
Ilsa was a hard working girl, having worked almost everyday since she was 12 years old, when her father took ill and could no longer support the family like he used to. He was a fisherman, by trade, fishing off of the island where he had been born and raised...a small island called Brier Island, off of the southern tip of Nova Scotia. When Ilsa was a little girl, she loved going with her father twice a week, sailing around the southern coast from Brier, across the Bay of Fundy (she always called it "Fun-day" bay, associating it with the great fun she had every time she had sailing with her father across it) to Saint John, New Brunswick, where her father usually sold his daily catch. But, these days, for Ilsa, were spent working. From five to ten in the mornings, she washed, ironed and hung to dry many loads of laundry that she'd taken in from around the village. From eleven AM to eight PM, she tended bar at the "Seven Seas" pub. When she finally went home for the night, it was another 3-4 hours of helping her mother take care of her father. He had become debilitated by a massive stroke that had left the entire left side of his body paralyzed. Oh, he was alert and communicative, but he needed help in getting around, eating, going to the bathroom and other daily activities that he had once taken for granted. Ilsa hated seeing her father this way...a once verile, healthy, strong man. But, this was something that couldnt be helped. The doctor had told Ilsa and her mother that they should keep thier spirits up so that Joe wouldnt become depressed, as this would make a difference to his health. However, after awhile, it was coming to be a terrible burden. Ilsa was so tired at the end of a day that she would simply just lay in bed and cry herself to sleep. She never dated, didnt have any close friends...didnt have any type of life outside of her family. Emotionally, she was drained. Working from 5AM until, usually, midnite, she was exhausted. Her mother baked pies and cakes to sell. Mary Bourne's baked goods were notoriously delicious with a long standing reputation around the little fishing village, so she was baking almost constantly. So when Ilsa was out and about, delivering or picking up laundry, she would take in orders for her mother, but would set with Joe when she got home of an evening when her mother went to deliver them. ################################################################### On this one, particularly bright, warm, spring day, Ilsa was walking along Harbour street, the main street that ran along the entire length of the docks, on her way to the Seven Seas, she was thinking about when she was a little girl and Fundy Bay. She thought of how beautiful the water looked when the sundanced acrossed it...it always reminded her of a billion, brilliant diamonds that had been scattered across a huge blanket of blue-green velvet. She was so deeply lost in thought, that she didnt hear him when he first called out her name.... "Ilsa?...Ilsa Bourne...?!". She turned sharply, starlted out of her pleasant memory. #At first, she didnt see anyone that she recognized. The street was crowded with people shopping, runing errande or simply milling around. #She didnt hear the person call her a second time, so she turned back toward her destination and continued on. #A moment later, she heard footsteps approaching her quickly from behind. But, befoire she could turn around, she felt a hand on her shoulder. #"Ilsa?...Dont you remember me?" #She looked up into his face...tanned, smoothe skin, his smile wide and mishevious, peeking out from beneath a wirey but trimmed moustache; beautiful, flashing eyes the color of London Blue Topaz, peering down at her from beneath the bill of a well worn Naval issue cap. #He was strikingly handsome. She was sure she would have remembered this face...but, she didnt. #"I'm sorry, sir", she smiled coyly, "I...just cant place you...". #Smiling widely, his voice calm and low, "Well", he tipped his cap further back on his head, "...You were just a little girl the last time I saw you...you were with your father almost every time he'd port in Saint John on fish day...", he leaned in as if he were telling her some secret that he didnt want the rest of the world to hear, "...I was the one who used to give you those little peppermint candies...". #Ilsa's eyes widened with her smile as she squealed, "Michael QUINT?!...How are you?!!...My!!...It certainly has been a long time!!". She hugged him tightly, noticing the sultry, intoxicating aroma of his aftershave which she recognized as "Pacific Light". Her boss and a couple of men who came into the bar where she works wears it and she liked it enough to pay attention when someone wore it around her. #He asked her where she was going. She just told him, 'to work'. He mentioned that he was planning on staying in town a few days and that he'd like to stop by and pay a call on her father. #"How is old Joe these days, anyway?", he chuckled, an expression on his face as if he knew something naughty about 'Old Joe' that no one else knew. #"Er, Mr. Quint...", she began, but he interrupted her. #"Just call me Quint, okay, missy?", his grin was seductive. #She remembered, now, that her father and he used to call each other simply by thier last names. It was a military thing. She also remembered how Quint used to call her 'missy'...probably because he couldnt always remember her name. She