“Jam, jam, where’s the jam…”
A furry white paw scoured through the refrigerator as Rupert Bear, the polite and mild-mannered resident of Nutwood, searched for the jar of cloudberry jam for his toast.
“Ah, there it is,” he smiled, pushing aside a larger jar of pickles that had blocked his view of it. It just wouldn’t do to have toast and tea for breakfast without the jam, he thought. And just in time, the smell of crispy toast filled the kitchen as it popped out of the toaster, practically begging to be united with the delicious fruity spread.
Once Rupert prepared his modest morning meal and sat down at the table in his dining room, he blew across his mug a few times before taking a sip of his black tea with honey. As he did, he looked across the table to find…
No one.
No one else was there.
No one to wish him a good morning.
Ever since Rupert had moved out of his parents’ house, no one had been.
He was 27 years old now, and still had no one to call his own. His badger friend Bill was engaged to be married, and even his pig friend, Podgy, had been married for four years now already - with three piglets of his own, and a fourth on the way. And sure, 27 was still considered a young man to most, but this house he’d been living in for the past nine years was starting to feel quite… empty.
Rupert finished his toast and tea in complete silence and solitude, getting up and setting his dishes in the sink before getting ready to start the day.
As he looked at himself in the mirror while he put on his comfortable red sweater vest and adjusted his olive green bow tie, he became self-aware of just how similar he was to his father - in fact, he was practically the spitting image of him. At his age, Rupert’s parents were already raising a child of their own; but here he was, standing alone in front of the mirror, with hardly a thing in this house to keep him company but his books - not just those he’d read, but those he’d written as well. He’d published 16 children’s books so far, and had just finished writing his 17th, with each one of them based on his own fantastical adventures as a young boy - plus a few admittedly tall tales, here and there.
But those days were over now, it seemed. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been on a proper high-stakes adventure. Such was the life of a grown-up, he’d supposed. He tidied the fur atop his head one more time, heading for the bookcase.
There was ‘Ruben and the Knight’, ‘Ruben’s Undersea Adventure’, and ‘Ruben and the Temple Ruins’, to name a few, and most recently, ‘Ruben in Timeland’. That one was his personal copy, as he was still waiting for his publisher’s approval. He paused for a moment, trying to recall what adventure came after that. There were so many of them, and they were so many years ago, that it had been difficult for him to keep track. Curious as to what his next book would be about, he went to his study.
When he arrived at his writing desk, he pulled out a small and worn leather journal from within its drawer. He flipped to the latest page he’d bookmarked as a reference for his writing, skimming along the next few pages after that. And then, he came across it. Though the date and a few letters were a bit smudged from the passage of time, it was still mostly legible.
“July 18th, 1935 - I’m on holiday with Mum and Dad at a sleepy beachside town called Sandy Cove. It’s been raining terribly all evening though, and I was so dreadfully bored (after winning 5 rounds of checkers against Dad in a row) when all of a sudden, I swear I saw a plane going down outside in the storm! Dad says it was just a reflection of the lampshade in the window, but I’m still not so certain... I think I’ll head to the beach on my own to investigate tomorrow.”
“Sandy Cove…” Rupert muttered to himself wistfully as he closed the book, the fond memories of his adventure there - and the lovely young girl he had met - rushing back to him. It was then that he closed the journal and decided that writing his next book could wait just a bit longer.
It was time Rupert Bear took a well-deserved holiday.
At the same time, over 130 kilometers north, a Golden Springer Spaniel awoke in her bed to the morning sun rising over the ocean through her open window. The sound of the calm Welsh ocean waves could be heard all across town as she sat up in bed, arching her back in a quiet yawn as she stretched her arms above her head. Just then, a few seagulls flew past her house, belting out a loud cacophonous cry as they spotted someone’s leftover pastry further down the sidewalk of Kinmel Avenue, where she resided.
“I’m up, I’m up…” she replied to the birds, who were already long-gone. She gently set her bare feet upon the wooden floor of her humble seaside home, getting out of bed to start the day.
Frances looked at herself in the mirror as she brushed the tangles out of her blonde bangs and droopy yellow ears, feeling the salty ocean air caress the sand-colored fur on her face. To her, the ocean’s fickle wind would often speak to her with a ‘mood’ it carried. Some days it was serene, and on other days it was cross. But today, the wind had a message she did not expect.
