A Romantic Interlude

The cell phone in the back pocket of Greg's faded Levi's chimed loudly. He gruffly pulled it out to answer and saw her name. Margo, the current love of his life, was supposed to be en route from the balmy coast of California to meet him at his cabin located deep in the snowy woods of Maine. Luckily, he still had a strong signal even though reception in the secluded location was spotty at best at times.

"Babe?"

"Hi," she answered somewhat out of breath. "I just landed at the airport and I'm heading down to baggage claims. From there, I'll grab a ride and should hopefully be there in a few hours. It's drizzling here."

Although the connection was coming and going, he put together the words that she had been saying and replied, "I'm only picking up parts of what you're saying, but I can't wait to see you again. This time it's been too long since we've gotten together," he complained.

They had met a few years earlier during a extended cruise from California to Alaska. At the time he was living in Sacramento, and she resided in Malibu. Fate had put them both on the adventurous cruise; Greg had been rebounding from the recent loss of his wife from cancer, and Margo was vacationing with her girlfriends to take a break from her many responsibilities. They had hadn't been paying attention while in line at the buffet and crashed into each other . Both their plates went flying, and all their food landed in a big messy pile on the floor! Laughing, they had introduced themselves and had been almost inseparable during the remainder of the voyage. He was instantly entranced by her flowing blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, and good sense of humor. She by his handsome, classical features and winning personality. The only problem for them was that when they returned she was obligated to care for her aging mother who suffered from dementia and was unable to relocate; and he was stuck in a management position in technology that he hated but wasn't situated enough that he could leave yet. They had developed strong feelings for each other, and had kept in touch through calls and letters, and met up periodically to eagerly rekindle their flame.

On this current trip, they were meeting at the small cabin Greg had purchased on a whim after graduating from college many years prior. He was an avid and enthusiastic fisherman and dreamed of retiring there someday. Margo was planning to join him when she no longer had to help her mother since she also loved nature and was willing to live "off the grid". This was the first time she was visiting, and both were eagerly anticipating her arrival. Greg could just imagine her excited reaction to the rustic, cozy cabin he had fallen in love with years before and hoped Margo would love it just as much as he did.

"I have something to tell you," Margo said evasively.

Greg, although a patient man, had a hard time waiting for anything-least of all good or bad news. "What is it?" he asked eagerly.

No answer.

He asked again, somewhat impatiently, "What do you have to tell me?"

Again nothing. Greg then realized that he was talking to dead air; the phone call had been disconnected. He tried calling Margo but she didn't pick up. Frustrated, he figured one of them had lost their signal, and tried to call once more. Still no answer.

Grudgingly Greg returned the cell phone to his worn out pocket. He built a fire in the old stone fireplace, fixed some cheese and crackers, poured a drink and eased into his favorite lounge chair to wait. As he watched the growing blaze, he figured that Margo would probably try to call him when she regained her signal. After a few sips of brandy, he grew groggy and dozed off.

Awakened the bongs on his grandfather clock striking midnight, Greg was surprised that he had slept so long. The blazing fire had died down to burning embers. He looked out the tiny window by the wooden door of the cabin and gazed through the skightly torn screen. A dim porch light illuminated the nearby silhouette of the dense pine trees.

It had started to snow slighly at some point when his long winter nap. There were no signs of tire marks or footprints, and a feeling of trepidation encased Greg as he realized Margo should have arrived already. They had been planning to have a late dinner when she got there; but since the plane had landed about an hour after it was scheduled to get to the airport, and she presumably had to arrange for a different ride-all of their well thought out plans had flown out the window.

Greg tried to call Margo again, but this time got her voicemail which stated that it was full. Feeling a mixture of anger and worry, he began pacing the brick floor. An anxious barrage of thoughts was running through his mind. What was it that Margo had to tell him? It could be almost anything, urgent or just mundane, but his curiosity was killing him. Last time they had been together, they had not used any protection, and he wondered if she might be pregnant-the possibility had passed through his mind a few times. Or did it have something to do with her mother's condition? Or something to do with their relationship? Or something else completely?

Now she was late, it was snowing, and he couldn't reach her. Was she in a car accident or have engine trouble? Or had something more nefarious happened to her? He was so worried, he could hardly think clearly.

Suddenly there was an urgent knock at the thick wooden door! Greg flung it open brusquely, and there she stood. Beautifully, and ironically tan in the glowing light on the porch covered with lightly with snow, she graciously fell into his arms and they embraced longingly; whatever she had to tell him could wait for later...