**Its Never Too Late**
By ten in the morning, the dull March sky cleared of its grey shroud, and the sun broke through. The sea turned a welcoming blue, waves lapping gently at the pebbled shore. Even the air felt crisper, lighter.
On such a fine morning, sitting indoors seemed a waste, so Edward set aside the newspaper hed been skimming after breakfast. With a grunt, he pushed himself out of his armchair and went to dress. The guesthouse lobby was emptyunusual, as small clusters of holidaymakers usually lingered there. But even they had abandoned the cosy sofas for the outdoors.
Edward walked along the promenade, his boots crunching on the pebbles. Overhead, seagulls called cheerfully. The fresh sea air filled his lungs, sharp and invigorating.
Once the coastal guesthouses faded behind him, he climbed a gentle slope, treading through last years dried grass, where timid new shoots poked through. From a distance, he noticed the lone bench by the shore was taken. It always puzzled him why more benches werent placed here. The view was perfecthe often came when the fickle spring weather allowed.
He almost turned back but changed his mind. The bench wasnt private; thered be room for him too. And company made the sea even lovelier. As he neared, he realised the figure was a woman. At his approach, she barely turned her head, offering only a detached glance.
She was around his age, perhaps a little younger. Dressed in joggers, a deep maroon jumper, and trainers, her short hair was streaked with grey. Her features were fine*She must have been striking in her youth. Still is,* Edward thought, more abruptly than he meant to.
“Lovely morning, isnt it?” he said instead of a greeting.
The woman didnt answer, merely raising a brow.
“Mind if I join you?” Not waiting for a reply, he circled behind her and sat at the benchs far end. “Havent seen you here before. Just arrived?”
“Two days ago,” she answered suddenly, her voice low and rough.
“Ive been here a week. You could watch the sea forevercalms the mind.”
“And yours needs calming?” She turned briefly, then faced the water again.
“What? Oh, no. Just an expression. Though these days, theres plenty to unsettle anyone.” Edward regretted speaking now. Words only spoiled the peace.
“Go on, thenwhat troubles you?” She seemed oddly willing to talk.
“Just like that, eh?” he muttered.
“Why not? You sat down beside me. Easier to unburden yourself to a stranger.”
“Suppose youre right.” Edward paused. “Thirty-odd years ago, I came here after my divorce. A wreck. Lonely, bitterdrove my friends mad with my moaning. They packed me off to the seaside for respite.” He chuckled. “Younger then. The sky bluer, the sea brighter. Early autumnsome brave souls still swam. I tried once. No bench back thenId sit further out, on those rocks.”
“One day, I spotted a new face on the promenade. Ever read *The Lady with the Dog*? It was like that. A young woman, walking alone, smiling faintly. I felt something. Went over. Her name waswell, no matter now.”
They walked, talked. She was marriedhusband much older, terminally ill. Hed sent for his sister and urged her to take a break by the sea. For the first time in years, she was free of worryhence the smiles.
Next day, they met again. And again. Spent days, nights together. Not recklessshe wasnt that sort. Just” He fumbled for words, gave up.
“My marriagelove, at first. Then we stopped hearing each other. Even in bed, her mind was on whether to buy our son trainers or a scooter. Not her fault. Takes two. But thisit was a gift. To a soul starved by a joyless marriage.”
“She loved me fiercely, desperately, like time was running out. Then my holiday ended. She saw me off at the station. Smiling, wavingtears on her cheeks. And me? Never crossed my mind to stay longer.”
“You never saw her again?” His companions voice was husky.
Shed listened intently, eyes on the sea. Almost *too* intently, Edward thought.
“No. Asked for her addressno mobiles back then. Wouldnt have called, though. Didnt want to complicate things. Missed her terribly. Kept delaying a visit. Then it felt selfish. Her husband dying, me turning upwhat good would that do? Just more lies for her. So I let it go. Lost the address, eventually.” He trailed off. Silence settled.
“Chickened out, I suppose. Failed love wrecks your confidence. Makes you second-guess everything.”
“Beautiful story. Never remarried?”
“No. Other women, yes. But none stuck. Kept comparing them to her.”
“Maybe because that was fleeting. No promises, no disappointments.” She stood.
“Leaving already?”
“Time to go. Shame you never visited her. She waited for you.” Turning, she 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. No luck. Scanned the restaurant at dinnernothing. Next day, he lingered on the bench, scanning passersby. Suddenly, he pictured her youngerlong, dark hairand a jolt of heat rushed through him. *Bloody foolthat was her! Anne!*
He dashed to nearby guesthouses, asking after her. One receptionist said a woman matching her description had checked out early. Name: Anna.
“Whered she go? Pleaseher address? You must have it.”
“What if she doesnt *want* to be found?” the girl reasoned.
Defeated, Edward spilled his story. Moved, she relented, scribbling the address.
Days later, he stood in a foreign city, heart hammering, on the fourth floor of a red-brick block. Hesitated at the buzzer. *What do I say? Thirty yearswhy now? What if shes married? Shell slam the door, rightly so. But come onbe a man.* Sweat beaded on his brow; his chest ached. *Dont collapse here, you idiot.* He inhaled, pressed the buzzer.
The door opened. Anne smiled*like shed been expecting him.*
“Hello. I knew youd come,” she said simply, stepping aside.
“Sorry its so late,” he gasped, realising too late he shouldve brought flowers.
“Never too late. Just bad timing. Hereslippers. Not my husbands,” she added.
They sat in her cosy kitchen, tea steaming. Now *she* talked. Her husband had died eight months after her return. His last words: *I love you. No blame.* Hed sensed the change in her. Shed waited for Edward. Given up. On the bench, hearing their story retold, shed nearly confessed. Thrilled he remembered. But he hadnt recognised hernot until her parting hint.
“I was a coward. Robbed us of years. But its not too late, is it? Fate brought us back. Annelets try. Were not old yet. I can look after myselflived alone long enough. Wont be a burden.” He broached it days later.
“Were both set in our ways. Hard to start over. No time for mistakes now. Youre rightfailure makes us cautious. But Im tired of being alone. For what? No children. Its not just about a glass of water at bedtime. Were meant to have someone. Maybe weve earned this.” She nodded. “Lets try.”
What their future held? Their choice alone.
Young love is drunk greedily, without thought. With age, it mellowssavoured slowly, each sip treasured.
*Two lives, shared. No promises, no grand hopes. Yet Im glad for themfalling in love on the brink of parting.*
Its never too late.