remembered that he would always say, "Here, missy...have a piece of peppermint candy", as he held out his large, rough hand to her, holding two or three pieces of those red and white, swirled candies in cellophane wrapping, his eyes piercing into hers, his smile mischevious. #"Okay...Quint...", she smiled, feeling herself blush for some reason. Then she remembered the news she had to break to him about her father and her shy smile faultered, "...I...have something to tell you about father...". #Quints expression deepened with concern, "He's alright, isnt he...?". #Ilsa placed her hand gently on Quints arm, as she went on to explain to him about her fathers stroke. #"But...he's alert and remembers everything and everyone...it didnt seem to affect his memory...its just that...sometimes, its a little difficult to unerstand what he's saying...", she said, sadly. #A thought raced through her mind. Would Quint, too, find it too uncomfortable to be around her father in his current condition? Most of his other old friends had, resulting in thier not coming around much, anymore. It was simply too uncomfortable for them to be with her father, trying to understand him and seeing him in such a condition...and it was tragic. #She deperately wanted Quint to visit her father. Joe had really liked Quint and had really missed the company of his old friends a great deal. Besides...Quint had been the only shipmate that Joe had kept in contact with since thier tour of duty was over. They had often went fishing and barhopping together before Quint moved up the coast, then they only really saw each other when they met at the fish market. #Ilsa felt her father would really benefit from a visit by Quint. #She discovered her worries were simply unfounded. #Quint gave her a radiant smile, "Okay...tell 'ole Joe that I'll be around this evening, then". #Ilsa smiled. She was happy...relieved. #"Well, girl", he sighed, putting his fingers to his cap, "...I'd best not keep you from your work...I hope I'll see you tonight...". #"Most likely", she grinned. #They said thier goodbyes and went thier seperate ways. ************************************************************* #Ilsa got home late, that evening. The nightshift bartender, Virginia, was late in relieving her by almost 45 minutes and Ilsa was anxious to get home to see if Quint had been there to visit her father like he'd promised. #When she finally got home, there was Quint, setting with her father in the parlor, sipping brandy, laughing at old jokes and telling old sea tales. Quint didnt seem to be having all that difficult a time unerstanding Joe. It was heart warming to Ilsa. #She was sure Quint hadn't seen her. His back was to the door. She stood just outside the parlor door to listen. It felt so good to her to hear her father laughing, again...it had been such a long time. #She'd been standing there a good while when her mother walked up behind her, startling Ilsa when she spoke her name. #"Ilsa! Why are you so late in getting home?...I kept your supper warm for you...", her mother said, worry in her voice. #She shushed her mother, not wanting her father...or Quint...to notice her. #In a whisper, she asked her mother to set out her supper, that she would be in for it in a moment...she just wanted to listen to her father laugh a little while longer. Her mother understood. #But, suprizingly, to Ilsa, it wasn't only her fathers laughter that she couldnt pull herself away from...it was also the sound of Quints voice...so deep and hearty, with that touch of elegant New Englander accent. It seemed as if she were being hypnotized by it. #She boldly decided to step inside the parlor, only for a moment, she told herself, just to say 'hello' to her father who was sipping his brandy through a straw, clenched between his lips, in the corner of his mouth. #She walked over to him, placed her hand on his shoulder and leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Hello, dad", she smiled, before turning to Quint, "Hi, Quint...glad to see you actually did stop in to see father". #Quint lifted his head slowly to look up at her, his smile spreading, yet guarded, his intense blue eys flashing, "...Are you?...Really...?". #She suddenly felt weak. She felt giddy and light headed, her heart raced faster than her mind could comprehend. She made a hasty retreat from the room and went straight to the kitchen. #As she sat at the table, in front of the meal her mother had set out for her, earlier, she felt shaky and uneasy. She wondered if she might be coming down with the flu or something as equally bad. She couldnt concentrate and she certainly didnt feel hungry. #She wanted to discuss what she was feeling with her mother, but her mother had just quickly slipped through the kitchen, announcing that she was on her way to deliver Mrs. Platt's sons birthday cake, then to drop off Kate Martin and Annie Johnsons' laundry on the way back, then she was out the door. #Ilsa sat at the table, alone in the kitchen, staring down at her food. She concentrated on her 'symptoms', wondering what could possibly be wrong with her. She had never felt like this in all of her 22 years. At least, not that she could remember, anyway. She couldnt very well afford a visit to the doctor, now, unless it was an absolute emergency. Her fathers medical bills almost depleted everything they had ever saved and then some. So, she decided she would simply start resting