Chapter Three
It was a relatively short drive and an easy route to the state park that was called Montana de Oro. Katherine had read about it so often that she felt as if she had already been there. It was said that the bravest of surfers came there to experience the wildest waves in California. In fact, she had heard that a short time prior, one of the most famous surfers from Hawaii had succumbed to the waves and lost his life.
Driving up the hill, past the tall evergreens, Katherine noted several well-tanned and extremely muscular surfers on the beach below the high cliffs readying themselves for the ordeal. Age and sensibility would not allow her to indulge in such a risky sport, although she had once risked white-river-rafting many, many years ago. No, she couldn’t even imagine herself getting on that flimsy board and subjecting her mature body to such a pounding. She could picture her daughter, Beth, challenging that surf. That one would never miss a moment of life and as a fledgling writer would write every detail of this rare place. Jesey was active in more sensible sports. She would have to take time to compose a very long letter to each her daughters relating the wonder of this area. Perhaps they might join her for a time, although the girls were so wrapped up in their own lives. Katherine did miss them so much. It wouldn’t go against her own rule of not interfering in their lives to just ask them to come here for one short vacation; a few days perhaps. Continuing up the hill, she came to the end of the road and a number of parking spaces. As soon as she set foot outside the blue vehicle, the wind grabbed at her hair and tossed it wildly about. It did make her feel so free. Oh, yes, it was a sweater day, at least by the cliffs. A path led in the direction of the ocean, guiding her over a crude wooden bridge and on to the main path toward the high cliffs. Finally, there was an excellent reason for the little bit of excess weight on her body. That wind was strong enough to push a tiny woman right to the edge. Going as close to the rim as she dared, Katherine looked down at the roaring waves as they crashed with such vehemence on the defiant rocks that some of the spray came up to dampen her. There was no explanation as to why a sight like that would thrill her so much. On one hand, it was just water and rocks, while on the other; it was the envious power in that fierce movement of the waves.
“Come along, Frank,” she commanded the memory of her deceased husband. “This is where we wanted to go. Walk with me and enjoy the view.” Foolish perhaps, but Kathy did feel as if he were walking beside her. They had planned this part of their trip mainly for him, although upon view, it was definitely something for her own memory book. He would be looking down trying to figure out the wave patterns as well as the amount of erosion that these violent waves would cause. So scientific at heart. “Oh look, Frank,” Kathy pointed to two seals playing together on a distant rock. Like lovers, they were pecking at each other with little fazing them, not even the crashing waves around them. Wouldn’t have been wonderful if she and Frank had shared that kind of loving? It was fortunate there was no one else about to query her conversation with an unseen departed one. The path split up to a main one, apparently a short cut and a narrower one going close along the cliff perimeter. Kathy chose the lonely one as she thought of it, where only one could walk. It was true; she did miss Frank often. Without love, their marriage had been only adequate, but they had some measure of companionship. There were a few things they enjoyed together like classical music and some trips to natural scenery. They had been rock hounds for several years, going out to the desert or mountains, seeking hidden treasures and working on them at home. Katherine, Beth and Jesey still had many pieces of fine jewelry that they had made with their crude equipment. Even their daughters had enjoyed those trips to search for fine gems and minerals. “We did like that, didn’t we?” she queried her absent companion. This time she would be faithful and refuse to allow those other memories invade her heart.
In moments, Kathy reached the edge of the cliffs that held at the most interesting erosion patterns. The waves had battered a large area of rock forcing an unusual bridge formation. At first, she pulled out the camera and started taking as many pictures from as many angles as she could. This would make an excellent painting, a real challenge if she could manage to get the depth needed. Just in case it would be too difficult, and not too certain of her artistic abilities, Kathy turned her camera on less difficult views. Standing on a piece of land that jutted out so far afforded her a view as if looking inland at the crashing waves on the shoreline. Beyond the sandy beach, high hills rose in the distance draped in golden poppies, the mountain of gold, Montana de Oro. Looking at the remarkable scenery forced Kathy to take a deep breath. Although she had seen many places, it was there by the ocean that gave her the greatest thrill. Oh to be here while a storm was raging with wild waves reaching all the way up the high cliffs. Perhaps she would be that fortunate while she was staying at the Inn. At least she could imagine what it would be like, ferocious high waves breaking way up on the already beaten rocks, fiercely attacking the rocky shores, dark stormy clouds against a deep, almost blackened sky. Frank wouldn’t like it, but she could imagine herself standing firm against turbulent winds, her auburn hair blowing wildly.
Lost in thought, Kathy continued her walk to another jut of land reaching out even further into the deep blue water. The path narrowed as if fewer, less brave people had continued on this far. Golden poppies, lavender thistle and Queen Anne’s lace grew wild giving the place an array of color. Kathy felt like one of those weeds, strong defiant but still attractive. She wondered vaguely who decided what were weeds and what were declared flowers or plants. Sometimes, it seemed as if some of the weeds were more attractive and often more hardy than the flowers. The sky above was a vibrant blue with the kind of clouds she used to imagine were different things when she was a child. That had been a favorite pastime, just lying back on the grass and staring up at the floating, fluffy clouds imagining shapes to the misty white formations. Alone, very much alone at the end of the lane, Kathy sat down on the grass gazing out at the vast ocean. Only a few flying seagulls screeched out their warnings to her. A deep breath of the invigorating sea air, the sketch book in hand, she began to sketch the view. If only she could recall when she began the actual painting, the colors, the exquisite colors. The film would help, but she would need to recall the emotions, to put something of the feeling into the canvas. On the side of the drawing, she put down some key words that would help her remember.
