Sweeter Than Wine

Sweeter Than Wine

By

Rita Hestand

Smashwords edition

Copyright 2009 by Rita Hestand

Smashwords Edition

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DEDICATION

People who fall in love quickly sometime
wonder if it can really be true. Soul mates are hard to find and
not everyone believes in them. But true love can be found anywhere.
For all those couples that fell in love instantly, here's to you!
Isn't it romantic? God Bless

Rita Hestand

“God,” he cried aloud, “Help me…”

Vacation? If this was a vacation, he needed
help. He'd ridden for miles up and down the coast, searching…for
what? He didn't know. He'd stopped here, only a mere hundred miles
from his home in the mountains.

All he knew was that he was hurting and he
didn't know how to stop. This long numb void inside him screamed
for a release.

Glancing about him subconsciously, Sam McKay
leaned against his bike and let out the most mournful sound a soul
could unleash, something in between a loud sob and a deep seeded
moan. It seemed to echo against the backdrop of a small forest. It
was better than crying. He did it again. It was as though the pain
inside him flowed away from him, leaving him. He could feel it
leaving. Was this what he needed all along, a place to let it all
out? To release the hurt that had bound him.

Realizing he was finding some sort of
release, he sat on the ground, and looked up into the sky. There
was no answer to his prayers. However, something was definitely
happening here. The hurt continued, but he did realize that just
making that gosh awful sound helped him heal somehow. He did it
again.

This time he thought he heard something in
the bushes, probably just his imagination. There was nothing but
mountains and oceans surrounding him. No one was out here this
early of the morning. Here wasn't anywhere in particular, it was
somewhere on the Pacific coast, but it had no real definition. He
was miles from town, miles from civilization. No one was about.

The crashing sound of the waves distracted
him, he closed his eyes and began to let the sound surround him. It
was like a mournful operetta. Good thing there wasn't anyone
around; if anyone heard him someone might think him crazy. Still,
if this worked, why not. He had to do something.

However, he couldn't let go of this release,
not yet.

The sound echoed in the air, like the wind,
carrying it.

Then he heard the intrusive noise again. He
wanted to ignore it, but it bit into his concentration. Unable to
ignore it, he decided he'd freeze. If it was an animal, he knew by
his lack of regard, that the animal would become uninterested. If
it was human, well, maybe he might scare them away too.

He closed his eyes once more, and let out the
mournful music of his soul. The sound compared to a loon or a moose
before mating. Lonely, hollow, and full of pain, he breathed in the
air. It felt clean and the ocean added a salt taste to it. At least
his senses were working, as though the sea itself washed his soul,
hopefully it would wash the hurt away too.

He did feel better, almost instantly.

Suddenly he heard a loud thump and he could
no longer ignore what was obviously coming from the bushes behind
him.

He stood in one lithe movement, like a cat,
stalking his prey he moved toward the bushes and began to move them
apart, so he could investigate.

He certainly hadn't expected a half-naked
woman though.

He stepped back, his face a contorted mask.
He let the bushes fly and covered his discovery up for a moment.
Perhaps he was hallucinating. It was possible, in the state of
mind. He moved the bushes apart and he saw her…again.

"Excuse me," a voice squeaked. It reminded
him of a cartoon. And old Tom and Jerry cartoon. The whole scene in
front of him did. Who was she? What was she doing out here in the
middle of nowhere, wearing nothing but a towel?

"What the …" Sam frowned and closed the
bushes, trying to assure himself he really saw the lady.

"Em….I'm sorry, but I heard a noise, a very
distinct and strange noise, I thought someone was in trouble. Did
you hear it?"

"Excuse me, but do you always run around on
the beach with nothing but a towel?" Sam exclaimed as he turned
toward the sea, and let the bushes fly again. He'd give her some
privacy, but he wanted her gone.

"Well, no…but that noise…I thought someone
was in trouble. I came to help." She said parting the bushes again
and standing up.

"I…think you left something behind, in your
hurry to investigate," he pointed towards the woman's clothes down
the cliff lying on the sand.

"Oh…oh, then you heard the noise too," she
sounded nervous, a little distraught and very embarrassed.

Calling his misery a noise irritated, though.
It was a release, and she just happened to be a witness he hadn't
wanted.

"Yes," he drawled, waiting to see if she was
going to make a mad dash for her clothes. However, the bushes
didn't move.

"What was it?" the voice sounded from the
bushes.

"It was me…thank you very much, now will you
please get dressed. You might be comfortable walking around in the
buff, but I'm certainly not." He boomed. "Unless your intention is
seduction, I wouldn't advise running around the woods in the
raw."

The bushes moved, she muttered something
under her breath and scampered down the slope of the hill. Good his
rudeness had scared her off.

He turned away. Damn, this was the very first
time he had been able to express anything inside him in months and
it had to be interrupted by this ….this…nymph.

Where could a person go to be alone, these
days?

