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And so at this random marina, I find myself free for the first time in recent memory.
In fact, maybe this is better that the fishing trip. I don’t need to return to the ship until 8 tonight. That means I have an entire day where I can do and be anything I want.
And this is a beautiful marina. There are so many fishing boats, birds sweeping low into the water to get their morning catch, and even seals flipping themselves around playfully. Sighting a pair of seals, I lean over to get a better look.
As I stand, I see a sleek fishing boat pulling into a slip. The driver has a thick beard and piercing eyes. His dog starts barking, and he calls for him to quiet down, reaching across the boat and grabbing a rope to secure it in the slip. As he moves, his shirt rides up and I see a sliver of skin that makes me lose focus. You can tell he’s chiseled, broad-shouldered and all man.
Nothing like the Peter Gunheight-accountants of the world or the rail-thin musicians in Seattle I’m usually around.
Suddenly his dog jumps overboard and starts barreling toward me on the wooden dock. So caught off guard, I lose my footing in these stupid yellow rain boots I wore. I try to gain back my balance—but it’s too late.
Into the ice cold ocean, I go.
The dog barks loudly, and I flap my arms, trying to keep my head up, but the shock of the fall takes my breath away. My chest seizes. The water is so cold I’m terrified to blink—this entire life could be gone in an instant and I’m scared to close my eyes and miss my last moments on earth. It’s as if a boa constrictor is tightening around my chest and every muscle hurts.
Then, as if by miracle, a man twice the size of Peter jumps in and grabs hold of my waist, pulling me up.
He literally saves me from drowning. He flings me onto the dock as if I don’t weigh a thing. I sit down in a puddle, shaking and shivering; then I look up at him.
This burly man has a thick beard, muscles outlined fiercely through his soaked clothing, but his eyes look just like mine.
Full of longing.
They are crystal-clear, with a gaze that shoots straight to my heart.
Without asking much, he picks me up, insisting I dry off, and carries me below deck on his boat. I try to absorb the shock of what’s happening, but I have to focuse on breathing and can’t exactly think this through.
I’m alone with this man, a man who could potentially hurt me, kill me. Who knows what with me.
I try to think straight, but I can’t. It’s like my head went below the surface of the water and all the intensity of my upcoming audition and the demands of my family just... slipped away.
He kneels before me and slips off my boots because I’m too cold and shaking to do it myself.
He holds my ankle so tenderly that when he gently rolls off my sock, I know he would never hurt me.
No. This man would never put me in harm’s way.
And I’m not saying he wouldn’t hurt a fly. With eyes like that and a body like his, I’m sure he’s hurt a lot of people and broken even more hearts,
But I know without him saying it, that he would never do that to me.
The cruise ship and the rocky morning with my family feel a million miles away.
Right now, I am here. With him. A stranger.
He is what I need.
I said I needed a chance to clear my head... to decide what I really want.
And within minutes he is clearing everything up for me.
Everything is as clear as the Alaskan sky.
“Let me help you out of this, okay? I can’t have you catching a cold,” he says gently.
I trust him, knowing he is right about these drenched clothes. And don’t hesitate when he finds the hem of my sweater and lifts it over my head. He sucks in a deep breath of air at the sight of me half undressed on his bed.
I forget to breathe too but then am forced to inhale sharply for fear of passing out.
“I need to get you out of the rest of these clothes or you’ll freeze to death.” His voice is low and gravelly. He doesn’t mince his words ... and he doesn’t need to.
Right now, for the first time in my life, I want to be stripped of my clothes too.
I nod ever so slowly because I don’t trust myself to speak.
What would I say to him anyways? Everything I might say would feel foolish and inconsequential. He is such a man and I am still such a little girl.
He reaches for my hand and helps me stand, and then pulls down my pants, tossing them next to my sweater.
