Tom Lowe - The 24th Letter

O’Brien smiled. “You’re right on time. No problem finding us.”

Lauren set the basket down on a wooden bench seat. She petted Max and said, “You gave good directions.”

“You brought food which means you won Max’s heart for life.”

“She’s adorable. Hi Max.” Lauren stood and looked across the river. She watched two roseate spoonbills stalking the water, their pink feathers reflecting off the river’s surface “It’s beautiful here. No wonder you left Miami. So this river is the St. Johns River. It’s breathtaking…peaceful. I can see why you love it.”

“It grows on you, gets in your pores, seeps in your blood and changes you.”

“One day you can tell me how it got its name. Not now. No more work, it’s time for a picnic on this beautiful river, and as I recall, you promised me a boat ride.”

“My boat, Jupiter’s over at Ponce Marina. A boat ride might result in a few days finding the right fishing spots. Lots of remote places up and down the Atlantic coast.”

“I have a whole week off.” Lauren smiled.

“Okay, tonight after I show you a sunset on the river, we’ll head to the marina, stock up on groceries, some choice wines, and get lost at sea, at least for a while.”

“Sounds like a marvelous plan.”

“One thing though.”

“Oh, what’s that?

O’Brien looked at Max and she raised her brown eyes up at him. “I’ll be bringing another lady along.”

“Pardon me.”

“She weighs about ten pounds.”

Lauren smiled, the golden light from the setting sun caught in her brown eyes, a breeze across the river’s surface touching her hair. “Would that other lady be Max?”

“It would. She’s my first mate. Max is not a Labrador retriever, but she looks great balancing on the bowsprit with the wind lifting her ears like the wings of a little angel.”