Still, he had to admit, it was almost funny,
a woman, in the raw, running around the beach at what, five-thirty
in the am. Maybe she had some scant bikini on under that blue towel
of hers that barely covered the essentials. Maybe she was a nudist,
maybe he should thank her for putting on the towel.

What were the odds…how many times did that
happen. He smiled to himself when he remembered how she had grabbed
herself to hide herself from him. Perhaps she wasn't as comfortable
as he first thought. Her face had turned an instant bright red.
Rather refreshing seeing someone blush over his or her own nudity.
Of course a towel covered her, well, except for the mature
cleavage, and the well-developed legs.

Perhaps his ill manners had scared her off
and he could continue now with his release. Yes, surely she
wouldn't interrupt him again.

He sat on the hard ground, crossing his legs
and inhaling the salt air, he closed his eyes. He felt his
breathing calming him. This was having some positive effects on him
and he was elated to have discovered it.

"Are you alright?" the same naked voice
asked, much closer, as though she couldn't quite believe what she
was hearing.

Letting out his breath, he stilled his nerves
once more. "I was…"

The woman again.
Now that she had
clothes on she bothered him more. Her clothes bothered him. She
wore jeans that were a little too big, a baggy shirt that hid
anything amusing and a flop hat that did nothing to disguise her
fresh skinny dip in the ocean. Any other time Sam would have been
amused no end. However, this wasn't the time.

"Oh…I'm sorry. It's just that sound. You said
it came from you. I was worried that something was wrong. Do you
need help? I've never heard anything quite like that." she walked
almost on top of him.

He studied her shoes, nothing interesting
there either. He took another breath.

Maybe if he ignored her, she'd get the idea,
and go away.

"I've got a bike down there, I can go for
help," she insisted.

He shook his head and got to his feet,
immediately noticing that the woman was short and round in all the
right places, he acknowledged with a slight smile. He hadn't really
noticed that when he saw her in the towel. No, he had noticed
entirely too much, too quickly, and it irritated him. It was the
first time he'd really noticed any woman since he left Barbara
hanging on a note that said, 'don't wait for me any longer. That's
what irritated him so. He thought he loved Barbara, but when his
father was dying in his arms, and announcing he was not his son,
women no longer seemed important to him. Finding his roots was
important.

"I suggest you get on the bike, and go home,
or to another part of the beach, or another part of the state, for
all I care."

He wasn't usually rude, especially to a
stranger, but the woman seemed determined to ruin everything, this
morning, his first morning of vacation.

The woman turned red, as though he'd
embarrassed her again. She stood more erect, her shoulders back,
her head high, her breast pouting against the material. "I'm
extremely sorry. I guess I misunderstood. Well, yes….good
morning….then."

Sam exhaled again, "Good morning."

"Umm….I…I just wanted you to know, I don't go
around naked on beaches all the time. I thought the beach was
deserted. Just like you did, I'm sure. I've never skinny dipped in
my life…I wanted to feel the experience, that's all."

He didn't want or need her explanation. He
wasn't offering one for himself, so why did she feel she had to
tell him anything.

Realizing he was being a bit beastly, he
nodded, and then headed for his bike, "Yes ma'am."

"You don't believe me?" she shrieked with
indignation and followed him.

Now he turned all his attention on her.
Looking at her, she wasn't that bad, plain and yet, distracting in
some way. An odd way. It bothered him that she distracted him so.
"Does it really matter whether I believe you or not? We are
strangers, we've never met before, and we'll never see each other
again. Why should you care whether I believe you or not? You are
free to go naked in the world, if that's what you want…" He was
leaning over her, looking straight into her beautiful blue eyes,
eyes that were round and full of life, eyes that held no pain. He
envied her.

She gulped.

Good, he intimidated her.

Raising her head a notch she sniffed back a
retort. "I wanted you to know because it's the truth. And I don't
want anyone saying it isn't. I'm on vacation and thought this was a
private beach. I'm a school teacher and this is my very first
vacation."

"Well, congrats. Have a wonderful time…" He
gestured grandly.

He mounted his bike.

She came closer, "Has anyone ever told you,
you're very rude."

"Yes ma'am, they have." He answered, then
started the bike and took off before she could utter another
word.

As he left though, he did glance back at her
in his mirror. She was standing there as though shocked that he had
left.

If he were noticing he might see that in that
get up, she was pathetically cute. Not at all like Barbara who was
model material, of course, but cute, in an odd way. Her hair was a
long mass of browns and reds and gold, her eyes clear and blue, her
skin was brown as though she sun bathed often. Nevertheless, of
course, in his despair, he wouldn't be noticing anything about a
woman who insisted on intruding into his life.

Even though the momentary echo of his voice
left him feeling a bit relieved, he continued to nurse the hurt
inside him, like a sore that wouldn't quite heal. Somehow, the hurt
was hurting less now. For the first time in two years, he really
wasn't feeling sorry for himself. It was as though that brief few
moments of sound had been some sort of escape for him, an ointment
to a festering sore.