The Fisherman's Niece

Chapter 1

There were dozens of mismatched shelves that had been built into the walls around the room. These were completely covered by a vast array of jars, each one containing polished agates of all shapes and sizes. Looking back down the hallway, she noticed there were more by the front door, and she'd also noted them in the bedroom. She marveled at the hours of beach combing that it must have taken to collect so many. They were so beautiful, it was hard to tear her gaze from them as she moved from one part of the room to the next. It didn't take her long to decide that she wanted it all to stay, that it made her feel stronger somehow, more confident.

The kitchen was cozy and it's corners and upper shelves held more of the lovingly polished stones. There were plenty of cabinets and counter space to meet her needs, in spite of it being so small. It wasn't big enough to hold all of the wine she planned to collect, which earned a brief brow furrow, but it was big enough for everything else. She loved cooking simple meals from scratch and was particularly adept at rolling her own sushi. Sushi, she sighed wistfully. There was not a single restaurant within a hundred mile radius of this place where she could get her fix, so she would be getting plenty of practice making her own. It was fortunate she'd found herself close to a fishing village, or she'd probably go insane within the week. There were many things she could go without, but raw fish was definitely not one of them.

The moment of truth had arrived. She turned the handle on the sink and waited to see what would happen. She had called the utility companies out here before leaving the city, and couldn't repress a short victory dance when water sputtered from the faucet, and after a few seconds started to run clear. She repeated this experiment with the sink and tub in the bathroom, letting them clear out before shutting the water off and heading back outside to grab provisions from her car. She hadn't picked up much at the small gas station convenience store in Wheeler before heading out into the great unknown, but there would be enough to last her till morning at least. She'd find a grocery store tomorrow when she had more daylight to explore in, but right now a little rest was well deserved. After spending nearly a week in Portland bickering with the lawyers over every little detail, the seculsion of this place was exactly what she needed.

After unpacking her few rations and storing them appropriately, she popped the cork on a bottle of wine she'd brought to celebrate her new life. A delicious cabernet so thick and red that it fit her mood perfectly. She'd never been allowed to indulge in reds while living with Alan, he couldn't bear the thought of even a tiny spot on the counter. In keeping with the spirit of rebellious bliss, she swirled her glass sharply, so that a few drops slipped out and christened the hardwood floor at her feet. The wood of the floor was old and needed to be sealed, so it drank the offering greedily and left only a muted imprint where the drops had landed. There they would remain, this was her home now, her floor, and most definitely her wine.

Setting down the glass to let the cabernet breathe a bit, she wandered back into the living room. It amazed her that everything here felt so warm and inviting, despite being so foreign. The apartment she had shared with her former beau back in New York could not have been more different. His colors were stark and the art contemporary, no room for disorder in Alan's perfect world. He'd employed a maid when she had moved in, but he still cleaned every day when he thought she wasn't looking. They'd been over his OCD tendancies before and, he'd promised he would relax after having time to adjust to her way of living, but things had only gone from bad to worse. He would absolutely hate this place. He hated sand and couldn't stand clutter. She thought it was perfect, absolutely perfect.

Out of curiosity, she pulled a cellphone from her purse where it had been stashed on the kitchen counter. The light was blinking and she knew that there would be several messages wanting to know that she was safe, promising that things would be different when she came back, blah, blah, blah. She tossed the phone on the couch, stuck her tongue out at it for good measure and went back to the kitchen. There was a sandwich she'd bought for dinner at a gas station waiting in the fridge, and that was way more appealing right now than listening to the sound of Alan's voice. She'd had enough of him and his perfectly matched everything to last a lifetime. After two years of dating, it had taken no more than two months of living together to know that he was not her prince charming, but it had taken ten more months, and an act of God to gain her freedom. The only reason she'd stayed as long as she had was because of Mom. When she had died, Alan was the one who had been there for her. He'd been so sweet and helped her every step of the way. Never having known a father, she'd fallen for his strength and instinct to guide her when she was feeling totally lost and without purpose, as she so often had in the city. As she bit into the impossibly soft thing that claimed to be whole wheat with turkey and cheese, she began to feel uneasy and went back to the bedroom to unpack. She'd hoped that keeping busy would keep unwelcome things at bay, but thoughts of her flooded to the surface anyway.