… and as they both cantered along the warm, nourishing sand they could feel each others’ sincerity. “Jack,” she whispers under her breath, “who are you?” “I’m a man, Effie.” Jack returns. “What kind of man, Jack?” “A good man. That’s all you need to know.” The couple continued down the roasted beach, the misty shoreline brushing up against their toes. The shoreline was a warm embrace, a sort-of comfort. “What sort of woman are you, huh?” “I’m just a woman, Jack. Neither bad nor good. I have my flaws, and there are times when I’m just simple.” A smile of discontent met Jack’s stiff face. Jack lifted Effie with his rugged arms, carried her into the frigid waters. She let out a joyful shriek, “Put me down, Jack!” Effie found a pair of warm, worn lips meeting hers. Jack became overwhelmed by a feeling of content and assurance; she was his, and he was hers.
