She stood on the quay side in silent anticipation, her hands buried in the warm pockets of her Duffle coat, protected from the chilly wind, the very wind that reddened her cheeks and ruffled her hair.
Dried out Lobster pots, stacked 3 high, acted as a barrier,protecting the unwary from the inevitable.
On an exposed patch of sand, a young boy tormented his yapping, leaping terrier with a piece of drift wood. A little further, stood an angler.
The Lass looked firstly to her left, and then to her right, the Scottish coast line stretched from horizon to horizon, becoming a smudgy grey blur, before blending with the sky and the sea, and then vanishing.
The Harbour was quiet, apart from the Gulls kicking off and squabbling over scraps of food every now and again. She lifted her expectant gaze to the sea, and scanned the choppy surface until it collided with the sky. She spoke inwardly to herself, almost a prayer. “Please be good, don’t play up, not today, please.” She understood the language of the sea, and its temperamental moods. A Herring Gull landed on top of the Lobster Pots, and greedily gulped down its scrap of fish.
There! Lurching through the white caps, she saw the small boat, its bow exploding in showers of white foam each time it met the swell, as it chugged towards her.
She ran the short distance to the end of the Quay, and excitedly started to wave both arms above her head.
In the boat, behind the small covered wheelhouse, stood a man, his stare fixed on the approaching shore line, his calmness be lying the inner turmoil of his emotions.
The steady, chug of the engine, competed against the sound of the Sea, and the growing number of raucous gulls, squawking their laughing cries as they followed in the boats wake.
The thud of a wave, caused the man to squint in anticipation of the coming spray.
The Sun, so far absent, turned the spray into a cloak of rainbows as it broke free of its cloudy restraint, and filled the scene with its welcome glory.
The once featureless shore line, now surrendered its detail, the man saw the welcoming harbour, and on the wall, a Woman, now jumping on the spot and waving her raised arms criss cross, above her head. The man, no longer able to restrain his emotions, released his hold of the boats hand rail and returned the gesture.
The couple semaphored their joyful, happy feelings to each other across the closing distance that lay between them.
The boat entered the calm safe water of the harbour, passing in front of the waiting Girl, its progress creating a mere ripple, as it headed for the granite steps of the quay side.
With their gazes locked, the Girl briskly walked, occasionally breaking into a short hurried jog, as she followed the boats progress.
She reached the steps just as the small blue boat pulled along side, and watched, as a coil of wet rope was thrown ashore into the waiting hands of the unofficial welcoming party. Heavily accented instructions and greetings were exchanged between the Skipper and his old friend on the quay side. As she descended the the steps, he disembarked, and still a little stiff from his journey, he eagerly strode, two steps at a time toward her.
They finally met, and instantly fell into an embrace, an embrace built over time with love and feeling.
Without breaking the embrace, she pulled back her head, and looked into his eyes, she saw her image reflected in a tear, a tear of happiness and elation.
She wiped away the tear holding back her own and asked “JD?”
Now looking at his own reflection, he winked reassuringly, “JD” he replied.
With their arms draped over each others shoulders, they headed HOME. JD.