Abigail went to the widow’s walk on the top of the roof of their Cape Cod house, put the spyglass to her eye and scanned the sea. She did this after she woke up, and before she went to bed.
Then she descended the steps down into the house, patiently and carefully putting the spyglass back in its case as Henrik waited at the kitchen table, a coffee cup in his hand. Every morning, he would look at at Abigail arriving from the lookout tower, his expression questioning, as he tried to figure out which way the wind blew. Her face was incredibly difficult to read.
That is, until she smiled. And she routinely followed that with saying, “No sails on the horizon. When the captain’s away, the crew will play.”
Every time, Henrik matched her grin and kissed her.
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