“Look there,” said the bride, barefoot in the sandy beach. Her husband followed the line of her finger.
“Look at what?” he asked.
“The sparkle between those two rocks.”
He stepped into the surf. “It’s an abalone shell.”
Eric stood above them on the cliff’s edge—the couple reminded him of the woman he met in the very spot they now occupied. He’d been in a crouch looking for abalone shells when he saw her bare feet, delicate and white.
“Watch yourself,” he had said, “the rocks are sharp.” He spoke before actually seeing her face; if he had, he might have said something else. She wore a black eye patch over one eye.
“Thank you, I need to be careful these days.”
He stood up and held out his hand. “Would you like this shell?”
She smiled and stepped towards him. At that moment a rogue wave rose over the boulders near where they stood. Eric, his back to the ocean, heard the crash and immediately grabbed the woman. The ocean spray hit him waist high, but its power had been cut by the rocks and he was able to keep his balance while holding the woman.
“I didn’t know you liked to dance,” she said, clutching him. Eric laughed, his fear ebbing along with the ocean waters.
There was a yell below. The newlyweds scurried from a wave that lapped at their feet.
“It’s your turn to be in love,” Eric whispered as he backed away from the edge of the cliff.