“Big changes are coming.”
Of course, this was merely her interpretation of it. The wind could not actually speak to her, as it had no voice to speak with. But it was a feeling so strong within Frances that she couldn’t help but take it to heart. She smiled as she lifted up her pyjama blouse, changing into a fashionable but modest blue dress that ended just above the knees.
‘Maybe,’ she thought, ‘Maybe today’s the day.’
Frances didn’t want to get her hopes up, however. This was far from the first morning she’d gotten the feeling that she might see him again, and she doubted it’d be the last. Him… that brave bear boy she’d met fifteen years ago. Not a day had gone by when she didn’t think about him, and how he’d changed her life forever.
Nothing happens in Sandy Cove, as everyone says. In fact, the town took pride in it, and made it their motto. A calm, peaceful town by the sea, where there are no troubles, no woes, just rest and relaxation. But Frances was quite different from most people in this quiet little village, and admired those tourists who came and went as they pleased; she desired action, death-defying thrills, and adventure. The first - the only - time she’d ever felt such excitement in her life was the day she met Rupert.
It started when they met on the beach one morning, and she had accidentally thrown seaweed at him. One thing led to another, and the two became fast friends, pretending to be cloak-and-dagger inspectors as they spied on potential ‘jewel thieves’. But then, things quickly got out of hand when they had a run-in with a group of real jewel thieves led by a fox known as ‘The Chameleon’, and against all odds, together they foiled their plans. Rupert had snuck onto The Chameleon’s plane and retrieved the jewel before parachuting to the safety of the boat that Frances had hijacked from the thieves, and together they made their daring getaway, returning the jewel to the authorities and being honored for their bravery.
That memory replayed in Frances’s head over and over ever since that day. But, as all good things do, it came to an end; Rupert and his parents returned home, leaving Frances alone and stuck in Sandy cove, which went back to its old, boring self just as quickly as he left.
Because as they always say, nothing ever happens in Sandy Cove.
But the passion and desire for excitement never left Frances. For much of her childhood, she would search for potential conspiracies or scandals to dig up, desperate for a case to crack or a criminal to catch. Because of this, she became something of an outcast within the community, as most of the town’s residents only saw her as a nuisance with a penchant for ‘causing mischief’ and being ‘up to no good’.
She could have left, moved somewhere else, but… in her heart, Frances felt she needed to stay. For now, at least. She never caught where Rupert lived, so it would be nearly impossible to find him. If she was to ever meet Rupert again, she held onto the hope that maybe someday, Rupert might come back. But year after year, she wanted… and waited… and waited. But still, Rupert never returned. In the hopes that she’d meet him again in the same place, Frances made a habit of going to the beach every morning for her daily walk - starting at the large rock where she’d met him, over to the lighthouse where they’d had their adventure, and back again. Every morning, she’d hoped to see that iconic red sweater and yellow scarf again. But every morning, she’d only felt more alone than before.
“Oh, Rupert…” she muttered, her smile in the mirror fading as she recalled all the years she’d spent waiting for someone that might never return. ‘Big changes are coming,’ the wind told her. Perhaps that was true, one way or the other. She’d waited for him for fifteen years. If today wasn’t the day, then perhaps this was instead a sign that it was time to move on with her life.
“If I have to spend one more lonely morning on that, that… gosh-darn beach, I… I just don’t know if I can bear another.”
Rupert inhaled the fresh ocean air with a smile as it greeted him, the wind rushing through his fur as he drove his car. After nearly two hours of driving, the town of Sandy Cove was finally in sight.
It was then that he finally felt his nerves setting in, the thought of possibly reuniting with his old friend now plaguing his mind. What would he say to her? Would she even recognize him?
Would she still even be here?
Hundreds of possible scenarios and outcomes crossed his mind, quite a few of which ended in disaster. What if she forgot about him? What if she didn’t like who he was now, after all these years? What if she was married? What if he’d wasted his time coming here because she’d moved somewhere he’d never be able to find her again? In retrospect, this entire trip seemed more doomed for heartbreak than ever before. But still, he was here now, and he had to try to find her. He wouldn’t rest until he did.
Rupert slowed to a stop and pulled to the curb as he finally arrived at the rental home he and his parents had stayed in all those years ago. Just like many other things in the time-caplule that was this little seaside town, it looked exactly the same as it did before.