more and drinking lots of fluids and eating better...maybe, whatever it was, would work itself out without getting worse. If she did begin to feel worse, then she would make an appointment with the doctor. #Just as she seemed to relax a bit and feel her appetite come back, Quint walked into the kitchen. #He stood there, in the doorway, one arm propped up on the jamb, leaning against it, the other hand in his jacket pocket, one foot crossing the other, looking relaxed and confident. He was looking a bit cocky, for some reason, one corner of his mouth turned up in a half-grin, his cap tilted way back on his head, exposing lovely reddish curls of hair. #When Ilsa looked up at him, her 'symptoms' suddenly returned with a feverish passion. The sight of him took her breath away and she suddenly felt faint. #"I hope I'm not interruptin' your supper, missy...", he grinned, removing his cap out of respect, "...I was just gettin' ready to leave and I thought I would stop in and say 'so-long'...". #She could barely concentrate, much less speak. All she could find herself managing to say was a weak, "...ok...thanks for stopping i to see father...I know it meant alot...I hope to see you again, soon...". #But, as soon as she had said that, she regret it. She didnt want to give him the impression that she was begging him to return! She groaned with embarrassment. #Quint looked a bit suprised. His amused expression made her feel worse, even thought he was still smiling. #"You do?", he grinned, from ear-to-ear, "Then may I call on you for dinner tomorrow evening, then?" #She felt as if she had been hit with a ton of bricks. She hadnt expected that! She was beginning to swoon. She was praying so hard that it was causing her to perspire that she wouldnt pass out and fall to the floor and make a blithering idiot of herself. She didnt know what to say or how to act. After all, this was her fathers friend, a man twice her age. She was so inexperienced, that she didnt even know if it was proper to accept or not! #So, what should she say? She certainly didnt want to appear impolite, but she just hadn't encountered this type situation before. Oh, sure, boys in town that she knew had asked her out to the movies or to parties, but she never had any time to go. She was always working. #However, with Quint, she felt so much more different than she had when the other boys paid attention to her. She didnt understand exactly how diffrent, but this was definately a different feeling! #So? How to deal with this? How to respond? #She decided to just go with her own instincts. She figure there was no harm in having dinner with an old family friend, just so long as she had her fathers permission to do so. #"You may", she replied coyly, "...But you'll have to ask my fathers permission, first". #Quint chuckled, "I already have, girl!", he bellowed happily, "...and he said it was fine by him so long as you agree to it!". #Yikes! She hadnt expected that! Well? If her father thought it was okay, then...it must be alright! #"Well", Ilsa swallowed hard, "...I'm going to have to make special arrangements at work and with my mother, first...". #"Alright, then", Quint replied, "I told Joe I'd stop back again tomorrow afternoon to see him...I'll check with you then, okay?". #"Okay", Ilsa replied, then added, "Incase I'm at work when you get here, I'll leave word with father, alright?". #"Okay", Quint grinned, turning to walk away, "...see you tomorrow, then". #He walked down the hallway toward the front door, stopping briefly to lean into the parlor door and wave goodbye to Joe. He whistled a an old, familiar tune that she was sure she'd heard along, time ago... ********************************************* #That night, Ilsa could hardly sleep. She tossed and turned and even got out of bed a few times to pace the floor. She tried desperately for sleep because, Lord knew, she already got precious little of it. #But sleep proved elusive, this night. #When the morning finally came and she heard her mother down in the kitchen making breakfast, she ran down to her. She wanted to talk to her, alone, about waht she was feeling. #"Mother, I need to speak with you...", Ilsa said, setting at the table, watching her mother at the stove. #"Yes, dear?...What about?", her mother asked, glancing quickly back at her daughter, "...And what are you doing up so early? Are you feeling alright?". #That was the question Ilsa needed to get her started talking. She wasn't really sure, before, how she should begin. #Ilsa was still nervous. Sort of embarrassed. She didnt know if her problem was 'romantic' in nature or not and she felt uncomfortable talking with her mother about such things. #"Well...", Ilsa stared at her hands, fidgeting, "...Since yesterday, I've been feeling quite...strange...". #Mary Bourne, quite concerned, turned off the burners on the stove and came over to her daughter. "What do you mean, dear?, she asked, placing her hand on her daughters forehead, chiecking for fever, "What seems to be the matter?". #Ilsa began slowly, "...I...dont...know...I think I need to see the doctor...". #Mary pulled up a chair and sat next to her daughter, "What, exactly, have you been feeling that makes you think that you need to see a doctor?". #Ilsa went on to explain the symptoms she's been having, leaving nothing out. #When she was through, Mary's look of concern grew into a smile. #"Ilsa", she asked, "When, exactly, did