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I stand up, offer her my hand, and guide her to sit down.
“Only the best for my wife. Go ahead, open them.”
With a stunned face, she pops each vacuum-sealed carton open. We’re engulfed by the smells of grilled fish, savory and sweet pies, salads, and more.
“Everything smells amazing. But I can barely see it.”
“That’s why I brought these.”
I hold up a set of candlesticks and steady them in the sand surrounding us. The sun is yet to dip beyond the horizon, but our secluded space has only a little light.
As I light each candle, the warmth illuminates the delicacies spread before us.
I catch her stealing glances at me during silences. She catches me doing the same. When we catch each other’s eyes, we smile.
She looks up at me. Even though the sun has set completely, I can see her sweet smile.
“This is very sweet, Cedrick. Thank you. It reminds me of my mom. She’d cook up a storm on her days off, and she'd do little things for us like this.”
My thoughts fly back to my own mother. I remember one more surprise. but I hold off on showing her.
“I rarely saw mine cook, although she did make pies. On holidays, especially. In the country, she loved to take us into the orchard. But the best part was when we were picking the fruit, she turned it into a game. For a really long time, I thought fruit could actually fly away if we weren't fast enough.”
“Somehow I can't imagine you being that gullible,” she says with a laugh.
“Oh, you must have a selective memory of your childhood then. I believed a lot of embarrassing things. I recall you telling me of some of them.” I stretch forward and pull an old photo album from the backpack. “Here. This might jog your memory.”
Her fingers stretch out to receive it, and she uses the candle light to leaf through it. At first, she doesn’t say anything, but her mouth is wide open and she looks stunned.
I move closer to her until my chin is right above her shoulder. There’s a picture of us galloping toward the camera on identical stick horses.
“Remember when you tried to convince me that they would turn into real horses if I wished hard enough?”
Her whole body shakes from how hard she’s laughing. “I completely forgot about that.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “This is amazing.”
She fingers a photo of the two of us gap-toothed and smiling next to a giant pumpkin.
“Do you remember most of it? I remembered we were close, but I had no idea how many photos were taken of us.”
“Of course. Those are some of my happiest memories. There was the tree house, and that time you wouldn't let me in till I brought in snacks from the kitchen.” She laughs and elbows my side. “Such a bully.”
“I gave as good as I got, though. Remember when you convinced me to take the lances from the suits of armor so we could sword fight? The household staff was going mad trying to figure out where they went.”
“God, we were something.” She leafs through the rest, and she stops at a picture of a much younger me seated on my mother's lap.
“She was so regally beautiful,” Ellie whispers. “A picture perfect queen.”
“I miss her,” I confess.
Ellie has a gentle energy about her that puts my guard down a little lower than usual. It reminds me of my mother, actually.
She turns to me. “I know the feeling. Sometimes I feel so lost without my mom.”
I nod, fully understanding. “You know, she was the only other person who called me Ricky. I never told anyone to call me that. But you just always gravitated to it.”
I reach out my hand, and she holds it.
“Cedrick is just so formal for a five-year-old,” she says, looking at me so closely I can barely focus. “Like Eleanora.”
