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They were sitting on the beach in the light mist of an early morning. Martha cheerfully chased gulls up and down the beach, happy to be spared the indignity of a leash, if only for a little while. No one else was around, and Lindsay was glad of the found solitude that the two of them shared. Too often it was three or four or more people swirling around them like the morning’s mist. Lindsay yearned for the moments where it was just them, alone, even if she didn’t have the verbiage to express it. Police work, and her ill-starred marriage, had taught her grim silences but it was a habit she was trying to break. No, was learning to break, because she was with a woman who would not tolerate a nod and a glance when words were necessary. Words were the currency of their relationship and, for the first time perhaps, Lindsay Boxer was not being miserly. She struggled, to be sure, but she was learning to give her words When she did, they returned to her, echoed with new sentiment and new meaning, found power in their cadence and settled with meaning but without weight inside her.
“Well?” Jill asked.
Lindsay quickly drew herself out of her reverie and turned to face the blonde. “What?”
“Are you going to get Martha? There are a couple of guys coming with a terrier.”
Lindsay smirked. “I think Martha can handle a terrier.”
“Yes but I don’t want to have to deal with being yelled at for not having the dog on a leash when she gets friendly or ferocious.”
Which, as Jill thought of it, described well Lindsay’s most common states. Well not friendly, perhaps. Guarded, cautious, solitary where all words Jill thought extremely accurate for Lindsay. But she had discovered (and reveled in the discovery and knowledge) Lindsay was more than just those qualities she presented to her colleagues. And she knew that getting to see them was a rare privilege, one she now doubted Tom had even been granted. Somehow Jill knew instinctively that when it was just the two of them, Lindsay flowered, eased. The blankness of expression that could stare down a suspect left and was replaced with a warmth and depth of feeling that few would believe the redoubtable Inspector capable of. But Jill was no fool. She knew what a struggle that easing was for Lindsay. And accepted it and treasured it and knew it for the gift that it was. She also knew that in time others might get to see what she saw too.
“It’s your turn to get her,” Lindsay said.
“Sure it is. I did it yesterday. Go get your dog since she won’t listen to me.”
“Our dog.”
“All right, our dog.”
Lindsay stood and trotted down the beach after Martha. She slipped on her lead as Jill brushed the light dusting of damp sand from her leggings. When she stood up Lindsay had returned with Martha in tow, and pulled Jill into a deep kiss.
“You realize one day you’re going to forget and do that at a crime scene?” Jill teased.
Lindsay shook her head and made a fierce grunting noise, which Jill took to mean no. She did not urge Lindsay to say anything further. Lindsay’s words had fallen away like the sand Jill had brushed off. But she was certain that if she immersed herself in the language of Lindsay Boxer again, those words would take on the same quality of the damp sand that lined the Bay beach. They would stick, cling to her skin, find their way into ever crack and crevice until no part of her was left untouched. And Jill anticipated that moment. It would come.