“Now… where do I even start?” he asked himself as he got out of his car, his focus turning to the beach as a strong gust of wind blew in its direction. He remembered the rock where he first met Frances as though it were yesterday. It was a long shot, but it’d been years since he’d been to the beach anyway, and it wasn’t a bad place to start looking. He untied his shoes and took off his socks, placing them safely in the car and rolling his pant legs up to his knees before heading for the stairs leading down to the ocean.
“Alight, then. To the beach, it is.”
After breakfast, Frances had been on her walk on the beach for some time now. The waves crashing against the shore were in agreement with the wind, telling her that change was coming. But after fifteen long, lonely years of waiting, Frances just couldn’t see it. And yet, even now, she still had a shred of hope. She was one to believe in the power of miracles, after all; maybe, just maybe, she might happen upon a certain white bear.
Or, maybe not.
As she headed back to the rock, Frances wasn’t quite sure what to feel; so far, just the same as every other day, she hadn’t seen a single hint of Rupert anywhere. Tears began to slowly well in her eyes, and Frances felt a shudder of sorrow in her chest as the reality of her life finally set in.
She would never see Rupert again.
Rupert arrived at the large rock, circling all around it in some child-like hope that the same little girl might be there waiting for him, ready to throw seaweed at his face. But to no surprise, she was nowhere to be found. As he looked up at the boulder before him, he truly realized just how much time had passed as the rock seemed so much smaller now.
‘Fifteen years…’ he thought, beginning to silently scold himself for not making the effort to find his estranged childhood friend sooner. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised in the least if she’s forgotten me completely. Probably has a husband and children of her own as well, I’d imagine. Maybe I…’
Rupert’s train of thought stopped as he noticed a figure in the distance, a canine woman with fur the color of sand, vibrant yellow ears, and a baby-blue dress. In fact, the longer he looked, the more she resembled Frances to a T - though much older, of course. He discreetly snuck behind the rock, keeping himself hidden while keeping an eye on the stranger. Could it really be her? Here? Now? It almost seemed too good to be true. But with the distance between them closing, there was no mistaking it now - plain as day, there was Frances, a young woman, and even more beautiful than he remembered.
Rupert couldn’t help but blush through the white fur on his cheeks in awe of her appearance, but regained his senses as he remembered to look again for something specific. Although it was a bit hard to tell without giving himself away, he couldn’t make out anything shiny on either of her hands. It appeared she wasn’t married, after all. Searching around frantically before he lost his chance, Rupert smiled as he spotted something slimy and green in the sand.
Frances sighed as she looked down at her feet, following the footprints she’d already left in the sand. But it wasn’t long before she noticed a second pair of larger footprints, ones that weren’t here before.
Suddenly, a piece of gooey seaweed fell at her feet.
“Ah!” she gave out a startled yelp as she looked around, afraid that a strange man might take advantage of her. “W-who’s there?!”
This time, she was met with another piece of seaweed, this one landing squarely on her snout.
“Aaah!” she squealed, flinging it off in disgust. “Who is doing that?! Show yourself!”
“...That seaweed, it’s ‘Greis Velutis’,” the unfamiliar voice of a man spoke from behind the rock. “But around here, you just call it, ‘green velvet’... right?”
Frances’s heart began to race as a familiar beady-eyed white bear stepped out from behind the rock, wearing a red sweater vest and olive green bow tie.
“I believe it’s one of 56 different varieties of seaweed found in this area?” the bear asked.
“...I-it’s… 57, actually...” Frances whimpered breathlessly with a smile, her eyes in disbelief as tears began to trickle out of them. “I-is that… really you… Rupert?”
Rupert looked down at his body with a coy grin, facetiously patting himself as though he were double-checking to make sure he existed.
“Why, yes, I… I suppose it is.”
“RUPERT!” Frances cried out as she immediately rushed to him, throwing herself into Rupert’s arms and sobbing lightly into his chest.
“Frances…” Rupert whispered as they embraced, feeling tears welling up in his own eyes as he let out a sigh of relief. She’d remembered him, after all.
They swayed back and forth as they held each other for quite some time, cherishing this moment of their long-overdue reunion.
“I missed you terribly, Rupert,” Frances said into his chest, as he was quite a bit taller than her now. “I can hardly believe this is real.”
