Chapter 9 - The House by the Sea
The new house sat on a grassy bluff overlooking the Atlantic Ocean in Kennebunkport, Maine.
It was built of light cedar shingles, with wide wraparound porches, massive floor-to-ceiling glass windows that let in the bright coastal light, and a open lawn that sloped gently down toward a private white-sand beach.
There were no locks on the pantry doors. There were no hidden keys. The whole house was filled with the warm, salty breeze of the ocean and the continuous, soothing sound of waves crashing against the shore.
It was late May, and the summer sun was warm and golden.
On the porch, a large teak table was set for lunch. Fresh lemonade, grilled seafood, and warm bread filled the air with incredible scents.
Maya stood by the railing, wearing a simple linen sundress, her long hair blowing gently in the wind. She was holding a sketchbook, drawing the outline of the lighthouse visible across the bay.
I stepped up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist, resting my chin on her shoulder.
"What are you painting?" I whispered, kissing her neck.
"Us," she said softly, pointing to the bottom corner of the page where she had drawn three small figures sitting on the rocks by the water. "The new chapter."
Down on the sand below the porch, seven-year-old Chloe was sprinting through the shallow surf, followed closely by two golden retriever puppies we had adopted three months ago. The puppies barked happily, chasing her feet as she splashed through the clear water.
Clutched tightly in Chloe’s hand was Mister Buttons, his little dress fluttering in the ocean wind, completely clean, completely safe.
"Look, Daddy!" Chloe shouted up toward the porch, holding the doll high above her head. "Mister Buttons says the ocean is cold!"
"Tell Mister Buttons to come get some lunch!" I shouted back, my voice carrying clearly over the sound of the waves.
Chloe giggled, turning and running up the grassy slope toward the porch, the puppies tumbling behind her like fluffy golden balls.
Maya turned in my arms, looking up into my eyes. She reached up, her thumb gently tracing the line of my jaw.
"Thank you, Aaron," she said softly, her amber eyes shining with an absolute, beautiful devotion.
"For what?"
May you like
"For listening," she whispered. "For coming home. For fighting for us."
"I will always fight for you, Maya," I swore, pressing my lips to hers in a long, sweet, unhurried kiss that tasted of salt, sunshine, and freedom. "Always."
