5
979 Words
Chapter 5
Borrowed Time
The following week slipped by with surprising ease.
Mornings became coffee on the beach.
Afternoons became long walks through town or surfing lessons that usually ended with Leah falling into the water while Marco laughed until he couldn't breathe.
Evenings...
Evenings became their favorite.
It started with a simple habit.
Every sunset, they met on the old pier.
No matter how busy the day had been.
No matter what they were doing.
At six-thirty, one of them would always show up first.
The other never failed to come.
---
"You were almost late."
Marco glanced dramatically at the watch on his wrist.
"I was exactly twenty-three seconds early."
"You counted?"
"I always count."
Leah laughed.
"I've noticed."
He handed her an iced lemonade.
"Peace offering."
"For what?"
"I was late by your standards."
She accepted it with a smile.
"I'll allow it."
"How generous."
They began walking along the boardwalk, where shop owners were closing for the evening.
A little girl ran straight into Marco's legs.
"Marco!"
He laughed and crouched to her height.
"Hey, Lily."
She held up a drawing proudly.
"I made this!"
He studied it carefully.
It was a stick figure standing on a surfboard beneath an enormous smiling sun.
"That's definitely me."
"It is!"
"And who's this?"
He pointed at the smaller stick figure holding his hand.
The little girl looked between him and Leah before grinning mischievously.
"Your girlfriend."
Leah nearly choked on her lemonade.
Marco blinked.
"Lily..."
"What?"
The girl's mother hurried over, looking mortified.
"I'm so sorry! She says whatever comes into her head."
"It's okay," Marco said, smiling.
Lily frowned.
"But you like her."
The boardwalk suddenly felt very quiet.
Marco looked at Leah.
She looked away first.
The girl's mother apologized again smiling before leading her away.
Leah stared into her cup.
"So..."
Marco rubbed the back of his neck.
"Kids have wild imaginations."
"They do."
Another silence.
Then, almost simultaneously—
"I'm sorry."
They looked at each other.
And burst into laughter.
They had no idea why they had said that.
---
The next morning, Leah found Mrs. Dawson in the garden struggling to move a heavy flower pot.
"Let me help."
"Oh, sweetheart, you don't have to."
"I want to."
Together, they rearranged the small garden until colorful flowers lined the front porch.
Mrs. Dawson stepped back and admired their work.
"It looks lovely."
Leah smiled.
"So do you always adopt lost strangers?"
The older woman chuckled.
"Only the polite ones."
Leah's smile softened.
"My mother loved gardening."
Mrs. Dawson looked at her.
“Loved?”
“Yea she's late”
"You miss her."
"Every day."
"What was she like?"
Leah looked toward the roses.
"Kind."
"Patient."
"She always smelled like lavender."
Her voice caught.
"She was the only person who ever made our house feel like a home."
Mrs. Dawson gently squeezed her hand.
"I'm sure she'd be proud of you."
Leah blinked away the sudden sting in her eyes.
"I hope so."
---
That afternoon, Marco invited her to help clean surfboards after class.
"You have to work?"
"I do."
"I thought you spent all day making terrible jokes."
"I multitask."
They laughed as they carried boards into the small surf shack.
The building was simple.
Old wooden walls.
Salt-stained windows.
A faded couch tucked into one corner.
Leah wandered around while Marco organized equipment.
On one wall hung dozens of photographs.
Children holding their first surfboards.
Families.
Beach competitions.
Community events.
In almost every picture...
Marco was smiling.
Then she noticed one photograph turned face down.
Curious, she reached for it.
Marco looked up sharply.
"Don't."
His voice was quiet.
But firm.
Leah froze.
"I'm sorry."
He crossed the room and gently took the frame from her hands.
For a long moment, he simply stared at it.
Then he placed it inside a drawer and closed it.
"I didn't mean to pry."
"I know."
"You've never sounded like that before."
He forced a small smile.
"Everyone has things they're not ready to talk about."
She nodded.
"I guess they do."
She understood better than anyone.
After all...
She still hadn't told him the truth about herself.
---
That evening, they sat on the beach watching a bonfire burn in the distance.
The sky was scattered with stars.
Leah wrapped her arms around her knees.
"I've been thinking."
Marco groaned dramatically.
"That's dangerous."
She nudged him with her shoulder.
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
She smiled.
"I've been here almost three weeks."
"Has it really been that long?"
"It doesn't feel like it."
"No."
"It doesn't."
She looked out at the ocean.
"I don't remember what my life felt like before this."
Marco didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he picked up a smooth seashell and handed it to her.
"My grandfather used to say something."
"What?"
"'The sea never asks where you've been, or where you're going.'"
Leah turned the shell over in her hands.
"'It only asks whether you're brave enough to come back tomorrow.'"
She smiled.
"I like that."
"I do too."
She slipped the shell into her pocket.
"I'm keeping it."
"I was hoping you would."
They looked at each other and smiled.
---
Across town, inside his temporary office at a luxury hotel, Richard Bennett reviewed another report.
His investigator stood silently across the desk.
"We've identified everyone close to Miss Bennett."
"And the surfer?"
The investigator hesitated.
"We still can't find records before six years ago."
Richard's eyes narrowed.
"Nothing?"
"It's as if..."
He frowned at the file.
"...he didn't exist."
Richard closed the folder.
"Nobody simply appears out of nowhere."
"No, sir."
Richard stood and walked toward the window overlooking the city”
"Keep watching."
The investigator nodded.
"And Miss Bennett?"
Richard watched the waves crashing against the shore.
"For now..."
A cold smile crossed his face.
"Let her enjoy moment...let her keep believing this is forever."
- Writer