For some time, she was engrossed in the sketching, not even feeling the coolness of the evening as the sun began to set until the vivid colors of pink, orange, gold, red, even lavender drifted in and out of the clouds. “Let’s see,” the words were spoken aloud. No one was there to hear. “That would take alizarin crimson with titanium white, that with cadmium red with white and that yellow ochre, white and a touch of cad red light. She noted the possible color combinations on the sides of the sketch pad as well.”
“Better get back,” again she spoke to her imaginary companion. “It will probably get chillier before long and I am not dressed for that.” Kathy rose and started back along the lonely pathway. There didn’t seem to be anyone else in view at all. How could anyone who knew of this place not want to witness such a sunset? Surely the local inhabitants hadn’t become immune to such beauty. Standing there, she watched the sun set all too quickly. Before the light could fade altogether, she headed back toward the car. It wouldn’t do to lose her footing out here on this lonely path.
The return drive went more swiftly than she had anticipated and it seemed as if in no time, she was back again at the Inn. That night she had promised herself that she would enjoy the luxury of dining in the opulent Gold Rush Dining Room right there at the hotel.
The shower was quick, but she took great care in choosing her clothing for the evening. In the lavish setting of that fabulous room, she wanted to look the part of her fantasy of belonging there. Out of the three elegant outfits that had been purchased for the trip, she chose the most simple. First she slipped on the
black jersey long sleeved blouse with the multi-colored sequins at the front of the neck. The long skirt completed the outfit with the sequins at the front of the waist. Low-heeled black shoes and a simple black bag completed the ensemble. She knew earrings were called for, but they managed to pinch her ears in a short time. As a result, that was one set of jewelry that was rarely worn.
A short walk down the gently sloping hill brought her to the side door of the hotel. Once inside, she paused to greet her hosts, the Madonna’s, not actually them, but their warm welcoming portraits. She’d heard it said that there was a “magic” surrounding this inn, where love was often found and nurtured. It was kind of silly, but she did want to feel as if she were their actual guest, not just some paying tourist. She smiled at the two in the portraits as if they had personally greeted her.
The well-dressed lady at the rock wall counter took her name just before she escorted her to a booth as had been requested. She was surprised and grateful that they had not refused her the large accommodation. The booths were shades of pink while above were myriad’s of lights. The copper conduits that formed the elaborate chandelier effect of lighting in the center of the dining room were designed of leftover piping that had been left over when the building was being completed. Kathy had also read about the swinging doll that had the costumes changed to suit the season. Imitation trees above seemed to be at home with the natural rock décor, as did all the designs.
Although she recalled every item, she accepted the menu. It would have looked foolish not to take it, not that there was anyone to care. In moments, she had received her Pina Colada along with an elaborate relish tray. Although dining alone was not always welcome, this time she was determined to enjoy every morsel and try to imagine she were here with a charming, and very special person. Dinner would be heavenly if he were opposite her, no matter what the food. How many times had that desire invaded her thoughts? At the exact appropriate time, the well-mannered young waiter brought her the crisp salad topped with ranch dressing and the sinful home made hot rolls with extra butter. She took her time; this was dining, not just eating. It was one time she almost wished she were a cigarette smoker so she could relax between courses. As it was, the waiter seemed to anticipate her needs and waited to deliver the filet mignon, which had been open pit barbecued and served with the old fashioned baked potato. It was indeed a dining experience, especially since she had planned the meal for over a year. If only she weren’t not enjoying this alone, but he was gone and there would never be another. Of that she was certain. It was difficult to think of spending the rest of her life without any companionship. But at her age and at that time of her life, all she wanted was some peace, a quiet life with no turmoil and no husband to have to please. One divorce, one loss and one death; that was enough for any woman to have to endure.
She was tempted by the exquisite desserts, cream puffs, French pastries and the most gorgeous cakes, but there was barely enough room for the premium ice cream that came with the meal. Still she chose to try the slice of champagne cake that has been on her list of planned meals for the past years. Even then, she found it nearly impossible to finish every morsel of that delightful treat.
While she was there, several couples and a few singles had come in, but the way the room was situated, it afforded a kind of privacy to each booth and table. Although she couldn’t see them, she could hear the band starting up on the stage by the dance floor. Again she wished could dance and be whisked about to some old fashioned music. The setting was opulent, elaborate and so perfect for a romantic evening. Perhaps she could leave by that far exit and at least see the couples, if not share in their romance. A tiny tear escaped her emerald eyes. Didn’t she deserve some real romance in her life other than a distant memory or had her brief illicit affair condemned her to a life of deserved loneliness? But it was too late to change the past.
As she walked by the other booths and headed toward the dance floor, a seemingly familiar voice caught her attention. It was impossible to see where it came from without making herself conspicuous. That voice, it couldn’t be. It must be because she was wishing for romance that she would recall the voice like the one so long lost to her. He would be over 3000 miles away, not there within her heart’s reach. That was the part of her life that she would always keep in her heart, but needed to push out of her very lonely mind.