Devoted

The salty breeze of the sea comes sweeping through the open windows, carrying with it the distant sound of waves crashing against the rocky shore. Florence stands on the porch of James's family home, her hand resting on her growing belly. The house, a weathered but sturdy structure, stands proudly on the cliff side, overlooking the vast expanse of the ocean. It's a place of both beauty and isolation, the untouchable cliffs are as rocky as her relationship with her newlywed husband, James.

She gazes out at the lighthouse in the distance, a figure emerging from the mist. Ron, the older lighthouse keeper, is walking towards Florence, his gate noticeably uneven, his loyal dog Alfie trotting beside him. Ron's burly appearance, contradictory with his kind nature, and the dog's playful spirit bring a sense of comfort to Florence. The thought of not being alone in this remote place warms her heart; she knows once the baby comes Ron will be her only source of the outside world.

"Afternoon, Flo!" Ron greets with a nod, his voice gravelly from the pack of cigarettes he consumes each day. "Everything alright with the little one?"

Florence laughs at the fatherly concern Ron has begun developing over her, and the unborn child. She does a close inspection over Ron; his greying wiry beard reaching his chest, cloudy blue eyes, and stocky build seemingly appear in good health. "Yes, all is well. Thank you, Ron. It's all so new still, and hard to think that it's just me here. Until James is back home, of course."

"Oh, now, you'll find your way about it! Just takes time for the land to settle your bones." Ron says casually as he looks out over the estate, the porch of the Compton home the perfect vantage point. She sighs as she leans against the wooden pillar beside her thinking of when she will ever call this place her own, not the Compton's. After all she is a Compton now. She almost forgets that Ron is still standing before her, running a gnarled hand across his chin as he clears his throat to capture her attention again.

"Don't you worry, James is a strong lad. Once he is done flying for this bloody war, he'll be back. If you need anything, Alfie and I are just a shout away." Ron's tone is kind as he gives Florence a pat on the back before ambling away, whistling for the grey wolfhound. "I'll be workin' around the lighthouse this week! Rather a big job but I'm here!"  Ron calls, pausing in the yard as Florence gives Alfie a farewell scratch behind the ears. The large dog then dutifully returns to its master's side, tongue lolling from the side of its mouth.

Florence watches Ron navigate the rocky terrain to the lighthouse and makes a mental note to offer help with his leg. While he has yet to complain about it she can see the lines of pain etched on his face at times. So she will take the initiative to help him. Taking inventory of what she may have left over and what she will need to pick up  off of memory she watches over her neighbors. After Ron and Alfie disappear into the dark rectangle of the door, Florence returns to her task of unpacking. The house, having been a vacation destination for James's  family, has been left in disarray since the start of the war.

Inside the house, the monstrous task of unpacking feels daunting. She forces herself to complete at least the kitchen, working hard and only stopping for a light meal. As she comes back to the two remaining boxes in the corner, she finds herself loathing the mess even more. Wiping the sweat from her brow with the blue sleeve of her cardigan she sighs woefully. A cold breeze bursts through the small kitchen sending the loose newsprint packing floating  all across the room like snowflakes. Going to the open window over the kitchen sink to close it;  she stares out into the dusky night sky.

The sound of the crashing waves calls to Florence; she has yet to make time to travel down to the rocky shoreline. Ron has cautioned that the area could be dangerous; rocky terrain perfect for breaking an ankle, high tide, and, of course, the errant plane or submarine. But Florence does not particularly agree that an enemy plane or submarine would be hanging around such a remote, unimportant area. Looking back at the two boxes in the corner she decides to take a break, she deserves a reward for what she's accomplished in the kitchen.