OK, everyone sit down and get comfy. You asked again about
the beginning of our life here. This is the true story, including how I
experienced the most frightening moment of my life. You’ll hear the
extraordinary situations that changed everything as though it’s happening for
the first time again.
***
I quit my job;
stuff my belongings into and on top of the trunk of my little old soft-top MGA.
Inside it’s crammed so full of my meager belongings I can barely shift gears.
My destination is Lover’s Cove, a small town on the north coast I drove through
last summer. This is where I belong. Right then and there I commit to the move
by renting an inexpensive furnished apartment over a smelly fish market in an
old building. I don’t care about the dilapidated state of the place because it
looks out over my lifetimes desire of living on the waterfront.
At Twenty-Six I’m
finally in charge of my life. Yes, I, Margaret Murphy, actually live on the edge
of being wet and wild, so to speak. The water is steps away from my front door.
I enjoy seeing the lazy dance of boats on the waves. I watch the Harbor seals
sunning themselves on the red channel buoy, and listen to the sounds of the
gulls talking their busy language, flying about looking for fresh fish for
their next meal. I’m living my dream.
After working at The Marina Shop for just over
a month, I know this is my home. The location’s perfect: An easy walk to and from my little shabby
chic flat with time to enjoy the scenery. Tonight I hear the sounds of the
gulls as a backdrop to the sea as it churns while I walk along the edge of the
bulkhead above the rocks. It’s a pleasant peaceful way home. The waves pound
against the rocks breaking onto the seawall. It’s a graceful dance. I breath the
scents of the sea, the freshly caught fish, and the seaweed that blends while
the rhythmic call of the sea gulls and black birds seem to harmonize together
while competing for a handout of food. I watch the sunset as it changes colors
of bright yellow-white to pinks and even blue hues that cross the horizon as if
teasing the clouds. I see bright lights from the descending sun streak up like
fingers reaching for God. How I love it.
It’s Friday. I
look forward to the weekend. I’m filled with peace and happiness and don’t care
about the raindrops landing on my face. So what if my mascara runs and makes me
look like a raccoon. Nobody’s out tonight
and it’s too dark to see me anyway.
The weather quickly
changes from gentle water dropping sporadically to the ground to a pelting rain
along with sudden increased winds. I glance up and see the angry black clouds
converging above me and bow my head to keep the rain and wind out of my eyes. I
listen to the bark of the seals and go closer to the bulkhead to see them when
suddenly, losing my footing, I flail wildly into mid-air, stumble and crash
right into the turbulent surge of breakers, landing like a sack of rocks in a
huge splash. I attempt to scream on the way down but must shut my gaping mouth
before landing in the frigid dark ocean. I struggle against the wild waves trying
to grab hold of anything. All I see is the concrete seawall with swells
violently splashing against it. The tide is in and I can’t feel the bottom.
It’s too deep.
I’m filled with
fear and know I’m going to die. Right now and right here. My mind goes into a
spin.
“I’m drowning,
Help? Somebody! I’m sinking.” I think I’m yelling, but can’t make any noise or I’ll swallow the freezing
cold water. My clothes are heavy and
dragging me down, down, further down.
There’s a faint light
filtering through the murky, turbulence, and I’m jolted in the ferocious
swells. My mind is on overdrive. Suddenly I see four angelic faces smiling at
me and I relax, feeling contentment wash over me.
***
I’m pulled out of
the water. Everything is blurry. A
shadowy figure hovers over me and I hear a masculine voice, “Are you OK?”
I sputter, gag and
cough up water. “I hope so.” I struggle to speak and after many blinks, my eyes
finally clear enough to find myself looking into the face of a handsome man. I must be dead. His eyes twinkle even in the
dim light. I’m lying flat on the deck at the entrance to the docks. Lightening brightens our sky and the thunder
roars to life. I can feel the electricity in the air. We are wet and scary
targets for getting shocked by a lightning bolt. This strong man gently lifts me up and I find
myself standing against him, held securely and safe from falling. He has to be at
least 6’ tall. I’m 5’4”. He slowly releases his hold on me, and is dripping
wet from helping me. “You saved me.” My
teeth chatter as I’m soaked, freezing through and through.
‘Yes. Luckily I
heard you scream and splash into the water. I happened to be on my deck at the
right time.”
“Wow.” I slowly
digest my incredibly good luck. What were the odds? “Call me Margaret.” He
holds me close for a moment. I suddenly feel shy as I look up directly into his
somber face. The rain and my hair drip
water into my eyes, making me blink madly.
“I’m Matt Hudson.
Are you alright?” He keeps hold of my shoulders as if to steady me.
I am shaky. “I
think so. I guess I’m not dead, am I?”
His laughter fills
the air, “Absolutely not. You just survived a frigid swim. I’m docked second
down on the left. You need to dry off and get warm or you’ll end up
hypothermic. My place is dry and comfortable. I have hot coffee, even wine if
you like.”
