Sea Cliff

Chapter 5

Chapter 5The next day, Rachael walked to Mountain Lake Park and stayed several hours. Thankfully, Matthew didn't show up. She was well-aware of his interest. What would it take to discourage him? Hopefully, he had other lady interests. At times, he sat with various girls in the park. He'd demonstrate a little yoga for them, seeming to like the attention of ditzy little loud-talking females hungry for attention.

Occasionally, a tall blonde would walk into the park and call his name. Matthew would hesitate, then walk over. She'd talk. He'd listen. At other times, that same blond would drive up to the end of 11th Avenue and honk. Sometimes she'd be in a Mercedes, sometimes a BMW. What it looked like was that they might have been a couple that broke up but she had more to say. It didn't look like he was too enthused, but he always went to have a conversation with her. Maybe she was his ex-wife. At other times, as Rachael discreetly watched, Matthew would walk back to his truck to leave and find a note on the windshield. She couldn't read his expression from the distance. His body language and tearing up the paper said it wasn't a parking ticket. Outwardly, Matthew seemed having himself together. That may not be the case. Rachael was settled in her life style with no thoughts of allowing intrusions.

While the thought of Matthew sometimes cause sudden sparks of excitement, she awarded the emotions to her story characters. She had written a new scene for Hunter, the character now more fully patterned after Matthew. The rest of the week passed without him gracing the park. She made great progress on her story by emulating his gregarious personality and speech. Her two previous novels were simple stories. Maybe what her characters lacked was meaningful descriptions and a little mystery to further flesh out their personalities. Her thoughts dwelled on Brandon and his crudeness. She thought of Matthew with his caring attention and sensibility. She would use whatever traits she could in her story.

Returning home from the park that Friday, she found a message on her office answering machine from ConverTech in Santa Clara in the South Bay. They warehoused and wholesaled electronics. The company offered a temporary position in response to her query for consulting work. Rachael wished to complete the refurbishing of her home that was left unfinished after her dad died. She could easily afford the cost but preferred to work temporary assignments and paying cash for any repairs or redecorating. In that way, she wouldn't have to delve into her savings or investments.

The message requested she fill in for a secretary taking a pregnancy leave of absence. “Duration would be two months and we are willing to pay your standard fee,” the woman's voice said. Rachael charged higher rates than the agencies for computer time. This firm was aware of the precision and accuracy of her work performance. “We prefer you instead of hiring an unknown we'd have to teach from scratch,” the speaker said. “If you want the position, we need you to show up this Monday.” Rachael left a message on her brother's cell phone message center saying she would be coming to Stockton on weekends for a while instead of Mondays.

That weekend, Rachael wrote feverishly. Her characters began to learn they must know themselves before they could know anyone else. They needed to know who they were, apart from their parents, siblings and peers.

Rachael was developing unique personalities in Melissa and Hunter as she maneuvered them through heart rending sequences toward resolving their deepest issues. She gave Melissa the same type of tyrant father and submissive mother she grew up with, and wove in about as much of that situation as would fit into her fiction. She endowed Melissa with the same confusion she possessed about relationships and how they didn't fit into the picture her father painted about life. Melissa was reclusive and needed to be drawn out.

Work on the book progressed rapidly despite recently rewriting many portions and nearly starting over from scratch. In a zealous fit of over-eagerness, she put together a query letter accompanied by the story outline and the first three chapters and sent them to Dennis DeBaer, her literary agent. She also mentioned two additional manuscripts which were in outline form in her computer.

“To keep me alive in their memory,” she said aloud in the solitude of her office. If they remembered her previous attempts to make a name in the book business, she wanted them to know they shouldn't count her out. So what if they were the people who have the last word? If they didn't like this book, publishers were plentiful. Yet, there was something special about this story. It was different from her first two with their simple plots. She could feel it and hoped they would recognize it too. Having accomplished a great measure of progress on her story, she felt ready to start the temp position at ConverTech.

The commute to and from Santa Clara each day was arduous. Thankfully, her car was dependable. Each day, she'd leave home at six o'clock in the morning and return home again around seven or even eight o'clock in the evening, and that would be dependent upon whether there were accidents slowing traffic along the way. Time to visit the park didn't exist. The two hour commutes each morning and evening left her dwelling on thoughts of Matthew and Hunter. Matthew consumed much of her thoughts and his book character much of her story line.

By the time she completed the two month contract, she had talked herself out of needing to see Matthew again for any last details she might glean for her story. Her muse would conjure anything else needed.

Two months of long commute hours had been productive. It gave her time to think seriously about the content of her novel. She had purchased a mini-recorder to make story notes so no brilliant bits of information would be lost. With the temporary work assignment behind her, she looked forward to catching up on transcribing those recorded ideas into story material.

Frustration had set in about not being able to write continually. Yet, though now she could, she found herself staring at the small bulletin board beside her desk. She had long ago drawn the features of the man in her story. He looked similar to a dashing young Sean Connery. Somehow that image no longer fit. More and more, she thought of how much the features of the man in the park should be thumb tacked in front of her. She needed to rethink her character. How had Matthew slipped into her thoughts to consume them and take over her plot? How had he become such an intrusion?

The next morning, the sun shone brightly. Rachael thought about taking her work to the park. If Matthew was there, he'd try to talk. Judging by the way he held on and tried to keep that first conversation going, he'd wanted more. She just knew it. If he approached her again, it would change her mood. She wouldn't get any writing done. Finally, she struck a key, opened the file, and started to work.

She stayed home the rest of the week, working straight through the weekend. With ample time available again, progress on her book happened rapidly. Her short simple novel had grown. When finished, it would become a longer, more intense story than ever imagined. This filled her with glee. The following Monday, she made the regular trip to Brandon's home. As she drove in silence, remnants of a vivid dream of ballroom dancing with the character in her story filtered in. They floated around the floor and as she looked into the man's eyes, the dancer became Matthew.