A Season for Second Chances(83)

The swimmers were right to have come early; the sky was baby blue with powder puff clouds, but glowering around the cliff edges the clouds were like wire-wool, casting dark shadows over the sea. Annie drank in the cold air and reveled in the chill after the heat of the café. She wandered along the beach, scooping to pick up pebbles to her specifications; smooth, oval, or roundish, about the size to comfortably fit her palm.

A voice shouted: “Don’t you know it’s illegal to steal pebbles from the beach?”

Annie jumped, dropping the pebble she’d been studying. It was John, just rounding the cove. Annie’s heart leaped in her chest at the sight of him.

“You’re back!” She tried and failed to wipe the delighted smile off her face.

“I am indeed.” John grinned back at her as he tramped up the beach.

“Where did you spring from?” she called back.

“Just popped in to see Alfred.” John nodded back toward the cave. He was wearing green wellingtons over his jeans and a cream Aran-knit jumper. As he got closer, Annie could see the beginnings of a beard.

“What are you doing?” John asked when he reached her.

“What are you doing?” she countered.

“I told you, I’ve been to see Alfred.”

“I didn’t know Alfred took house calls.”

“Have you ever tried?”

“Once,” said Annie. “He chased me out.”

John laughed heartily at that. “Sounds about right,” he said. “Now you. What’s all this?” He pointed to her basket.

“Positivity pebbles,” said Annie.

“What?”

“Positivity pebbles. I’ll leave these in the basket on the bench by the window, with some nontoxic paint pens, and people can write nice messages on them and bury them on the beach for someone to find.”

“Messages like what?”

“Like . . .” Annie looked to the sky for inspiration. “Like, have a great day, or you are special, or sent with love, or . . .” She thought back to that day in Tonbridge Wells and the pebble she had found just before she saw the ad in the paper, “or everything is going to be all right . . . the kind of thing that will put a smile on someone’s face when they find it.”

“Why?”

“Why not? Think of it as random words of kindness.”

John frowned at her in a curious way, as though she were a mathematical equation to be solved.

“I like it,” he said. “What a great idea.”

“Not mine, I’m afraid. But I found one not so long ago when I really needed a friend, and it was just what I needed at that moment.”

“You had a pebble for a friend?”

“Beggars can’t be choosers.”

She looked up at John, and he suddenly swooped down and kissed her lightly. It was the briefest brush against her lips, but it still made her breath catch. He took a step back, embarrassed.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “It was just . . . you looked so wistful. I suppose, I just wanted to let you know that you have a friend, if you ever need one. And I think you’re lovely. Despite often behaving to the contrary. And I think that maybe someone made you feel like you weren’t lovely and he shouldn’t have. But anyway. There we are. And I know it’s way too complicated for anything to happen between us, but still, you’re lovely.”

Annie could hardly breathe. “I . . .”

“Annie! Customers!” Gemma was out on the patio, with her hands making a trumpet over her mouth.

“I’ve got to get back,” said Annie.

“Here,” John said, taking the basket off her arm. “You go. I’ll hunt out positivity pebbles.”

“Thanks,” Annie called back as she ran, slipping on the stones toward the café. And then quite without realizing what she was doing, she found herself running back toward John. Running on shifting pebbles isn’t easy; it’s like running through porridge and there is no way to be graceful about it. She reached him, breathless and in danger of turning an ankle, and went up on tiptoe to kiss him on the lips.

“I think you’re lovely too,” she gasped. She hoped she didn’t faint from the exercise. “Even though you might sell my home and business from underneath me. But there we are. I think you’re lovely all the same.”

And with that, she turned and ran, much resembling someone trying to run in a spacesuit on the moon, all the way back to the café.

Half an hour later, John strode in with a basket full of pebbles.

“John!” Gemma trilled. “Lovely to see you. Annie told me you’re staying with Raye and Aiden for a while; it’ll be nice to have you around the place a bit more, won’t it, Annie?” She nudged Annie conspiratorially as she passed her.

“Oh, great haul,” she said, looking at the basket. “Pop them over in the corner there, would you?”

John did as he was told. Annie looked at John, and he smiled at her and winked. Her heart stuttered. She felt as though they had found a secret key to something that only they knew about.

“Would you like a coffee?” Annie called.

“Americano, please,” said John. “Double shot, hot milk on the side.”

“How’s Celeste?” Gemma asked.