By the Letter – 2 –
The next day Deirdre was up fairly early for her first holiday morning. She made herself breakfast and took her time eating it. The weather looked much the same as yesterday, at least from her window looking down at the small city of
The weather was the same, with a northeast wind towards the coast feeling a bit more persistent than yesterday, just as her book described it. This time taking the first step down on the path, Deirdre was better prepared about the walk and the book describing it than yesterday, which was what she thought anyway.
She had read the book much more carefully this time, taking more notice of details and such, and it all matched perfectly, the same as yesterday. The wind blew her hair in all directions as it bent sideways, up, and over the cliff in all directions. A bit chilly yes, but not cold.
She had started her walk an hour and a half earlier than yesterday, and that changed the light coming down from the spattered sky, with the sun sneaking in now and then among the clouds passing swiftly. The old trees hadn’t started to produce buds yet, and in some places their silver bark sparkled brightly when the sun broke through to illuminate their trunk. Much of the ground was covered with the leaves of early spring flowers, with a few early flowers twinkling, rising above the surface here and there. In the shadows of the trees the ground looked invitingly deep green, and closer to the path plants revealed more detail, especially when sunbeams spotlighted them.
In some places the path narrowed with high hedges on both sides, making her feel like she was walking in an alley of erupting flowers and green. Many of the bushes were in full bloom, and she could feel the spring entering by their colors. The wind took much of their pleasant smell with it, but it brought the presence of the nearby sea to her attention.
It looked quite wild down there with waves smashing together and bumping the back of the cliff. But the sea wasn’t angry; instead it was playing some kind of game with the waves chasing each other. On one particular spot below, a small boat was in the middle of it all jumping up and down as if on a trampoline.
Deirdre enjoyed the sight and stayed there high above for a while feeling the wind. Then, as she started to continue her walk, she thought, “What about the book? Does it describe the sea and that boat?” Deirdre had to go back and check.
Strange: the book did describe it all, and yet she couldn’t recall having read that before. Strange also was that the person who had written it must have spent as much time as she had standing on the cliff path watching. Deirdre nearly turned the book inside out trying to see if something hidden would fall out, but nothing did. She laughed at herself enjoying the mystery.
Not far away she came back to the bay with the tower and the restaurant. This time Deirdre thought of being strict on keeping her diet; she had had too many culinary excursions lately and had to get in shape. At least that was what she thought. Especially as, going down the slope and the steps to the beach, her left knee started to hurt. This slowed her down, and some people passed her by, but she got down without too much effort.
A large cup of cappuccino was what she ordered while sitting outside on a bench at a table that was spread out on the lawn next to the wall. The wind didn’t reach this far in the bay, and the sun had found a big tear in the sky where clouds passed aside. It all was so friendly, and again the book she brought described it all to the T.
Deirdre stayed there for a while, of course, as the sun spread a certain joy in her body. It got a bit warmer and she had to unbutton her coat to feel the air. After she had finished her coffee, it was steps up again on the cliff, and up was no problem with her sore knee. On the way she enjoyed some lookouts; they offered newly painted green benches, but Deirdre preferred to stand to enjoy the views.
The trip back to town took a bit longer this time as her knee hurt going downhill, but she managed well without too much pain and was able to enjoy the walk once more.
But there was something, a feeling she had, that someone was following. When almost back in town she turned around, looking back up along the path to verify her feeling, but no one was there.
However, that feeling didn’t go away, as if someone beyond the bend was hiding, waiting. Deirdre stood there for a while, but nothing happened, and once again she arrived at her apartment after yet another happy, joyful walk.
She made herself lunch, a quarter of a honeydew melon, and her diet dinner happened to allow her a small bowl of fresh, tasty crabmeat and some sliced, boiled carrots, with water on the side. “Okay,” Deirdre thought, “I have to get in shape, and that is it.”
However, later that evening, with an after-dinner coffee and her book at hand, she read that the author, whoever that was, also had felt pain in her left knee that had slowed her down. But how … and by the way, her? Why her? Couldn’t it be a man just the same? That the book didn’t tell. There was no description at all of the person who had written the book or the person described making this week walks that long time ago.
But there was more, as Deirdre turned the pages to the beginning, as if she were searching, and she started to read between the lines.