you begin to experience these...'symptoms'?...was it after Michael Quint smiled at you for the first time or after he invited you to dinner?". #Ilsa looked shocked. She never associated these feelings with Quint!...Or, did she?!...Come to think of it, it was only when she had contact with him that she felt them... #"You think, maybe, I caught something from him?!", Ilsa gasped, "Some exotic disease he carried from some place he's been?!". Now she was feeling her own face for signs of fever. #Mary threw her head back in laughter, reaching over to pat her daughters arm reassuringly, "No, no, dear...", she giggled, "...you have no sickness, no disease...you're in love!". #After thought, Ilsa began feeling quite foolish. A blush of deep pink spread across her cheeks. She lowered her eyes to try and hide it. #But Mary only smiled, brilliantly. She squeezed her daughters hand, "Dear, dont feel embarrassed...", she spoke softly, lovingly, "...being in love is a good thing...and not knowing what it is when it hits you for the first time is certainly nothing new!...Youre just experiencing something billions of people before you have already been through. The only thing is...", she bit her lip, unsure of how to explain how she felt without upsetting her daughter, "...I'm just a bit concerned about with whom you've fallen in love with...". #"but...why?", Ilsa asked, her eyes wide with wonder. #"Dear", her mother proceeded with caution, "...Michael Quint had already been married once and your father said his wife divorced him because he was never home...he couldnt stay away from the sea long enough to be a good husband to her. Besides, he's a bit older than you and he drinks more than he should and he's always fighting in bars...I...think you should talk with your father about this...". #Ilsa protested, "But Quint asked me out to dinner tonight and dads already agreed to that...". #Mary closed her eyes and shook her head slowly, from side to side, "...I still think you need to talk to your father about Quint before you lose too much more of your heart to him...", she insisted. ************************* #Later that morning, after Ilsa had bathed and dressed and they were all at the table, Ilsa brought up the subject (much to her mothers relief) of Quint to her father. #"Dad?...What do you think of Quint...personally?", leaning over her plate, interested in his answer. #Joe eyed her suspiciously,"...In what way, exactly?". #Mary, ever so nonchalant, "Our daughters in love with him, dear". #"MO-therrrrr!!?", Ilsa howled, in shock, "I cant believe you could just blurt that out like that!!...I thought, well, that it was private, between just you and me!", she buried her face in her hands, reeling from the embarrassment. #"He's your father, dear!", Mary insisted, "He's just as much a part of you as I am!...Besides, if he cant give you the advice you need, then no one can". She turned her gaze to Joe, who was smiling knowingly at his daughter, giving her a wink. He understood her embarrassment and sympathized with it. #"Joe...I want you to tell Ilsa about Michael Quint. Give her your thorough, honest opinion about him and dont leave anything out...", Mary instructed, "...before she ends up getting hurt". #Ilsa was still reeling from the shock of her mothers apparent insensitivity. Her heart was quite tender. This was her first love, after all. Ilsa felt far more comfortable talking with another female about her feelings, but a man?! Father or not, she still ran the risk of being teased about it all. And how could a man understand how she felt, anyway? #There was also the fact that he was possibly going to talk her out of feeling this way about Quint. She may have been frightened when she began having these feelings, but, now that she knew what they were, she liked having them. #But her father did understand. He knew this was a special time for his daughter, her first love. He felt he had to be as diplomatic about the entire situation as he possibly could...he had two women to please with his answers - a difficult task. #He reached across the table with his good hand and took his daughters hand into his. It only seemed like yesterday when her hand was so small that it seemed to get lost in his big hand. Now, her long, slender fingers draped over his fingers like a lace doilie. #"My dear", he spoke softly and slowly, so he made sure she understood, smiling, "...If it were up to me to pick out a perspective husband for my little girl, it most certainly wouldnt be Mike Quint. He's fifteen years your senior, which means he probably wouldnt be around for the later part of your life, when you'd need him the most. He's already been married, once and has had God knows how many women in his life, which means he's carrying around alot of 'emotional baggage'. He's a borderline drunkard who's been in and out of jail more times than I'd like to count for fighting, alone...besides all of that, he's too busy simply enjoying his freedom out on the sea. He's not just a sailor, by trade, he's a man of the sea...you'll always have to share him with that sea...". #He paused to study her face. He found heavy disappointment there. He didnt want his little girl to hurt, nor to be the cause of it, so he suddenly switched from being her father over to be Quints friend. Maybe something positive about Quint could come out of that. #"But, on the other hand...", he winked at Mary to try