Whisper of the Sea

Chapter 2

The monotony of the light-blue and white painted clapperboard buildings helped to soothe Brian as he climbed the gentle incline of the road. The slight strain felt good; he didn't get out as much as he used to, so he relished any opportunity he got.

Over the years, he found he enjoyed the gentle slopes to the harsh and rocky climb walking through the Appalachian's hiking trails. He never understood the need to gallivanting up a mountain, much as he didn't get people's desire to swim in rivers, lakes, and oceans where fish could eat you.

Nope. He was plenty happy on safe, dry, and flat-ish land where he could see anything coming. He figured that was why he enjoyed seeing so many small towns and cities; they gave him an excuse to indulge in his oddities.

He knew that's what they were. He never claimed otherwise. He just wanted the freedom to do what made him feel comfortable. Considering he had never indulged in alcohol or drugs, he thought it was a small favor to ask of the universe.

A strong gust of wind struck Brian head on, causing him to turn his face away and partially close his eyes. It was something he had come to expect from coastal areas, but this was one of the few times the wind hadn't come from the ocean. Still, it brought the welcomed smell of frying sausages, onions, and peppers.

He couldn't remember the last time he had an honest true-to-God sausage sandwich, but the taste... Oh, the taste was something he never intended to forget, and neither did his stomach. He hung all of his hopes that the smell came from the bed and breakfast.

"Please, let it be Mary's." Had he been religious, he would've dropped to his knees when the smell came from a window to his right with a sign hanging above the porch reading, "Bailey's Hidden Cove B&B".

Like Mr. Jenkins' Bait Shop, the clapperboards were painted a light blue with white trim around the windows and the white door. He was about to make a joke about the cliché of the whole town when the door opened and a portly woman in her forties and her with hair pulled back to show off her tan lines around the base of her neck just above the collar of her gray sweat shirt.

"Morning," she greeted him as she let the door close behind her, smiling as she walked past him.

A warmth and light emanated from her that pushed away his dark thoughts so that he didn't think to say anything until she was a few steps away and he was forced to pivot to see her. "Excuse me."

She turned to face him, her smile remaining warm and inviting.

"Um..." The words disappeared from his mind as soon as he tried to speak, and all he could think of was to look back toward the house. "Uh..." Seeing the sign, something within him snapped back into place. "Yes, I'm sorry. Good morning. I'm in town for a couple of days, and was wondering if you knew where I could find—"

"Mary Bailey?"

He paused to moisten his lips as he struggled to remember the name. "Yes, Old... I mean, yes, that's right. Mr. Jenkins sent me. How did you know?"

Her chuckle sounded smooth and melodious as it shook her large frame. "Let me guess: He's the one that told you the 'old' part, ain't he?"

He stared at her with his mouth hanging open. "Yeah. How did you know?"

She waved a hand at him and chuckled harder. "Hun, he calls everybody old. It's a habit as old as he is."

"Oh." A switch clicked on in his head. "Oh! That son of a... I mean." He gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. It's been a long day already."