“I missed you too, Frances,” replied Rupert, leaning down and pressing his lips to the top of her head. “I’m so sorry I’ve been away for so long… I…”
“Oh, no need to apologize!” Frances looked up at him, her eyes still glistening with tears. “You’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”
“I was actually expecting you might’ve, well… forgotten about me, after all this time.” Rupert said, looking down into her eyes as he remained locked in their affectionate embrace.
“Absolutely not!” Frances shook her head. “Why, not a day went by when I didn’t think about you!”
“You… really thought about me every day?” Rupert asked with a flattered blush.
“I-I…” Frances realized how forward she’d been just now, reeling her emotions back in with a breath to calm herself. After so many years apart from her long-lost desire, she didn’t want to come across too strongly and accidentally push him away. “...I did. How could I ever forget you, Rupert? You changed my entire world.”
Rupert felt his face getting hotter by the second at Frances’s words, never having expected their short time together as children would’ve had such an effect on her. And now here she was in his arms, and she’d become quite a stunning young woman to be sure. He’d seen her only as a childhood friend before, but it was only now that he’d positively fallen absolutely in love with her.
“I have to confess something, Frances,” Rupert pulled back from the hug slightly, his hands gently resting on her arms. “I’ll admit, It’s been… a while since I’ve thought back on my holiday here all those years ago. But I was reading my old journal this morning and everything came rushing back to me. I’m sorry I-”
Frances placed a finger on his lips, smiling sadly.
“I already told you, you don’t need to apologize for anything. I’m sure you’d had quite the exciting life, much more than mine anyway. I’m just some girl you spent a weekend with fifteen years ago, so I don’t blame you for… forgetting me.”
“Frances, I-”
“Please, Rupert, let me finish.” Frances spoke in a serious tone as the wind began to settle, its waves sweeping with a hush against the shore. “I’ve been waiting for fifteen years, waiting for the day when you might return. Every day, I’d come down to this beach, hoping to see that brave, intelligent, and kind bear again. But I was about to give up waiting. I thought, ‘this will be the last day I wait, one way or another.’ And then today, of all days… here you are. It’s so unbelievable, that I expect I should wake up at any minute.”
“What can I do to prove to you that you’re not dreaming?” Rupert asked.
Frances hesitated for a moment, but placed her hands on Rupert’s shoulders as she closed her eyes and stood up on her tiptoes in the sand.
“...This.”
With that, she leaned up to meet Rupert’s face and pressed her lips to his in a kiss.
Rupert’s eyes widened in shock as he tasted the sweetness of Frances’s lips, but didn’t hesitate to accept her gesture of love as he closed them. He leaned his head down into hers as well, his arms reaching down to hold her waist against him as a rush of butterflies filled their stomachs to the brim. To Rupert and Frances, it would’ve seemed that time itself had stopped altogether, if not for the echo of the ocean’s applauding waves. They wished this first kiss could last for a lifetime.
But eventually, their lips reluctantly parted.
“It’s a dream come true then, it seems.” Rupert was the first to speak, his mind still a foggy daze from the aftertaste of Frances’s lips on his mouth.
“So it seems.” Frances smiled, planting one more quick kiss on his lips before their hug finally broke for the first time.
“I-I… adore you, Frances,” Rupert said awkwardly, though was still quite visibly flustered. “I want us to never part again.”
“I adore you too, Rupert,” Frances sighed happily as she held her love’s hand, and together they began to walk along the remainder of the beach back to the stairs leading up to town.
“And I’m holding you to that.”
“So what is it you do now, Rupert?” Frances asked as they ate sandwiches together at the local cafe for lunch - their first official date. “Still as exciting as ever?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘exciting’,” Rupert said modestly, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. “No, I haven’t had an adventure in years. I’m a writer now, actually - nothing too prestigious, just some… childrens’ books. They’re about some of my adventures.”
“You’re a writer too?” Frances asked in surprise. “That’s what I’ve been doing as well!”
“Really?” asked Rupert, stunned by the coincidence. “And here I thought you might be a curator at the seaweed museum or something.”
They both shared a laugh.
“Haha, very funny,” Frances rolled her eyes, but still had a good laugh regardless. “But no, I’ve been writing a… well, it’s a…”
“Go on then, now I’m curious.” Rupert said before taking a bite of his sandwich.
“...It’s a series of… mystery novels. About two star-crossed detectives, solving crimes together.
