it on the dock. She said, “I have potato salad, two kinds of sandwiches, havarti cheese, some fruit and a bottle of chardonnay that’s still cold, and brownies. All are homemade, except the wine, of course. Would you do the honors?” She handed O’Brien the wine bottle and a corkscrew. He removed the cork and poured wine into two glasses that Maggie took out of the basket.
“Let’s toast to life and a beautiful sunset,” Maggie said, raising her glass to O’Brien. They touched glasses and began eating. Max finished her food and waited patiently for a tidbit more to make its way to the weathered dock.
“I can see how you love this place,” Maggie said, her eyes moving from the fiery clouds to the deep cherry red reflecting off the surface of the river. “It’s so quiet, so beautiful, and even primordial. Look! There’s an eagle.” A bald eagle dropped out of the sky and snatched a fish from the burgundy surface. The bird flapped its powerful wings and flew to the top of a dead cypress tree to eat.
O’Brien saw the sunset in Maggie’s caramel eyes, her face full of life and awe as she watched the colors change across the sky and water. She smiled with her eyes. That’s what he remembered most about the times they’d spent together long ago. It was her passion and appreciation for the simple, natural things in life. And this was what he had loved so much about his wife, Sherri, before her death. O’Brien glanced at the sunset and back at Maggie. He thought her profile was as beautiful today as it was the time he first saw it more than twenty years ago. Her chestnut hair was thick and soft and seemed to trap the golden light. She turned and met his eyes. “Maggie … I don’t know if ….”
“Shhh, Sean. We don’t need to say anything right now. Let’s give nature a chance to do the talking. No words can describe this beauty.”
“I was thinking the same thing.”
After dinner, Maggie closed the picnic basket, and O’Brien refilled the glasses. Max jumped up on the bench and lay down next to O’Brien while the sun melted into molten gold and merlot colors across the surface of the river. The sky was painted in wide brushstrokes of scarlet and deep purple. A white pelican sailed across the river.
Maggie said, “I know it’s been more than twenty years, but I’m comfortable here with you. It’s as if time has been some invisible milepost, a vapor that’s gone out of a bottle, and here we are today. I hope that didn’t sound presumptuous. If it did, I apologize.”
“No reason for you to apologize.”
Maggie laughed. “Sean, do you remember that time we first walked on the beach? You reached out and held my hand. It caught me by surprise for a moment, and then it felt very much a part of that moment in time.”
“I remember.”
“Would you hold my hand again? Maybe for old times’ sake, I’d like to remember this beautiful moment in time, too.”
O’Brien reached over and held Maggie’s hand. They sat there in silence, the three of them. A breeze blew up river causing the surface to ripple in a tapestry of indigo and mauve. Max rested her chin on O’Brien’s thigh, the moving colors of sky and water dancing in her half closed eyes.
Across the river, O’Brien heard a nightingale begin to sing, its first song sweet as the smell of honeysuckles in the evening air.