and let her know he wasnt going against her wishes, but to try and make thier daughter feel a bit better. After all, every parent knows that, if you tell your child not to do something, they'll do it, even if only out of spite, anyway, "...He is hardworking, honest, loyal and kind. I think I could trust him with my most precious possession, you, my little girl". He smiled and patted her hand. #She was touched by her fathers loving concern. She got up from the table, walked around it and kissed him on the cheek and hugged him tightly. She understood her parents' concern and she promised she would use caution when dealing with Quint, then thanked them for thier caution, but she was so excited that she ran upstairs without having breakfast(she was too excited to eat!) to pick out what she would wear to dinner that night with Quint! #She went through every stitch of clothing she owned, piece by piece - including her mothers wardrobe - looking for just the right outfit. This was going to be an important night for her...she felt it in her bones. #She thought about Quint as she tried on dresses, skirts, blouses...she thought about her single most outstanding memory of him. It was not about the candy he gave her or how he would smile and call her 'missy' or even the attention he gave her. #It was his smile. #The smile that made his eyes seem to light up, from the inside, as if they were two blue-tinted mirrors reflecting the suns rays off the ocean on a warm, sunny day...like a blue velvet blanket, scattered with diamonds... #She used to love to watch for him when she and her father would sail to Saint John. She smiled when she recalled that she could always hear Quint before she could actually see him. His loud, booming voice, wether talking, singing or laughing, would always carry over the already loud hum of the fish market crowd. But what she liked the most was when she heard his loud, distinctive 'chuckle', because that meant that he was in a good mood and, besides candy, she might also be treated to a cherry coke, as well! #Anither thought then struck her...could she have loved him as a child?...No...of course not. Impossible. Then again, girls of 8 and 9 do have 'crushes'... #She didnt dwell on that thought for too long, for she was too filled with bubbling anticipation and excitement! ************************ #At about eight-thirty this morning, Ilsa dressed then walked across town to Virgina Clarkes house to ask if she could come into the bar early this night and cover for her. #"Is it your father, Ilsa?", Virgina asked, concerned. #Blushing, Ilsa squeezed out, "No...fathers alright...its just that...I...erm...have a date with someone and its...really...very important to me...". #"A DATE?!", Virginia squealed excitedly, "FINally!!", then went on to ask about all the details. #Ilsa was hesitant, at first, to say anything about Quint, but excitement finally took over and it all just came flowing out. She gushed on about Quint until she realized that it was now past 9:30 and, if she didnt get going right then, she would be late for work. #Virginia had agreed to come in early to relieve Ilsa so that she could get to her date. It wasnt only for the money, though she really could use the extra cash, but because she really liked Ilsa and knew she could use a break. Virginia always felt so bad for her...she had no close friends, no life and all she ever did was take care of her sick father. The girl needed a break in the worst way. And it wasnt like Ilsa couldnt get a date if she had half the chance...she was a lovely girl...tall, hair the color of spun gold, delicate features, warm smile...and a heart of pure gold. She'd already given up her chances of a decent education to stay ome and help her mother care for her father. She was an only child. She spent her childhood overly protected. But she always gave of herself, her time...whenever, whatever she could, from helping the older villagers doing errands to local charities...whatever she could do for someone else. So Virginia chose to come into work early and give up one of her evenings for a girl who would give her the shirt off of her back if she wanted it. It was, Virginia felt, the least she could for her. **************************************** #At 6pm, the moment Virginia walked into the bar, off came Ilsa's apron in a flash, then she was out the door. #When she rushed through the front door of her house, she ran face-first into Quint, who was walking out. #"Whoa!", he laughed, "Where are you going in such a hurry, m'lady?". He showed a mischevious grin, looking down into her face. #"Oh, I'm...just...going up...stairs...", she said, all flustered. She was so nervous that she was beside herself. #She happened to glance past Quint and see her father, setting in his chair in the parlor, watching thier little interaction intently, a serene smile on his face...her mother, standing a few feet behind Quint, watching with a guarded smile. #"Well", Quint grinned, putting on his cap, "I'll return in about an hour to fetch you then, missy...". His smile was sexually seductive, but Ilsa managed, somehow, to keep her cool. She walked past him to the stairs. #Looking back at him over her shoulder from the bottom step, she managed, "I'll be ready", then she dashed upstairs before she either screamed in excitement or fainted. #She ran into her room and shut the door behind her, her hand over her mouth to stifle