“Star-crossed?” Rupert asked curiously, wanting to know more.
“They always end up getting separated in one way or another. But even when they’re apart, they still manage to put the pieces together and catch the villain in the end. They complete each other, in a way.” Frances blushed.
“So I’m assuming. it’s a love story as well, then?” Rupert asked shyly.
“Well, they… do have feelings for each other, yes. But neither one knows for certain how the other feels.” Frances cleared her throat. “Strictly-business, you know. And as a detective, you never know who you can trust.”
“If I may ask… how does their story end?” Rupert reached across the table, resting his hand on Frances’s.
“Hm…” Frances smiled coyly. “I wouldn’t want to spoil the ending.”
Rupert chuckled.
“Alright then, keep your secrets,” he said, finishing up the last bite of his sandwich before taking a drink of water. “But when you finally write the ending… I’d like to be the first to read it.”
Frances smiled, taking a drink of water as well.
“I’d like that.”
“So, where would you like to go now, Rupert?” Frances asked as they left the cafe.
“Hm…” Rupert thought about it for a moment. “There’s a seaweed museum, and a driftwood art exhibit, right? And wasn’t there something about ‘rock gardens’? That sounds rather interesting, if I’m being honest. Oh, no.”
“What is it?” Frances asked, concerned.
“...I sounded like my dad just now.” Rupert laughed, and Frances joined in.
“Speaking of which, how are your parents?” Frances asked once they began walking in the direction of the rock garden. “Are they still…”
“Oh, they’re just fine,” Rupert replied. “My dad’s got a bit of a bad leg now, fell off a ladder a few years back, but he’s managing. Mum's fine too.”
“That’s good to hear,” Frances said, a bit dour.
“What about yours?” Rupert asked. “I actually never got around to meeting them while I was here the first time.”
“My mum,” she muttered quietly, “she fell ill when I was seventeen. And after she passed, my Dad… he made it only two years before he died of a broken heart.”
Rupert fell silent, unsure of what to say. He felt terrible, as though he were just bragging about how great his own parents were doing by comparison when all this time, Frances had been dealing with such a great loss all on her own.
“Frances… I’m so sorry,” he mumbled in sympathy, holding her hand tighter than before. “I can’t imagine…”
“Thank you, Rupert,” Frances said with a sigh, wiping a tear from her eye, “you really are such a kind-hearted bear, you know. That’s what I loved about you, ever since we first met.”
Rupert blushed, thinking it was really nothing special; it took no effort on his part just to be kind, but he supposed such a quality didn’t come quite so naturally to others - especially for bears such as himself.
It wasn’t much further until they arrived at the rock gardens, and Rupert was in awe of what he beheld. These weren’t just ordinary rocks - these were boulders, which glistened with golden specks and seemed to be arranged in a mathematical formation of some kind.
“These are the rock gardens?!” Rupert asked, “This rivals Stonehenge!”
“You think so?” Frances looked at the rocks. “I guess I never saw them as anything all that extraordinary.”
“Were these rocks arranged like this by the town?” Rupert asked as they approached an information plate.
“No, they were just found like this one day in 1703,” Frances replied, gesturing to the text written on the plaque.
“1703? Curious…” Rupert mumbled, “That was the year of the Great storm. I remember reading a book about it once.”
“A storm?” Frances asked, “Interesting, I wonder if that had something to do with it.”
“Maybe…” Rupert pondered. As he took a closer look at one of the boulders, he noticed that the golden markings on it were actually perfect circles, with dots and lines inside that varied with each one.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this looks like some kind of… language.” Rupert stared intently, at a loss for the meaning of these shapes. Could they be some kind of ancient runes, left by some long-forgotten nomadic tribe? Or could they be something… more? There was certainly a mystery to be solved here, but he would have to delve deeper into it another time. This was his holiday, after all, and it should be spent simply making up for lost time with Frances. His adventuring days were over.
Little did Rupert know, the adventure would soon be finding him.
“So you’ve traveled back in time to the Medieval ages, the Jurassic Era, and met Father Time himself?” Frances giggled. “That sounds absolutely…”
“Bollocks, right?” Rupert laughed along with her. “I know, but I promise you it’s true!”
After their tour of the rock gardens, Rupert and Frances were walking down the sidewalk when a short and elderly crow woman wearing a black hooded cloak slowly turned the corner, bumping into Rupert.
