The next Saturday Maggie repeated her ritual. She sipped her favorite coffee from her favorite cup in her favorite spot, and enjoyed her favorite view. She didn't think about the stranger as she carried her cup through the door to the garden. She gazed in all directions and inhaled the fresh morning air. She noticed some of the petals had fallen from a few blooms on the rose bushes and thought about clipping some later in the day. When she looked at the salmon colored roses, she recalled the incident from the previous week. She bent forward and reached toward one of the blooms and touched it. She loved the salmon colored roses. They seemed so regal. They reminded her of better days, when she and Bitty's father were still together. But that was over. A gust of wind blew the left side of her sweater open, tousled her hair, and brought her back to the present.
Maggie could hear the wind picking up. The sun appeared to drift in and out of puffy white clouds as they moved though the sky, dragging their shadows across the fields and the never ending rows of beans. As Maggie looked around at the swaying branches and leaves, she saw the stranger once again, coming up the road from the sea. This time the man walked over toward the garden area and to the gate which faced the road. Maggie saw him approaching and walked across the garden in time to meet him there.
As they faced each other, the man looked past Maggie, at the rose bushes, now behind her. He nodded toward them and said, "Beautiful garden you have here."
"Thank you," Maggie said. She turned slightly and looked at the roses. "Things seem to grow well here without much attention." The man appeared to be in his fifties, handsome despite his somewhat haggard and unkempt appearance. He wore a gray hooded jacket. His pants were worn and resembled Army fatigues. He stood a few inches taller than she. His furrowed brow expressed a look of fear, or concern she thought, but wasn't sure which. "Are you from around here?" Maggie asked.
"No, I live in the city. I like the walk to the sea from town," he said, his eyes not meeting hers. He looked down the road toward the ocean. "I never came back this way until a couple of weeks ago. Thought I'd give it a try. I like the trees. Eucalyptus," he said as he looked at them. Then he looked at her. Maggie was bewildered by the way he spoke. Although his voice was slightly uneven and a little weak, he just didn't sound like anyone she would expect to be dressed that way. He was too articulate. The man looked toward the road again. Then he turned back toward Maggie and said, "It was a pleasure to meet you."
Sensing he was about to leave, Maggie reached out her hand and said, "I'm Maggie."
He shook her hand, smiled and said, "Ben." He nodded his farewell, then left without looking back.