Out to Sea

November, 1972

The tavern was bustling with sailors singing sea shanties out of tune and drinking their sorrows away. There was nothing more comforting than the company of old friends and the warmth provided by the free flowing liquor on a dreary evening for the men and women that frequented the old tavern sitting just off Belmont Shore. For some, it was the only place they would ever call home, others only stopping in for a night or two at most.

For Brandy, all she had ever known was calming waves of the Pacific Ocean and the ramblings of drunken sailors that frequented that old tavern. Before she took over, her mother ran the bar. Seeing as her father died in the war, Brandy spent her evenings at the bar doing her homework and napping in the back room. While it was not the life many dreamt of, Brandy knew there was no place she would rather be. The people that came into that bar were like family to her, no matter if they stumbled in every single day or were only sticking around for a day or so.

As winter crept up onto the shore, storms started rolling in more frequently, casting a dreary shadow on that harbor town. Brandy always enjoyed this weather the most — less rowdy customers for her to politely reject and more time to enjoy the things that she had less time for now that she ran the tavern by herself. Still, there were some times where the men who strolled in were less than respectable. While her skills at letting the drunken sailors down easy were admirable, some men just couldn't seem to get it through their heads she wasn't interested.

As she strode towards the bar to grab another ale for a patron, a burly man who reeked of booze stopped her, looking her up and down as she stumbled to an abrupt halt to humor him. "Say, miss, how much would it cost for you to warm my bed tonight?" The man stumbled to the side slightly, gripping onto Brandy's arm to steady himself.

"I'm sorry, sir. I'm afraid you'll have to look somewhere else for those services. I just run the bar," Brandy held a tight lipped smile as she tried to brush the man off.

His grip grew tighter, pulling Brandy into him as he spoke to her, "that's no way to treat a guest of your establishment, now is it, hmm?" His breath fanned over her face as he spoke, making her cringe at the stench of alcohol.

"Sir, please let go of me. I have other patrons to serve," she attempted to step away from the man, looking around to see if anyone had noticed her struggle. Sadly, everyone seemed too caught up in their stories of sea adventures to notice.

He chuckled deeply before he opened his wretched mouth again, "Do you think you're to good for me? You're nothing but a —"

"I believe the lady asked for you to let her go," an unfamiliar accent rang through Brandy's ears as she turned to look at the man who intervened. The first thing she noticed was how his hair was mostly pulled back, with a few soft curls framing his face. His beard was more or less stubble, but it suited him well.

"Your point?" the drunken man barked back, obviously irritated he had been interrupted.

The foreign man's jaw ticked as his eyes narrowed at the sorry excuse of a man before him. "My point is," he clenched his hand into a fist as he spoke, "if you don't remove your hand from the lass, I'll remove it for you."

Brandy struggled against the drunk's hold as he began to laugh at the idea of this slender framed man being able to beat him physically. As he was laughing, it was like everything happened at once as she was suddenly forced behind the foreign man who had come to her rescue. The man whose hand was once gripping her arm was now on the floor, holding onto his arm that seemed to have been dislocated from its joint as he groaned in pain.

"Now I suggest you tip the lady well and leave this fine place," he spat at the drunken sailor who lay writhing in pain. As he turned around, a few of the injured man's friends came up to him, laughing at their own friend's misfortune. "Are you alright lass?" the man asked Brandy.

Brandy looked from her arm, to the man being carried away, then to her rescuer standing in front of her, "I'm okay. I could have handled it, but I appreciate your help ..."

"Andrew," the man spoke, smiling at the brunette woman in front of him.

She held out a hand to him as she spoke, "Brandy. Now what can I get you to drink, Andrew? It's on the house."

The tavern seemed to have emptied out significantly during that time. As she stood behind the bar, making a drink for the man who had helped her, they spoke about anything that could possibly come up. She learned that he was an immigrant from Ireland that had gotten into the trading business as his father had when they first came to America. He listened to her tell stories of her childhood growing up in that harbor town as she cleaned the bar. Most patrons had made their way out of the bar and into the street by the time she realized how late it was.

As she began closing down the bar for the night, Andrew broke the comfortable silence that had settled around them as the night progressed. "Can I see you again?" he asked, his eyes twinkling against the dim lights of the tavern.

"I'm here every day," she chuckled, turning to him slightly to study his face.

He smiled at her, "so, tomorrow then?"

She matched his expression as she looked into his eyes, "if you would like."

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For the next 5 days, Andrew showed up at the tavern every evening at 7:00 like clockwork. He sat at the bar, watching Brandy as she hustled through the tavern, serving the patrons who had stumbled in. During her moments of reprieve, he held her attention, telling her stories ranging from his childhood to how his day down at the port was. Apparently, he was overseeing the transfer of good from Long Beach to another harbor up the coast that week, lending him to be able to come see her every evening. As the days went out, he began walking her back to her home to "ensure her safety," as he said.

That Saturday night, as they walked to her small home on a he outskirts of town, he looked down at the woman who had captured his attention in that short time, admiring her beauty as the moon light shone on her face. "I have something for you," he stopped, turning to Brandy as he spoke. He pulled out a silver necklace, holding it out for her to look at before making her turn around to put it on.

She held onto the pendant, admiring its beauty as he clasped the necklace behind her. "I don't know what to say. It's beautiful, Andrew." She smiled at him, her eyes beaming at his thoughtful gesture.

"I know you said your birthday was coming up, but I'm afraid I may not be here for the day itself. So, please take this as any early present," he smiled down at her, lifting his hand to caress her cheek as he looked into her stunning eyes.

She frowned slightly before catching herself, forcing the smile back onto her face. She knew this would come at some point, she had only hoped it wouldn't have happened so soon. "Of course, I'm sure you have other business in other towns just like this," she stepped back slightly, shaking her head to rid herself of the the disappointment she felt.

"I'm sorry, Brandy. I wish I could stay, but I cannot abandon my post. I've already extended this trip as much as possible. But I promise, I'll be back to see you. Even if it's just for your birthday," he pulled her back to him as he spoke, making sure that she met his eyes so she could know he was being genuine.

"Promise?" her eyes shone under the moonlight as she looked up at him.

As he held her there under the stars on that cloudy early December night, he laid a kiss on her lips, a silent promise that he would return to her at some point. "I promise," he pulled her into an embrace, holding her tightly as the wind blew around them.
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As she awoke the next morning in her small one bedroom home, Brandy wondered if Andrew would keep his promise. She held onto the pendant that hung from her neck, hoping that he could feel that magnetic pull, too. She did not want to get her hopes up, but the selfish part of her wanted him to come back soon.