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Deeply Falling
By Virginia Young


She sat on a bench in the September sun alongside a foot path and a twisting, shallow stream. She could clearly see the rocks just inches below the swirling water’s surface and mallards seemed to simply drift by, until she noticed their little golden paddles moving skillfully through the flow toward the sea.
She looked to the brilliant blue sky and squinted from the neon brightness of the day, feeling apprehensive and somewhat sad. Where had her life gone? She was home for her high school reunion, the twenty-fifth.
She’d gone to college in New Hampshire, married, then moved to Arizona where the desert mocked her desire to live as she’d grown, by the ocean. Plymouth, dear Plymouth, how wonderful to be back.
Nate had been a New Hampshire boy, crazy about the mountains and eager to explore the Grand Canyon and northern Arizona’s offerings. She didn’t want to go, but she didn’t want to deny Nate his dreams either, and then after two years of marriage, a baby was on the way. Farewell, sweet New England, she cried into her pillow as Nate slept next to her, unaware of her doubts about leaving for a completely different life.
She looked to the arched stone bridge to her right, her eyes scanning the cave-like shadowy area next to her, and
the occasional passers-by walking overhead. She remembered Joe’s writing. It was with luminous blue chalk and in a foot high cursive style, he wrote in a space about twelve feet in length along the stream’s stone edge, two words, Deeply Falling.
They were all together that day, eight of them, friends celebrating the end of their high school years and the adventure awaiting each of them. Laurie, the cute little blonde cheerleader who had claimed Joe for her own, laughed and danced close to the water, teasing Joe that he must surely be dyslexic for putting the word deeply first.
Savi remembered watching him, his thick, dark hair glistening in the sun as he worked. She’d longed for him and loved him since they were children, but other girls had staked their claim and Savi stood back, glad to have him in her life if for no other purpose than a friend.
With his artful task completed, Joe stood and looked at Savi. “Is it ok?” he asked. “I mean, is it straight and everything?”
Savi nodded, but again, Laurie teased that it should have been written Falling Deeply rather than the reverse.
“No,” Joe explained quietly to a few of them who listened, “you need to place the most important word first. Falling can be a startling, stumbling word, and followed by deeply, it could mean into a dark place of difficult escape.” He further defined his thoughts by saying that deeply falling, meant with your whole being, intentionally, to a softness. Laurie laughed and danced around again close to the water’s edge. Joe looked to where Savi sat on the slope of grass and smiled. She was his best friend and one who seemed to comprehend his poetic thoughts and murmurings.
She could see it all now as vividly as it had happened twenty-five years ago, that sweet expression from a boy she loved, certainly meant for another. Those periwinkle blue chalk words lingered, imbedded in her mind and heart. It was all so unmanageable when Joe hinted that what he had written was not intended for Laurie. It was a perplexing relief for Savi having been accepted to the college up north, away from there for at least a while. But then there was Nate, so charming, attentive to her, and she wanted the things in life he’d talked of; children, a nice home, a life filled with joy and contentment.
Savi and Nate were together for sixteen years when things began to change. They separated but stayed in Arizona for the sake of their son. Nate became ill and she returned to the home she’d once shared with him to take care of him until he died.
With her son now in a Virginia college, she sat in Plymouth and knew that it was time to return. She would sell her home in Arizona and live with her mother until a new house could be found in Plymouth. But for this bright September day, Savi allowed her eyes to drink in the memories and the present beauty. She and Joe had kept in touch through emails regarding the reunion. He was meeting her there, at the arch of the bridge.
She knew about his life. He’d graduated from Norwich, spent six years in the Navy, then came back to the Boston area to pursue his career. Out celebrating his thirtieth birthday with friends, he’d met Kate. They were talking about getting serious. The accident ended everything. Kate died and Joe was left with a left hip and leg severely crushed. She’d heard that he was lucky to be walking at all, but needed the help of a cane.
She looked at her watch, he should be there soon, and then she opened her book and thought she might read with her sunglasses on to give her eyes a rest from the glare.
After eight or nine pages of the novel, she sensed his nearness and looked up. He was there, tall, still with thick, dark hair, smiling, a silver-toned cane attached to his left wrist.
She felt her breath squeezed from her chest as she removed the sunglasses and met his dark eyes.
“Savi,” he said as only he could, “you’re as beautiful as ever.”


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I am a writer and painter - my writing always includes romance, but I am not exclusive to romance writing. I had a suspense story accepted in 2010 for Level Best Books - they publish an annual anthology for mystery writers of New England. I have also written and published four romance novels in the past year and a half - the fifth is in progress.