ached as he thought of it, and he clasped the pendant tightly, feeling it press exactly where its phantom twin had been carved. He almost expected to feel the drip of fresh blood.
Light footsteps sounded in the hall. He didn't turn, but moments later, Kat was there, her hands light on his shoulders. He saw her reflected in the window, slender with long legs, long dark hair and dark brown eyes that showed up black in her reflection. She wore only a long t-shirt and he reached back to stroke her thigh, running his palm up a little way beneath the soft cotton to give her a gentle squeeze.
"What's wrong?" she asked softly.
"Nothing," he replied, not sure if he was lying. "I had a bad dream, is all. I couldn't sleep, and I didn't want to wake you, so I came out to watch the waves for a while."
The red hint of dawn licked at the edges of the horizon. Katrina leaned close and kissed his neck, letting her hair fall over his shoulder and tickle his cheek.
"What was the dream?" she asked.
Abraham stared out over the ocean, thinking. "It was an old nightmare," he said at last. "One I thought I'd left far behind me. I'd rather not talk about it now, but I'll tell you."
"No secrets," she said.
The words had the ring of a mantra, a statement that she only half-believed, and Abraham felt a pang of guilt. Katrina had come to him fresh from bad years, and it wasn't always easy for her to believe how much she meant to him.
"No secrets," he agreed. "I promised that long ago. I'll tell you, I'm just not quite ready to revisit it. I guess I'm afraid if I start talking about the bad memories and thinking about them that this won't be the last of the nightmares. I don't know if I'm ready to wake that dragon all the way."
She kissed him again, satisfied, and turned toward the kitchen.
"I'll make coffee."
He glanced down at the beach, but the rising sun had banished all hint of symbols and shadows, and suddenly the nightmare, and the fear it had brought seemed almost silly. He rose decisively.
"I'm going to go down for a run," he called over his shoulder.
He changed into shorts and an old battered t-shirt and stretched carefully, loosening the muscles and tendons in his legs. Kat came back into the room with a steaming cup of coffee in her hand. She sipped and watched him quietly. "Careful," she said somberly. "Don't tear anything important." Abraham grinned, rose to his feet, kissed her on the cheek, and slipped out the door.
The morning sun was just starting to tease heat from the sand in soft waves, and the morning breeze was cool, blowing in off the waves. Abraham started off slowly down the access path to the beach. He would keep the slower pace for the first half mile or so, then, when he was loose and on the open sand, he'd push it for a couple of miles and then turn back.
The beach never lost its magic for him. In all the years of his childhood, the times he remembered best were the few trips down from the mountain with his father, seeing the ocean for the first time and feeling the tug at his heart as waves crashed up over huge damp stones and lapped at the endless sand of the beach. Now it was all so much a part of him that the idea of living isolated on a mountain seemed alien and surreal.
By the time he hit the damp, hard packed sand near the water and turned up the beach, all thoughts of white stone faces and bloody symbols had faded to the haze in the back of his mind.
Katrina heard the familiar chug of the small mail truck drawing up to the end of their drive, and she stepped onto the porch with a smile. She shaded her eyes against the sun and saw the young woman who delivered their mail wave as she ducked back into her truck and headed down the feeder road, hitting each cottage in its turn and winding back out toward the coast road back into San Valencez. Katrina left her coffee on the small wicker table on the porch and walked lazily out to the mailbox.
She knew Abe was expecting
Light footsteps sounded in the hall. He didn't turn, but moments later, Kat was there, her hands light on his shoulders. He saw her reflected in the window, slender with long legs, long dark hair and dark brown eyes that showed up black in her reflection. She wore only a long t-shirt and he reached back to stroke her thigh, running his palm up a little way beneath the soft cotton to give her a gentle squeeze.
"What's wrong?" she asked softly.
"Nothing," he replied, not sure if he was lying. "I had a bad dream, is all. I couldn't sleep, and I didn't want to wake you, so I came out to watch the waves for a while."
The red hint of dawn licked at the edges of the horizon. Katrina leaned close and kissed his neck, letting her hair fall over his shoulder and tickle his cheek.
"What was the dream?" she asked.
Abraham stared out over the ocean, thinking. "It was an old nightmare," he said at last. "One I thought I'd left far behind me. I'd rather not talk about it now, but I'll tell you."
"No secrets," she said.
The words had the ring of a mantra, a statement that she only half-believed, and Abraham felt a pang of guilt. Katrina had come to him fresh from bad years, and it wasn't always easy for her to believe how much she meant to him.
"No secrets," he agreed. "I promised that long ago. I'll tell you, I'm just not quite ready to revisit it. I guess I'm afraid if I start talking about the bad memories and thinking about them that this won't be the last of the nightmares. I don't know if I'm ready to wake that dragon all the way."
She kissed him again, satisfied, and turned toward the kitchen.
"I'll make coffee."
He glanced down at the beach, but the rising sun had banished all hint of symbols and shadows, and suddenly the nightmare, and the fear it had brought seemed almost silly. He rose decisively.
"I'm going to go down for a run," he called over his shoulder.
He changed into shorts and an old battered t-shirt and stretched carefully, loosening the muscles and tendons in his legs. Kat came back into the room with a steaming cup of coffee in her hand. She sipped and watched him quietly. "Careful," she said somberly. "Don't tear anything important." Abraham grinned, rose to his feet, kissed her on the cheek, and slipped out the door.
The morning sun was just starting to tease heat from the sand in soft waves, and the morning breeze was cool, blowing in off the waves. Abraham started off slowly down the access path to the beach. He would keep the slower pace for the first half mile or so, then, when he was loose and on the open sand, he'd push it for a couple of miles and then turn back.
The beach never lost its magic for him. In all the years of his childhood, the times he remembered best were the few trips down from the mountain with his father, seeing the ocean for the first time and feeling the tug at his heart as waves crashed up over huge damp stones and lapped at the endless sand of the beach. Now it was all so much a part of him that the idea of living isolated on a mountain seemed alien and surreal.
By the time he hit the damp, hard packed sand near the water and turned up the beach, all thoughts of white stone faces and bloody symbols had faded to the haze in the back of his mind.
Katrina heard the familiar chug of the small mail truck drawing up to the end of their drive, and she stepped onto the porch with a smile. She shaded her eyes against the sun and saw the young woman who delivered their mail wave as she ducked back into her truck and headed down the feeder road, hitting each cottage in its turn and winding back out toward the coast road back into San Valencez. Katrina left her coffee on the small wicker table on the porch and walked lazily out to the mailbox.
She knew Abe was expecting
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