Chapter 8Driving down the B-line from Orlando airport all the way into Cocoa Beach was only about a forty-five minute trip. When we drove over the last bridge that straddled the Banana River, I could see the ocean in the distance and began to cry. Every time I came here this happened, my love for the Atlantic moved me so, my desire to be near her overwhelming. True, she was near to me in New York and Jersey also, but it was different down here with the clean beaches and the palm trees and the Tiki bars. If ever there was a presence of God in my heart, it was when I sat on the golden sand, free from my responsibilities for just one week, ruler in a private paradise that belonged only to me and my girl.
I looked over at her, hair blowing in the breeze with Wayfarers on. So beautiful, my ang
