England April 1999

Skye Dunbar stood by the window, and looked out across the meadow as she waited for the transatlantic phone call to connect.  It had been a miserable weekend—dull, wet and cold—cold as the heart that beat inside her breast.  She glanced at her watch, and calculated the time difference; early morning in San Francisco—Debbie should be up by now.

After a few rings, a sleepy American voice answered.
“Hello?”

“Debbie?  It’s Skye.  Did I wake you?”

“Not really, I was lying here thinking about getting up.  Talk to me, you sound anxious.”
Skye took a deep breath.  “I’ve decided to take a month’s sabbatical.  I’ve contacted the airline and have an option on a flight leaving in just over a week’s time.  They’re holding it for the next twenty-four hours.”

“Why, that’s great.  You need to get away and you know San Francisco loves you.”
“Actually, Debbie, that’s why I’m calling, I’m not coming to San Francisco.  I’m going to Seattle and—”

“Skye, you can’t possibly want to spend a month there, not after all that happened last year.”

“I can’t explain why, but I need to go back.”  Skye twisted a strand of her hair between her fingers as she waited for Debbie to respond.

“I don’t understand, and if you want my advice, you’ll come here and stay with me.  After all that lying bastard put you through, I’m amazed that you can even contemplate being within a thousand miles of Washington State.  Please, come here and stay with me.  We can visit all our old haunts—Fisherman’s Wharf, Chinatown.  We can go for a drink in the John Barleycorn and listen to that folk singer you liked so much.  And if that doesn’t appeal, then we can hire a car and drive along the coast.  You haven’t seen the Marin Headlands or Monterey yet.  And if you wait until I get to the office on Monday and I’ll see if I can beg for some vacation time.  Or we could meet somewhere else, if you prefer.  How about Vermont?”

“That’s a lovely thought, Debbie, and I do want to see Vermont, but in the Fall.  Please, save your holiday time.  This is just something I have to do on my own.  I go to bed at night and in my dreams I see this figure on a beach.  I know it’s me.  It sounds crazy, I know, and I really don’t expect you to understand.  Just give me your blessing and tell me that if I need you, you’ll be there for me, okay?”

“I guess you know what’s in your heart, although I really do worry about you, Skye.  You have to put what happened behind you and move on.  So tell me, just where are you staying?”

“I’ve rented a cabin in the San Juans.”

“You’ve done what?  No one goes to the San Juan Islands in the middle of April.  It’s too cold for one thing and Friday Harbor will be deserted.  What will you do there for a whole month on your own?”

“I thought I would catch up on some reading, go walking and generally enjoy the scenery.”

“Hmm, I don’t know.  If you ask me, the last thing you need is to be by yourself.  However, now that you’ve made your mind up I don’t suppose there’s much I can say to dissuade you.  But promise me, if you become too upset or lonely up there, you’ll get on the first available plane to me, here in San Francisco.  Deal?”

“Deal.  And Debbie,” Skye hesitated before continuing, “thanks for understanding.  You’re the best friend anyone could ask for.  As soon as my plans are finalised, I’ll let you know.”

Skye replaced the receiver and turned once more to look out of the window.  Was she being stupid wanting to go back to the Pacific Northwest?  What would it achieve?  Would it even put her mind at rest?  They were questions she couldn’t answer, yet in her heart she knew she was doing the right thing.

She’d met Michael while on a visit to Debbie the year before.  He knocked her to the ground while roller skating in Golden Gate Park.  He’d helped her up, apologised, and insisted on buying her a coffee.  Coffee had somehow turned into lunch, and before they knew it, they’d spent the whole day together.  Skye was due to fly home the following day and Michael had insisted she give him her address.  She’d agreed, but hadn’t really expected to hear from him again.  Six weeks later, returning home after a particularly fractious day at work, she’d found his letter waiting on her doormat.

That initial letter, like those that followed, had been read and re-read time and time again, the words feeling as if they were almost engraved on her heart.  Finally, six months later, Michael had written asking her to visit.

Skye quickly pushed the thought of him out of her mind.  She had so much to accomplish in the coming days that daydreaming wasn’t a luxury she could afford.  Her flight confirmed, and the cabin booked, she needed to concentrate on clearing her diary.  Then all she had to do was pack her suitcase and talk herself into getting on that plane.

The following week passed in a blur.  Each day she arrived at the office early and brought all her files up to date for John, her business partner, to takeover in her absence.

They’d had met at university shortly after Skye’s mother’s death, and had been good friends ever since.  At thirty-nine, he was five years Skye’s senior.  Six feet tall, and of muscular build, with brown eyes, unruly curly hair, he had a smile that could melt the iciest of hearts.  John had been a Graduate Teaching Assistant when Skye had started her degree course.

