By ten in the morning, the dreary March sky cleared, and sunlight broke through. The sea turned a welcoming blue, waves lapping gently at the pebbled shore. Even the air felt fresher, crisper.
Sitting indoors on such a fine morning seemed wrong, so Edward set aside the newspaper he’d been reading after breakfast. With a quiet groan, he rose from his armchair and dressed. The guesthouse hallway was emptyusually, small groups of holidaymakers lingered here, but even they had ventured outside, abandoning the cosy sofas.
Edward strolled along the promenade. The pebbles crunched under his sturdy shoes. Overhead, seagulls cried joyfully. The salty breeze filled his lungs, invigorating him.
Once the seaside guesthouses faded behind him, he climbed a gentle slope and walked through last years withered grass, where timid new shoots peeked through. From a distance, he noticed the lone bench by the shore was occupied. Edward often wondered why more benches hadnt been placed hereit was the perfect spot to sit and watch the sea. He came often when the fickle spring weather allowed.
He nearly turned back but changed his mind. The bench wasnt boughtthere was room for him too. And company made the sea-view even better. As he approached, he realised a woman sat there. At his footsteps, she turned slightly, her gaze indifferent as it brushed past him.
She was near his age, perhaps a little younger. Dressed in joggers, a deep maroon hoodie, and trainers, her grey hair was cropped short. Her features were fine. *She mustve been beautiful in her youth. Still is,* Edward thought, surprising himself.
“Lovely morning, isnt it?” he said instead of a greeting.
She didnt reply, only arched a brow.
“Mind if I join you?” He didnt wait for an answer, circling behind her to sit at the far end. “Havent seen you here before. Just arrived?”
“Two days ago,” she answered abruptly, her voice low and rough.
“Ive been here a week. You can watch the sea foreverit soothes you.”
“And do you need soothing?” She glanced at him briefly before turning back to the water.
“What? Oh, no. Just a turn of phrase. Though these days, theres plenty to fret over.” Edward already regretted speaking. Words spoiled the view.
“And what troubles you?” She seemed willing to talk now.
“Just like that? Pour my heart out to a stranger?” he grumbled.
“Why not? Thats why you sat here, isnt it? Easier to confess to someone youll never see again.”
“Youre right.” He paused. “Thirty-odd years ago, I came here after my divorce. Miserable. Climbing the walls with loneliness. Drove my friends mad with complaintsthey shipped me off to the seaside to be rid of me.” Edward chuckled. “Back then, I was young. The sky bluer, the sea more inviting, the sun brighter. Early autumn. A few brave souls still swam. I did once. No bench here thenId sit further off, on those rocks. One day, I spotted a new face on the promenade. Remember how *The Lady with the Dog* starts? Well, I noticed her straight awaya young woman walking alone by the shore, smiling faintly. I felt a kinship and introduced myself. Her name doesnt matter now.”
They walked, talked. She was married. Her husband, much older, was terminally ill. Hed summoned his sister to his side and sent her to the seaside for a weeks resther first break from caregiving in years, hence the constant half-smile.
The next day, they met again. And she came. They spent days and nights together, inseparable. She wasnt recklessjust the opposite Edward searched for words but found none and fell silent.
“I married for love. But over time, we stopped hearing each other. Even in bed, my wife thought of our sons new trainers, not us. I never blamed her. It takes two. But this it was a gift to my weary, starved heart. She loved me desperately, like someone condemned. But times cruel. My leaving day came. She waved me off at the airport, smiling through tears. And I it never crossed my mind to stay longer.”
“You never saw her again?” Her voice was husky.
She listened intently, eyes on the sea. Edward even thought she seemed tense.
“No. I asked for her address. No mobiles back then. Wouldnt have called anywayrisked exposing her. At first, I ached to go. Kept putting it off. Then it felt foolish. Why? Her husband was dyingme turning up would only torment her. Make her lie, scramble She had enough burdens. Nothing good would come of it. So I chose not to. Then the address vanished” Edward trailed off. She stayed silent.
“Chickened out, I suppose. Failed love ruins your confidence. You pick at yourself, grow hesitant”
“Beautiful story. You never remarried?”
“No. Had relationships, mind. None stuck. Kept remembering that seaside love.”
“Maybe because it was brief. No promises, no disappointments.” She stood.
“Leaving already?” Edward asked, uneasy.
“Time to go. You shouldve gone to her. She waited for you.” She turned and walked briskly toward the guesthouses.
Edward stared after her, baffled. *What did she mean? A guess? Or* But he didnt follow.
After lunch, restless, he returned to the shore, hoping to see her. She never came. No sign of her at dinner either. The next day, he watched from the bench, picturing her youngerlong dark hair, a radiant smile. A jolt struck him. *Its her. Anna. You old fool.* He rushed to nearby guesthouses, asking. One receptionist said a woman matching her description had left that morning. Her name? Anna.
“Where did she go? Please, her addressyou must have it,” he pleaded.
“What if she doesnt *want* to be found?” the receptionist reasoned.
Defeated, Edward spilled his story. Moved, she relented and wrote it down.
Now he stood in a strange city, heart pounding as he climbed the fourth floor of a red-brick block. He hesitated at her door. *What do I say? After all these years? What if shes married? Shell turn me awayrightly so. But youre herering the bell, man.* Sweat beaded on his brow, his heart stuttered. *Dont collapse on her doorstep.* He took a deep breath and pressed the buzzer.
The door opened. Anna smiledas if shed expected him.
“Hello. I knew youd come,” she said simply, stepping aside.
“Sorry it took so long,” he gasped, realising too late he shouldve brought flowers.
“Never too late, just bad timing. Here” She handed him slippers. “Not my husbands. New.”
They sat in her cosy kitchen, sipping tea as she told her story. Her husband had died eight months after her return. Before passing, hed said he loved her, held no grudgeshed sensed the change in her. Shed waited years for Edward, then let go. On the bench, hearing their tale retold, shed nearly confessed. Relieved he remembered. Hurt he hadnt recognised her. Only as she left did she give him a clue.
“I was a coward. Robbed us of years. But weve a second chance. Lets try, Anna. Were not old yet. I can look after myselflived alone long enough. I wont be a burden.”
“Were set in our ways. Hard to start over. No time left for mistakes. But Im tired of being alone. Not for the glass of waterits the emptiness. We deserve happiness after all this. Lets try,” she agreed.
Their future? Theirs to decide.
In youth, love is drunk greedily, in great gulps. With age, it mellowssavoured sip by sip.
*Two lives, shared at last. No grand promises. Yet I rejoice for them, finding love on the brink of parting.*
Its never too late.