that excited scream, leaning against the door. her heart was pounding so hard that it felt it would break itself right out of her rib cage! **************************************** Ilsa had chosen to wear her most favorite dress, after all...a lovely long, pink dress, with tiny darker pink rosebuds printed all over it. It had little white plastic, heart shaped buttons all down the front, a 'sweetheart' neckline, short bell sleeves and it was nipped at the waist to show off her svelt figure. It was made of a soft, 'swishy' crinoline with a white satin slip underneath. It was a very romantic looking dress...she knew it would be perfect for this occasion. #To go with the dress, she chose her white, patent leather 'babydoll' pumps with the ankle straps. She had only been able to wear these shoes once before, to her cousin Betty's wedding, but not since. She hoped they wouldnt be too uncomfortable, though she didnt really care...if her feet began to hurt, it would just be the perfect excuse to set down and maybe right next to Quint... #When she had finished dressing, she sat down at her vanity to apply a little face powder, a light coat of mascara and pink lipstick. She didnt want to be overly made up, but she wanted, at least, enough to enhance her natural features. She had been blessed with natural beauty, though she felt it was the sin of vanity to admit it...she possessed silky smoothe skin with a peaches-and-cream complexion. She had large eyes with long, thick lashes and a perfect nose and full lips. #The last part of this ritual was to pull her long, silky honey blonde hair back and secure it with a delicate, pink satin ribbon that had originally adorned the neck of her stuffed kitty, "JingleBells", a gift from her parents on her 6th christmas. #As she left her room and started for the stairs, her sweater draped over her arm, she heard her mother call her from her room down the hall. #"Come here for a moment, Ilsa", her mother requested, standing in the doorway. #Inside her mothers bedroom, Ilsa followed her mom over to the bureau, where all the delicate, pretty perfume bottles had always sat, for as long as Ilsa could remember. Ilsa could stare at these bottles for hours when she was a child, pretending that she was a princess and that all of these delicate, ornate and some bejewelled bottles were gifts from admiring princes from around the world. Each bottle was unique and beautiful...gifts to her mother from her father, who would bring them from every port that he had docked when he was in the Navy while they were courting. When his tour of duty in the Navy was over, he would still go out of his way to find these for her whenever he sailed anywhere, until the stroke kept him from sailing. #"Pick one you like, dear", her mother smiled softly as she passed her hand over the tops of the bottles. #Ilsa was excited...and felt quite honored! "But, mother!", she protested, "These mean so much to you...". #"You mean even more to me than any of those do", her mother smiled lovingly, "Now, have your choice". #It took Ilsa several minutes to choose, looking over each one carefully, removing the stoppers, sniffing the contents of each one. #She finally settled on a lovely little blue glass bottle (the color of Quints eyes) with a diamond shape pattern cut into the glass and a heart shaped stopper. This one had come from England and it had a wonderful, light rose scent inside. #Her mother took the bottle from her daughters hand and pulled out the stopper, then dabbed a little behind each of Ilsas ears, on each side of her neck, then on each wrist. #"Now", her mother smiled, "Youre ready". She smiled confidently as she walked past her daughter, out of the room. #Ilsa turned to look at herself in the full length mirror. She was a little amazed at how grown up she suddenly appeared to be. She was satisfied with the way she looked. She smiled to herself, "Now, all I need is Quint...". ********************************************* #Promptly, at 7:15pm, the Bournes' doorbell chimed. Ilsa was still upstairs, trying to locate just the right place for her perfume bottle. #She heard her mother call from downstairs, "Ilsa!...Quint is here...". #She jumped, almost dropping the little perfume bottle she had in her hands. Her 'symptoms' quickly returned...with a vengeance. Her heart jumped and began pounding viciously inside her chest. Her knee's became weak and she began to tremble. She had to set down to catch her breath and to keep from fainting. #But it was going to be far more difficult for her to maintain her composure once she actually saw Quint, standing there at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for her to descend. #He was so tall and broad shouldered. He stood there, looking up at her. At first, his smile was wide and mischevious, but, when he saw her, his face softened, as if he had just seen a most precious sight... #"I'm ready, Quint", Ilsa spoke softly from the top of the stairs, smiling, fighting desperately to maintain her self control. #Quint had walked over and had placed one hand on the bannister post and put one foot up on the bottom step. He stood there, simply gazing at her. For the first time that Joe Bourne could remember, Michael Quint was speechless. #She thought to herself about how strikingly beautiful he was to her. He was wearing a navy blue suit and a crisp, white shirt with a silvery-blue tie that seemed to bring