he didn’t know, if I had abandoned them in truth. At first it was . . . difficult, but he listened to me.”
“I trust it was a good reunion?” His eyes were warm and silvery again. That angry slate gray had to be a trick of the light.
“It was wonderful. Wonderful. He came back again, and that time he brought Bec. They chose to visit me last Thanksgiving, and, well, here we are.” Conscious that she had been talking for a long time, she said, “I hope you were more successful with Fei Zhan?”
“Not really.” Mikhail’s smile twisted. “There was no battle for custody. His mother and I parted amicably and remain cordial. I have only myself to blame for my lack of success. I traveled so much when he was small that when I did return, and brought him something, it always seemed to be out of date. Something he’d grown out of. I did not know him, and seemed an intruder in his life. We were . . . distant... for a long time. But when he became a young man and joined the family business, we reconnected. He had the generosity of spirit to forgive my absence in his life. We have a good understanding now, for which I am grateful.”
“I’m so glad,” she said, handing her empty cup back. “Knowing my kids is such a joy. Their father might be disappointed in their life paths, but I’m very proud of both. Skater’s a career Marine, and he’s dating a wonderful young woman who makes him happy. Bec is going back to school to study what she always wanted to do, which is music therapy for autistic kids. She was . . . pushed toward corporate law, worked at it for three years, and hates it.”
“I honor them for their choices,” he said gravely.
Bird’s heart swelled. She blinked, then discovered how far they had come down the length of the beach. The cave-riddled palisades loomed large. “We’re here! There’s the old rest station.”
Mikhail accepted the subject change with the calm that she was beginning to suspect was part of his nature. “Was this once a public beach then? I did test the water in that old shower contraption over there. I was surprised that it still runs.”
“Yes, it used to be public. The town council closed it down after we had some landslides,” Bird said, pointing at the cliffs. “But they left the water running. I wouldn’t drink it, but the fishers use it to wash off their boats.”
“Did you happen to bring a flashlight? I apologize, I neglected to mention that it is quite dark in there.”
She stopped. “I didn’t! I can run home and get mine—I’m only ten minutes away.”
“Ah, no need, I brought an extra in case.” Mikhail pulled out a good-sized incandescent flash as well as a headlamp flashlight, and brandished them. “These should be adequate to sketch by.”
The palisades always reminded her of melted candle wax. The caves were like hollows. Though she’d lived in Playa del Encanto for twenty-seven years, she had never ventured a foot inside the caves. Squishing through the wet sand into the dim space, she was aware of how safe she felt with this man she had not known forty-eight hours ago, and yet felt as if she had known him all her life.
“Hold your nose,” he cautioned, smiling ruefully. “Those who sneak in here don’t appear to make personal hygiene a priority.”
“Ugh,” she said, laughing as she glanced around. “The graffiti slathered all over the walls doesn’t look much better.”
He said, “It’ll get much darker once we get around this rock up here. Would you prefer the headlamp or the incandescent?”
“I’ll carry the lamp, if you’re more used to the one you wear,” she said.
Mikhail handed the larger lamp to her, adjusted the head lamp, and turned it on. They paced inside. Once they got farther in, the smell of trash gave way to a more pleasant scent of stone and brine. As their beams of light played over the rough stone curving overhead, a sense of adventure accelerated Bird’s heartbeat. She was having fun, poking in this weird space, with this man at her side.
Here much of the graffiti and illegible scrawls were scoured away by seawater. Before long, the ground abruptly became more rocky, the entry more narrow. There was no more graffiti, and the rock was lighter—less exposed to wind and water.
“This must be where the quake shook loose,” she said. Her voice sounded odd, not quite an echo.
“Indeed it is. Let’s slow a bit, shall we? This next area is a lot more rocky. As you can see, the stone cracked significantly here.”
Mikhail played his light slowly up a mighty crevice at least four stories high. “Careful there—that rubble is loose. Would you like a hand?”
“I’m good,” Bird said uncertainly. She gazed up at that crack, feeling the sheer weight of the stone overhead. An oppressive sense that made her want to turn away.
“I have explored here thoroughly,” Mikhail said gently. “It’s sturdy enough for our venture. Here, let me help you over this rubble.”