Pretty quickly they got into a groove. Amber did most of the writing, while he provided a lot of the content about victims as well as law enforcement expertise. They both worked on the technical stuff because they were not only drafting materials to send to various agencies, but they were also working on a public facing website for the program.
They understood each other, had a similar quick pace of work and matching visions for the program. Soon, the awkwardness faded away and they both delved deep into the project.
After several hours of hunching over the computer together, Amber stood and stretched. “I need to move,” she said. “I think I’ll take a walk down the shore.” She hesitated and looked at him.
He looked back at her, opened his mouth and then paused.
“Want to come?” she asked.
“Can I come?” he asked at the same time.
They both laughed, and there was another one of those sparky moments. But Paul ignored it, and soon they were walking down the road in front of the bay. This time, they didn’t go toward town, but toward the docks, where Paul hadn’t yet spent much time.
Short wooden piers jutted out into the water, some with boats adjacent, and most with small shacks linking them to the land. Crab traps were stacked beside some of the shacks, and that smell of fish and saltwater was everywhere, sharp but not unpleasant.
It was another unusually warm day for December, or at least, it was unusual to Paul. Apparently, it happened fairly often on the Eastern Shore, where the waters of the bay and the nearby ocean moderated temperatures.
Paul was happy. His heart pounded a little faster than usual, and he looked at Amber a little too often, but it was under control. He was just enjoying a walk on a beautiful day with a beautiful woman.
“Hey, Bisky, Sunny,” Amber called.
Two women who had to be mother and daughter turned and waved from where they were doing something over a tin water tub. Then both of them walked toward Paul and Amber, the mother removing rubber gloves and tossing them into a basket by their shed.
Amber hugged the tall one, who pretty much dwarfed her, and then she hugged the teenager, too. Then she stepped back and gestured to Paul. “Bisky, Sunny, I’d like for you to meet Paul Thompson.”
Sunny waved a greeting, but Bisky, the mother, grasped his hand in her own large, calloused one. “Heard about you,” she said. “You’re the one who’s staying at Healing Heroes, with the little boy.”
“That’s right,” he said, wondering how she had heard of him. Surely his story wasn’t that interesting.
Amber must have noticed his confusion. “Small town,” she said, “and gossip spreads especially fast at the docks.”
Bisky put an arm around Amber. “We like this girl. Be nice to her.”
Paul raised an eyebrow. Bisky seemed to be assuming that he and Amber were a couple, and he felt no inclination to correct her mistake. “I was planning on that.”
Amber, though, went pink. “And I’ll be nice to him and to you and to everybody. Come on, Paul, let’s leave these ladies to their work.”
Obviously, Amber hadn’t liked it that Bisky made the assumption they were together. Too bad. He almost wanted to ask her about it. Not that they were together, nor ever could be, but he didn’t mind if people thought they were.
As they wandered on down the road, Amber seemed intent on changing the subject. “Did Davey have fun at last night’s event?”
“What’s not to like when your grandparents treat every day like Christmas?” He had tried to rein Georgiana in, but it was hard with Davey jumping up and down beside them, obviously enthralled with all the toys in the shops.
“Yeah, how’s that going?” She glanced at him and then looked out over the bay. “Did you have that gun-control-for-four-year-olds discussion with them?”
Her relaxed attitude made him comfortable talking about it. “Yes. It was Ferguson’s idea to get the gun, and he’s realized the error of his ways.”
“Seems like a pretty significant error. How could he be that out of touch?”
Paul grimaced. “Wendy’s parents don’t exactly mingle with the common herd. He’s into skeet shooting, target practice, things like that, and he always wanted a son to share that with. He didn’t have one, so Davey is it for him.”
“I guess.” Amber frowned. “Plus, he’s from a different generation. Everyone used to be more comfortable with guns before mass shootings.” And then she clapped her hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry. You probably don’t even like hearing those mentioned.”
Her words had made his stomach jump, but he didn’t plunge into the memories. Progress. “It’s okay. Anyway, Ferguson apologized and they begged to come and spend some time with Davey. The shopping event seemed to be the right thing, and it went well.”
“Good.”
They’d passed the end of the docks and were coming to a tip of the land with the bay on three sides, a tiny peninsula. At the end was a bench, and Amber gestured toward it. “Would you mind sitting down for a few minutes?” She wrinkled her nose. “I get tired easily. The jogging helps, but I’m still only good for short distances.”
“Of course I don’t mind.” Automatically, Paul took her arm as they walked toward the bench. “I’m sorry, I should have been more thoughtful.”
“No, don’t apologize! I love it that you don’t always think about my medical history. Most people do.”
They sat down, close together, the bright sunshine making diamonds on the water. The breeze here was brisk, and Amber shivered a little, so he put his jacket around her shoulders.
He left his arm there rather than pulling it back.
She looked over at him and raised an eyebrow.
This time, he didn’t look away. “You’re a great person, you know that?”
She laughed and waved a hand and scooted a little away from him. “No, don’t say it!”
“Don’t say what?” She definitely kept him guessing,