out the beautiful blue color of his eyes. He was absolutely the single most awesome sight that Ilsa had ever seen. #It was becoming almost too much for Ilsa to continue to maintain her composure. Her head was all 'swimmy' and she wasnt sure that she could even make it downstairs without fainting. #Oh...but she had to try! #She took a couple of deep breaths and began to descend, taking each step carefully, slowly. She didnt want to waste one moment with Quint for any reason. #When she finally reached the third step up from the bottom, Quint put out his hand for her. She hesitated a moment...that mind-numbing smile behind that outstretched hand! #She placed her trembling, delicate hand inot his large, strong steady hand. He guided her slowly, but steadily to his side, where he slipped his strong arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, smiling down at her as if to say, "youre safe with me"... The aroma of his "Pacific Light" aftershave was almost overwhelming. #She suddenly felt as if she had lost all sense of time and reality as she swooned in his embrace as he spoke - fuzzy, mumbled, unrecognizeable words (at least to Ilsa) to her parents. #When thier conversation was over, Quint took her sweater from her arm and draped it gently, lovingly over her shoulders. Smiling brightly, he leaned into her to whisper into her ear, "Are you ready to escort me out for the evening, m'lady?". #All she could do without passing out was to smile up at him and nod 'yes'. #Quint and Ilsa walked hand in hand to his truck, parked right out front. He opened the door for her and helped her up, inside. After he closed the door behind her, he stood there to gaze at her through the window a moment. She felt absolutely 'giddy' as she watched him walk around the truck, with a spring in his step and a smile on his lips, to the drivers side. She actually had to press her knuckles against her lip to keep from squealing with excitement...he was so GORGEOUS!! #He took her to a nice local restraunt called "Pirate Jacks Cove". It actually sat on pilings right over the water, on the beach. Quint acquired for them a little table in the corner, way in the back, next to the glass wall, overlooking the ocean. #"Would you care to set next to the water, Ilsa?", he asked her, considerately. "Yes, please", she said, actually willing to set anywhere with him at this point. He helped her into her chair then sat down closely beside her. #They had a delicious, filling meal...Ilsa had the lobster and Quint had the swordfish. they talked as they ate, discussing long ago encounters, of how Quint and Joe had met, in the Navy together...about the quest he was on for the 'big shark' and on and on, all through dinner, dessert and coffee. #At one point, Quint became frightfully emotional as he spoke of the ship he had been on during the war, the USS Indianapolis (he and her father had been assigned to different ships when the war came). That was when he reached over and took her hand firmly into his as he spoke of how thier ship had been torpedoed and of the horrors he and his shipmates had to endure to survive. He spoke mostly of the sharks...which answered the question she was going to ask, about why he was so enthused about capturing the biggest shark. #Although he didnt go into graphic detail for the sake of the innocent young lady setting at his side, she could still tell that, whatever the whole story was, it must have been horribly bad to upset him this much. More traumatic than he would let on. He would gently squeeze her hand as if to say, 'please dont leave me alone', as he got a far-away look in his eyes as he spoke, staring out over the water. #She couldnt seem to take her eyes off of his...those same eyes that had been so bright and full of life, earlier, now appeared to have seen things that no other human being should have ever had to see. She expected, at any moment, to see tears streaming from them, but...he was much stronger than that. Perhaps he felt it wasn't 'manly' to show too much emotion? Or, maybe, he was simply afraid to show any emotion, or he just might break down and never stop? #But his large, strong hand felt good enclosed around hers. It somehow made her feel secure, protected and special. She thought it strange how a simple thing like this could make her feel so good. She thought, 'if this is love, give me more! I like it!'. #Quint ordered them both a brandy. Ilsa protested. Although serving liquor to others was her profession, it had never passed her own lips. #"Quint, I dont drink...I never have...". #He smiled. One of those smiles that lit up his eyes in a way that reminded her of the blue-tinted mirrors reflecting the bright rays of the sun, "...thats okay, m'lady", he spoke softly, just above a whisper, "...it actually tastes pretty good..its apricot flavored!...Besides, this little bit wont do you no harm, I promise...". His smile seemingly innocent and confident. #When the brandy arrived at the table, Quint took his down in one swallow. He sat the glass back down and looked over at Ilsa. She stared at her glass. He leaned in to whisper, "...But if it does, I promise not to take advantage of you". She looked at him. he was grinning devilishly. He brushed his warm lips across her earlobe, sending a wild, tingling sensation down through her body, causing her to shiver. ********************************************************* #After Ilsa sipped down