When I arrived at the boathouse, I laid out the blanket in the shade of it, I set out a few of the items but figured it would be better to wait for Naiva to arrive before unpacking the lunch I’d brought.
“I hope she hasn’t eaten yet,” I muttered as I reached into the basket and extracted the leather-bound journal I dug out of my trunk in my room at the house.
I’d debated on how to win Naiva over and came to the conclusion I would need to prove to her that my infatuation with her wasn’t something new or short-lived. It was something I’d felt for so many years that her memory had taken on a life of its own.
Time ticked by and I pulled out my cell to check the time. Naiva should have been here by now. I stood up and paced back and forth in front of the blanket.
“I’m a dumbass,” I groaned.
Most likely Naiva had to work. I hadn’t even taken into consideration that she wouldn’t be able to drop everything to meet me.
Rushing to pack everything back up, I hefted the basket and jogged down the beach toward the Aisley Bed and Breakfast. I approached the patio where Naiva had found me the night before.
Manners had me juggling the basket as I held the door for a few customers to exit. Once the two older ladies moved off while giggling about something with their heads close together, I moved inside of the cafe and looked behind the counter to see Naiva helping an older gentleman select a pastry.
She mesmerized me with both her patience and her knowledge as she explained what was in each of the pastries the man asked about.
“I just don’t know. I have it narrowed down to either the lemon tart or the strawberry-rhubarb streusel. The lemon is probably higher in sugar…” The soft voice of the older man was soothing as he drummed his fingers against the glass of the case.
“Oh, yes. The lemon is mostly sugar,” Naiva chuckled and reached for a box and quickly placed one of each of the pastries in the box. “Here you are, Mr. Lomas, that’ll be four dollars even.”
The man lifted his chin and gave her a huge smile as he fished out his wallet and pulled forth a five-dollar bill – “Here you are, Naiva. Keep the change.”
She exchanged the box for the money and gave the man a huge smile.
“Oh my, thank you, Mr. Lomas. You have a great day and give your wife my best.”
Standing off to the side, Naiva didn’t see me until after Mr. Lomas had exited and she turned to offer her assistance.
“What can I get –” Her voice trailed off and something crossed her features.
I felt as if a knife sliced through my heart.
“Naiva?” I whispered as I approached. Something told me I wasn’t going to like what I felt coming.
“Good morning, Mr. Noch, what would you like?” she asked without any warmness.
“Naiva… why didn’t you meet me?” There was no point beating around the bush. Better to rip off the bandage and get it over with.
“Mr. Noch –”
“Jack. My name is Jack to you,” I corrected.
“Look, Mr. Noch, last night was fun and all… but I’m at work and if you’re not here to purchase something… then, have a nice day.” Each trembling word stabbed into my heart. My heart which broke when she turned on her heel and went to the kitchen.
My throat began to close up and I staggered back a step.
“No…” I gasped and pushed away the fear and loss. “I’m not giving up.”
Rounding the counter, I followed Naiva’s path into the kitchen. I found her once again chopping vegetables. Flashbacks to the night before solidified my determination and I walked up to her and set the basket on the work table.
“What happened?” I asked.
Naiva continued to chop and ignored me.
“Damn it, Naiva, talk to me.” I stabbed my hand into my hair in agitation. “Please, talk to me,” I amended.
“I told you… it was fun,” she whispered. “Why can’t you just let it go?”
“Because I love you!” I snapped and reached out to take the knife from her so I could grip her by the shoulders and turn her to face me. “Last night wasn’t a one-night thing. I gave you my heart.”
A sob passed her lips and she dropped her chin so that she could hide her gaze. Reaching for her chin, I tipped it up and she briefly met my eyes before squeezing her eyes shut.
“You and I… we’re from different worlds…” The pain in her tone almost broke me.
“Naiva, don’t you understand? You are my world.” I leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to each of her eyelids and then to her mouth.
“Please, Jack…” she rasped through her tears.
“Look, I brought something to show you. To prove to you that my feelings are real and that I’ve had them for a long time.” I released Naiva and turned to the basket, I dug inside and pulled out the journal.
Gulping down my nerves, I handed the leather-bound volume to her.
Naiva took her reluctantly and stared at the cover for several minutes before inhaling and flipping it open. I watched her eyes move across the first few pages before she looked up at me.
“This is your diary,” she gasped.
“Yes. From when I visited during those summers when I was a teenager,” I agreed.
Naiva continued to scan the pages and then she stopped with a soft gasp. I looked down at the pages at a drawing I’d done of her. It was from the last time I saw her. She’d been sitting on the beach, staring off at the distant horizon. I’d been able to sit on a rock at a good angle and had drawn her in an attempt to memorize her.
“It’s not very good,” I admitted. “But that’s the last day I’d seen