“Oh, m-my apologies, mum,” Rupert said politely as he backed up, taking care to show respect for an elder.
“That’s Old Carys,” Frances whispered, “she’s the town fortune-teller, but she’s nearly blind. And deaf. And senile.”
“Dyn ifanc…” the old woman croaked deeply, looking up at Rupert as she patted his chest. She took a step back, seemingly horrified. “Young man… the road you travel… it is not safe. Peryglus.”
“Uh… sorry?” Rupert felt as though he’d done something wrong as she pointed a bony black-feathered finger at him, her large clouded grey eyes staring into his soul. She continued,
“You will doom your children… and your children’s children… y byd… y bydysawd… Do not trust him.”
Without another word, the crow turned away with a raspy cough and a shake of her head, moving along down the sidewalk as though nothing had happened.
“Don’t mind her, Rupert,” Frances insisted encouragingly. “Like I said, she’s just a senile old crow. She’s told lots of people here they’re ‘doomed’ in one way or another.”
“If you’re sure…” Rupert said, not entirely convinced. As he watched the crow hobble away, he felt a chill down his spine as she suddenly looked back at him with those soulless grey eyes of hers.
“And this… is my home.” Frances said as they arrived at 42 Kinmel Avenue. “Please come inside.”
“W-what?” Rupert blushed a deep shade of red, his mind immediately going other places at that sentence.
“I-I said, come in,” Frances repeated with a blush of her own as she opened the door and gestured inside, realizing how what she’d said could be misinterpreted - not that she would’ve minded if the day headed in that direction.
“Ah. Yes… r-right. Thank you.” Rupert smiled bashfully as he entered, with Frances closing the door behind him.
“Please, make yourself at home,” Frances said as she headed to the kitchen. “Tea?”
“Yes please, anything you have is fine, thank you.” Rupert said as he untied and removed his shoes by the door, looking around. It was a very small house, yet it was easily one of the coziest-looking homes he’d ever seen. Frances’s bed was right in the living room near the window on the right and the small dining table was beside it, while the couch and television set were on the left. The kitchen was down the hall to the left, while the restroom and washing machine were across from it on the right. When Rupert looked down at the coffee table as he took a seat, he noticed a few small framed photographs - one of Frances with her late parents, and the other was a clipping of an article from a newspaper, which he picked up. On it was a photo of Frances and himself when they were children, being awarded for their bravery in recovering the Tiger’s Eye from the Chameleon.
‘All this time, I never would’ve imagined I’d meant so much to her…’ Rupert thought to himself, setting the photo down. After no more than another minute or two, Frances returned to the living room with two teacups of black tea.
“So, Rupert…” Frances spoke up as she sat beside him on the couch. “What do you want to do now?”
Rupert looked at Frances sitting next to him with her legs slanted in a ladylike fashion as she gently blew on her tea, neither of them breaking eye-contact with the other. They were alone in her home, with Frances’s bed taunting him from the corner of his eye.. He gulped nervously as his mind drifted to very, very indecent thoughts about her. However, being the well-mannered bear that he was, he did his very best to push his crude imagination aside. It was far too improper to even consider that as an option at the moment.
“L-let’s… see what’s on the telly?” Rupert chuckled anxiously as he looked at the TV across from the couch.
“Oh. Y-yes, that sounds quite… lovely.” A little disheartened but understanding the decorum, Frances got up and turned the knobs on the little black and white television set, and a comedic variety show came on. She returned to the couch, and once they’d finished their tea together, Frances scooted herself closer to Rupert and they eventually cuddled together while spending the remainder of the evening laughing together at the comedians performing their hilarious skits.
Once the sun had finally set, Rupert noticed that Frances was no longer awake as he felt her lightly snoring against his chest, the both of them having gradually shifted into a position on the couch in which Frances was laying down across Rupert’s body with her arms comfortably wrapped around his waist. As Rupert looked down at the silky blonde hair of his newfound love, he felt a kind of joy in his heart like he’d never quite felt before.
“Sweet dreams, Frances…” Rupert whispered as he tenderly kissed the top of her head, making himself comfortable as he drifted off to join her in blissful sleep. With her now in his life, tomorrow was a new day - a new lifetime - for him to look forward to.
However, it seemed that destiny had other plans in store for Rupert and Frances, as an ominous foreign ship loomed on the ocean’s horizon.