My head fills with
indecision. Should I trust him and go to
his boat? He’s good looking, even bewitching, and after all he saved my life. I
do feel a bit wobbly, too. “Thank you, if it’s not a bother, I first need to
find my purse. I think I flung it in this direction as I took the plunge.” I point opposite where I splashed down. Matt
joins me in the search.
We spot it at the
same time, just a foot away from us, under a streetlight. He reaches down and gets it for me while holding
my arm to guide me. He may see I’m not steady on my feet yet. “Come, we’ll warm
up.”
“Thank you, but
I’m afraid I’ll make a wet mess inside your boat.”
He lets loose a
robust laugh and captures my heart then and there. “You just about sank
permanently into the depths of the sea and you are worried about my boat? That
floating ‘beauty barge’ is surrounded top to bottom with water at the moment,
thanks to this downpour. Believe me, it’s faced worse wet perils in the past
and survived. This pier is closest to the edge of the jetty and gets the worst
surge of choppy white caps during bad weather. You’re lucky you didn’t drown.
It’s rough out tonight.”
He guides me to
his slip. I gaze at the 65-foot motor yacht I recognize from looking at all the
boats on the dock every day. She is the “Sweet Sanctuary” and my favorite. I think my mouth is wide open with shock. He helps me board her. I soon stand in a
beautiful lounge knowing as saturated as I am, the last thing I want to do is
sit on anything clean, dry and pretty, since I’m dripping like a wet rag.
Pointing to the
head he says, “I’ll get sweats for you to change into and I’ll bring extra
towels so you can wash. The salt water will make you itch if you don’t shower
it away.” With that, he walks toward the bow of the boat and returns with sweats,
three soft bath towels, all neatly folded, along with a plastic bag for my
things. He was thoughtful enough to bring me a pair of oversized shower shoes
and adds they are not safe to wear walking around in a boat, so be careful and
be sure to have at least one hand on something solid. I don’t want you to fall
after what you’ve been through.
“Thank you.” I
gladly accept the needed supplies and put my soggy shoes inside the big bag
along with the rest of my soggy wet clothes.
The mirror
reflects a wild woman, no make-up and hair with sand and bits of seaweed poking
out. I shrug acceptance of my temporary wild unkempt look. Thank heavens for showers
and the good luck to have found my purse. All my ID and makeup, even my comb
could have been lost if it had landed in the water with me. I take a hot
shower, dry off, and have another go around with my hair. I wrap my towel dried stresses up in a towel,
put on his oversized grey sweats, roll the long legs up and cinch the waist in
to fit me. I peek at the reflection in the mirror, judge my make-shift attempt
at make-up, then go to the lounge. Matt is already there.
I quip, “You’ve cleaned
up, and fast. You must have two heads. Of course, two heads are better
than one. And listen to your radio. It’s playing “Stormy Weather.”
“Yes, I have two.
The music seems quite appropriate right now.” His eyes twinkle as he smiles and
looks at me. “Would you like a glass of Cabernet?” He asks as he offers me a
tray of crackers and cheese along with slices of deli meat on a silver tray. I
see chocolates on the table in a lovely china dish.
“Do you treat all
drowning ladies this well?
“I haven’t had the
opportunity until you came along like a nearly drowned mermaid. You are my
first and only.” Matt looks at me with a smile.
“The wine sounds
good and I’m hungry. These snacks are perfect.”
I sit alongside Matt, reach for a cracker and layer it with cheese and
meat, leaving the chocolate for later.
We talk for hours,
telling stories of our childhood antics, share stories about where we presently
work, and where we went to college, what we enjoy on our off hours. He tells me,
“I ended up two months ago inheriting the ‘Sweet Sanctuary’ from my uncle. I fell in love with the beauty of the area as
well as the yacht. It was an easy decision to stay and make this my permanent
home.
We face each other,
stop talking and as if by magnetic force, move closer. It seems like slow
motion and we kiss for the first time.
I realized years
later that the four little angels I saw when I was in the water were you.
“Yeah, we know,
Mom, we’re all angels.” Michael, my grown 18 year old says as the three girls,
Angelia, Celeste, and Celine, behind him agree, and snicker.
“You came in
succession and have grown up far too fast for a mother’s point of view”. They
scrunch up their face showing they disagree with me.
Nonetheless, this
is how I met your dad twenty-four years ago. We were married right there on the
pier in front of “Sweet Sanctuary”. We
saved money by living aboard her for four years before buying the Marina Store.
It took a while to remodel the upstairs but finished making it our family home
overlooking the Marina just before I had you, Michael. And eventually we
welcomed the rest of you three beautiful little angels.
You always love
listening to this story on our wedding anniversary and never seem bored hearing
how we first met, over and over again. It seems like I’m telling our beginning for
the first time. I can never resist kissing your dad when I finish, even after
all these years. It’s our shared tale of love and romance.
Matt winks at the kids and grabs me in a grandiose manner by the waist, brings me close in a flourish, and we kiss like it’s our first time. We giggle and join in a group hug, blessed by the happenstance of fate.
End