When Skye graduated, they set up business together.  Years of long hours and neglected holidays had finally paid off and their services were in demand by major corporations all over the world.  But despite the success they experienced, their relationship had never passed beyond friendship.

None of Skye’s closest friends knew what she did for a living, apart from the fact that she was a high-level executive, and whatever it was, she didn’t like to talk about it.  In another few months, she and John would be making a presentation to Government officials in the hope of securing an exclusive contract—top secret, and the most demanding of their respective careers.

The day before Skye was due to leave she scheduled a meeting with him.

“Skye, what are you going to do with an entire month’s leave?  You’ll be bored by the end of the second week, and you know how busy things can get here.  There is still a lot of testing to do.”

“I realise that, but you did say you could handle it.  The code is complete, so you really don’t need me.”

“This has to do with what happened between you and that navy guy last year, hasn’t it?  I wish you’d tell me what brought you scuttling back to the office two weeks earlier than planned.  I told you not to trust a guy in uniform and in particular a sailor, but you didn’t listen.  What you need is a real man, not one of these military types who still play with the action man they got as a child.”

“And just who did you have in mind—yourself?”

John ignored her comment.  “You’ve been like a scared rabbit ever since you got home.  You never go out; you’re slowly becoming a recluse.  You spend every waking hour here at the office.  Just what did the bastard do to you?”

“I don’t wish to discuss my love life, or lack of one with you.  And what if I do spend all my time here—that’s my choice.  At least the work gets done and we are ahead of schedule on one or two projects.”

“Look, love, I know something happened and whatever it was, it must have been something major to have affected you this way.  But you have to pick up your social life.  You can’t continue to bury yourself in your work or it will make you ill.  You’ll meet someone else and I promise you if he really loves you he won’t hurt you.  Besides if you’re frightened of being left on the shelf you could always marry me.”

“I appreciate your concern, John.  But you and I both know that while our business relationship works, a more personal one wouldn’t.  You’re not the type to settle down, so just leave it there before one of us says something we’ll regret.  Now about the Jones account—”

“Before we get back to business hear me out.  Professionally you’re one of the most logical people I know.  You’ve an eidetic memory and know instinctively when a project is about to go pear-shaped.  You’re a shrewd and ruthless businesswoman when necessary.  You’ve even got a temper to go with the colour of your hair, but then nobody’s perfect.  But having said all that, you’re just a big softie at heart.”  John reached across the table, took Skye’s hand, and gave it a reassuring squeeze.  “What I can’t understand is why you couldn’t see that this guy was trouble.”  Skye’s expression told him he’d over-stepped the mark.  “If you must go on this idiotic trip, will you at least let me take you to the airport on Sunday?”

Skye smiled.  Only her voice betrayed mild annoyance.  “Thank you for that character analysis.  Remind me to return the favour one day.  I am quite capable of organising a taxi.  But if you feel you must take me, then I’ll accept your offer.  Check-in is at noon.”
“In that case, I’ll pick you up at nine-thirty.”

Sunday dawned warm and sunny, and although early April the daffodils were already in bloom.  As she showered and dressed, Skye couldn’t help wondering if this was the new beginning she was seeking or whether she was just being plain stupid.

She’d chosen her clothes with care—a pair of well cut navy blue trousers and midnight blue shirt, colours that not only gave her confidence but which also matched her sparkling eyes. Her medium length auburn hair had been cut the day before, and it now framed her pale, delicate, feminine face.  Her suitcase stood ready in the hallway as she sat at the kitchen table drinking a final cup of coffee waiting for John to arrive.

A short time later, John’s BMW pulled into the drive.  Skye took one last look around the house, picked up her purse and opened the door.

“Ready, Sweet Pea?” John asked.  “Have you got your tickets, passport and packed everything you need?”

“I think so.”

“It’s not too late to change your mind you know.  Even Debbie thinks you’re slightly crazy for wanting to do this,” John said, making one last attempt to get her to stay.

Skye stopped in her tracks.  “You’ve been talking to Debbie, behind my back?”

“Actually, she called me.  Now, Sweet Pea, don’t be annoyed with her, she’s just concerned about you.  Besides, Seattle wasn’t exactly the happiest of places for you, now was it?”

“I wish you two would accept that this is something I need to do, instead of hounding me to change my mind.  You’re both good friends and I know you have my interest at heart, but please allow me to do this and don’t tell me I told you so, if I come home in tears.”

John put his arms round her diminutive frame and gave her a hug.  “I just don’t want to see you hurt again, that’s all.”

“I know.  Now, are we going to stand here all day or are you going to put that suitcase in the car?”

