We Walk in Footprints

Clack! CLACK! CLACK! A brass knocker at her front door sent sharp echoes through the quiet house. Startled, she stood ramrod still. Expecting no one, a woman alone is cautious. Three more solid clacks; whoever it was, persistent. Annoyed, she walked quickly into the front hall, inquiring, “Who‘s there?”

“Ahhh, Lita,” hesitantly, the caller responded. “It’s Clay Hawkins.”

Her heart took a leap. That smooch on the cheek at this very door the last time she saw him so often replayed in her thoughts, and dreams. Not quite believing what she heard, she questioned. “Clay?”

“Yeah. I tried to call. … No answer.”

Her hand trembling, Lita slipped the bolt, cracked open the door. Seeing a familiar face, she opened wide. “C… come in. Will you?”

“Thanks.” A boyish grin, he stepped across the threshold. “You’re surprised to see me.”

“I’m … speechless.” Handsome as she remembered, she felt a tug deep in her belly.

He laughed, low and mellow, mature. “Boyce suggested I look you up.”

“Pa?“ she mumbled, remembering her manners. “Come on in, Clay.” Cautiously, she closed the door, as he stepped inside. “Ahhhh. How are you?” Leading the way into the living room where a pair of comfortable couches sat facing, she perched on one; “Have a seat.”

He slid into the other. “Thanks. I’m doing as well as can be expected.” Wryly, he chuckled. “With a cross-country move and all.”

“I … I know what you mean,” she responded, awkwardly, stirrings made her uneasy. Why was he here? Abruptly, the question came out. “What … what brings you to San Diego?” He studied her a moment. “The fact is,” Clay began, “I’ll be teaching at the college here and I’m looking for a place to live.”

“Oh!” Her thoughts confused, she could say no more. He’d left Welborne to get his Masters. Had he left his wife, she wondered.

He continued. “I remembered you had a guest house and, well, I wonder … would it be for rent?”

Tentatively, she repeated. “Rent? I hadn’t thought about renting.”

“I’m afraid I can’t pay much.”

“It’s really very small and there’s no kitchen.”

“I’ll be eating my meals on campus. There’s a cafeteria run by the culinary school.”

Her thoughts racing, Lita took a moment to compose herself. “I don’t know what to say.” A nervous laugh came out, she came to her feet. “You want to see the place?”

“Yeah, I do.” He pulled up from the couch, followed her back through the hall into the kitchen. Though he hadn’t been inside, he knew the quest house sat off the back yard. “I haven’t been in there for some time,” she said, from the doorway, as he stepped onto the patio. “I’m sure the place needs cleaning.” Ghosts, memories bittersweet, she’d avoided the guest house where she and Dan had been together. “The door is open. Go on in.”

Uncomfortable, she trembled, fled back into the kitchen. Though some time had passed, she couldn’t avoid the fact that Clay had lost his son. As soon as he came through the door, she tackled the issue. “Pa sent me a clipping from the paper about the accident. I’m so very sorry.”

His mouth twitched. “I know about Dan. You have my deepest sympathy.” His eyes held hers. Two lost souls recovering need no words.

Relieved, Clay stated, “I’m glad we cleared the air.” “It’s difficult.” Since Dan went missing, she’d had recurring dreams: They were swimming in the ocean a familiar beach along the coast road. Dan drifted far away. She couldn’t let him go. Until …

“Yeah. … So.” Shifting footing, he continued. “It’s been tough finding a place. Your guest house would suit my needs, if the rent is reasonable.”

“Rent?” She rolled the thought through her mind. Planning a trip back East, a caretaker seemed appealing. “Suppose you be my guest there for a time, say … two weeks, a month. If you want to stay on, we’ll talk about rent.”

“Ah, ha. “ He put out his hand. “You made me an offer I can’t refuse.”

A handshake sealed the deal. “Welcome aboard.”