her brandy, under Quint's watchful smile, he asked her if she would like to go for a walk along the beach. Since it was such a warm, fresh, starlit evening, she agreed. #They didnt need the truck, since the beach was just outside the restraunt. Once on the sand, Ilsa stopped to remove her high-heels. She admired the protective way that he held tightly onto her as she leaned against him for support. #When her shoes were off, he reached for her hand so that he could hold onto it as they strolled along the shore. #They walked along for several hundred yards, not saying much, just making little comments on how wonderfull fresh the air was or how beautiful the stars were...stopping once, briefly, as Quint removed his jacket and tie and unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt. #When they finally decided to stop and rest, Quint turned to her and placed his hands firmly on her waist and pulled her close to him. Thier faces only inches apart, she saw a serious expression clouding over his face as he spoke softly to her, in a tone that reminded her of a low growl, "Ilsa, maybe I shouldnt be so bold on our first date, but I cannot deny that I am an impatient man...". #He fell silent for a moment, his eyes searching her face for reaction before he dare to continue. #"I've always thought of you as a special girl", he went on, softer than before, "...a beautiful, intelligent, sweet...oh, very, very sweet...", his voice lowering to just above a whisper as he spoke that last line, slowly lowering his warm, moist lips dwon onto hers, bringing his other arm up around her shoulders, pulling her tightly against his hard, solid body, kissing her passionately. #She made a weak attempt at pushing him away, her rules of propriety completely failing her. If he hadn't realized that she was on the brink of breaking his promise to her, that he wouldnt take advantage of her and pulled back on his own, she wouldnt have found the strength, alone, to have kept them from going any further... #Out of breath, his heart beating rapidly, he took both of her hands tightly into his and held them as he spoke, "When I saw you again, yesterday, for the first time since you've grown up, you've made me feel a way that I've never felt before, not with any woman I've ever known...". He pulled her into a tight, secure embrace before continuing, "...I dont know how to explain it, woman...all I know is that I have got to have you in my life. Thats all I know, now...thats all I want...". #She pulled back to look up at him, "Quint, I think I've loved you all of my life and didnt even realize it until this morning, when I talked to mother about it...". #He grinned, "You told your mother that youre in love with me...?". #She nodded, lowering her face from his gaze to hide her blushing cheeks, but he put his finger beneath her chin to lift her face upward once again. His kiss, this time, was a tender one. #"Ilsa, I know I'm probably moving a little too quickly here, so, please...forgive me...but you would make me a very happy man if you would consider consenting to be my bride...". #"I dont need to consider it, here...", she smiled, her eyes sparkling so brightly that the stars should have fell from the sky in shame, "...I've already thought about it and I know that youre the one I want as my husband...". #His huge, bright smile was of love and relief as he pulled her to him and kissed her, sweetly. ********************************************** #It is now three years later, and Ilsa Quint is standing at her kitchen sink preparing dinner for herself and her two very young sons. Her husband was out on the ocean, many miles away, fishing for thier living (and doing a fine job of it, as well). #He usually rang the bell on his boat, the "Orca", when he was on his way into port of an evening, to let his family know that he was on his way home...a little 'signal' they had worked out between them back when they were first married so that she would know when to set out his supper. #She hadn't heard the Orca's bell yet, this night, so she assumed that he would be late. There were a few times when Quint would come in quite late, when he decided to either sail off to a market further away to sell his daily catch, especially if he had heard that there was a better price going there, or he decided to stop off at a local pub for a beer or two before coming home. #So, this night, after she had fed and bathed her babies and had put them to bed, she sat down to eat her supper, alone. #Later, as she stood once more at the kitchen sink, washing the remaining dinner dishes, she finally heard the familiar ringing of the Orca's brass ship bell and she knew that her man was on his way. #She hurriedly sat out the plate of food that she'd kept warm for him, on the stove...she realised there were times when he could be quite late, but he always came home of a night, no matter what...and when he did, he was always hungry when he got there. #She greeted him at the door when he arrived. He kissed her in his 'happy-to-be-home' way that she always looked forward to, then brought his hand out from behind his back and extended it to her...a huge, mischevious grin on his face. #Smiling with anticipation, she took the small, white paper bag that sat upon his large hand. #Inside the bag was a small, ornate, crystal perfume bottle and several little peppermint candies... ##################THE END########################