They hardly spoke during the journey to the airport, John sensing that Skye needed to be alone with her thoughts.  He repeatedly glanced across at her.  She seemed so small, so vulnerable and yet beneath that very feminine exterior he knew there was a strength and stamina that defied her appearance.  But she had taken such an emotional beating over the last year that he couldn’t help the feeling of wanting to protect her from more hurt.

Forty minutes later he pulled the BMW to a halt in front of Terminal four at Heathrow Airport.  He collected Skye’s luggage from the boot, then walked round to the passenger side of the car and opened the door.

Once inside the terminal building, he waited patiently while Skye completed the checking-in formalities for her flight, then accompanied her as far as the security check-point.

He gave her a hug, and kissed the top of her head.  “Have a good flight, Sweet Pea.  Get some rest and lay that ghost.  Then come home and be prepared to do some work.”

Skye wiped away a stray tear at his use of her nickname, and tried hard to smile.  “I’ll do my best.”  Without a backward glance, she turned and walked quickly through security into the departure lounge.

She found a seat close to the gate, and took out her book.  But she couldn’t concentrate on the words.  Instead, she amused herself by watching the people in the terminal, wondering where they were all going to and the reasons for their journey.

Time passed quickly, and soon her flight was called.  She settled into her seat in business class, and fervently hoped that the one beside her would remain unoccupied.  The last thing she wanted was to spend twelve hours next to someone who wished to talk all the way to Seattle.  Luckily, her wish was granted, for within fifteen minutes of boarding, the flight attendant closed the doors and the aircraft pushed back from the ramp.

As the plane taxied towards the runway, Skye suffered one last moment of self-doubt, but knew it was too late to turn back.  Seconds later, she felt the increased tempo of the Boeing 747’s engines as it thundered down the runway.  After what seemed like an eternity the huge plane lifted gracefully into the air.

During the flight Skye read a little, then slept.  Her mind reeled from all her thoughts and dreams.  She was startled awake when the landing gear hit the runway, and shook her head to regain her focus and get her bearings.  She looked out of the window—the terminal buildings looked as grey and uninspiring as they had a year ago.

Once inside the terminal, the Immigration formalities were completed with a minimum of fuss, and the delay at Customs was only mildly annoying.  The usual questions and then ‘have a nice day.’

Skye then made her way to the rental car desk where she collected the keys to the car she had organised.  Within minutes, she was manoeuvring the vehicle out of the parking lot and down the ramp on to Interstate 5.  Fortunately, she did not have far to travel to her hotel and soon found herself being shown to her room on the third floor.

After breakfast the following morning, she took out her road map and traced her route north.  The hotel receptionist told her that it would take about two hours, depending on traffic, to drive the seventy or so miles to Anacortes.

As she wasn’t due to check into the hotel in Anacortes until early evening, she decided to do a little sight-seeing.  She found a place to park on Alaskan Way, locked the car, and then climbed the Harbor steps to admire the fountain, before continuing along First Avenue to Pike Place Market.

At the Westlake Centre she caught the monorail to the Space Needle.  The panoramas from the observation deck were stunning—well worth the white-knuckle ride in the express elevator.  For once the weather was kind to her, unlike her previous visit, when the sky had clouded over.  Today there was hardly a cloud visible, although it was a little on the cool side. Far below she could see a State ferry sailing to one of the islands in Puget Sound.  A few small sailing boats were out in Elliot Bay, no doubt, like her, taking advantage of the fine weather.

Skye leant against the safety rail and looked out across the bay, and remembered the postcard she’d received from Michael.  Lost in her thoughts, it was only when she glanced at her watch that she realised she’d been standing daydreaming for nearly an hour.  Annoyed for having allowed Michael into her thoughts yet again, she rode the elevator back down to ground level.  She quickened her pace as she walked down Broad Street and on to Alaskan Way, past the Aquarium and Omnidome until she reached Ivar’s restaurant.  There she found a table overlooking the bay, and ordered a bowl of clam chowder and a pot of coffee.  After her meal she returned to her car, and headed north towards Anacortes.

According to her guidebook the bustling port of Anacortes was founded in 1877.  Shipyards, seafood processing facilities, and tourism all contributed to the local economy.  Spectacular panoramas, combined with exclusive real estate, yacht charters and marina facilities brought residents and visitors alike to the area.

The ferry to Friday Harbor left at eight the following morning, and the travel agent had recommended that Skye stay at the inn close to the terminal.  Tired from her drive, she ate a solitary dinner in the hotel restaurant then retired for the night.

A short time later, she slipped between the cool white sheets of the double bed and settled against the comforters.  Sighing deeply, she wiped a surreptitious tear from her eye.