We decided next time we would definitely stay in the middle of the action. Park our car and forget it. I'm a fan of walking everywhere if possible. There was a touristy atmosphere, but also a tropical vibe which I loved. We know where - and where not - to buy Key Lime Pie now. And next time I want to hit Hemingway's house (hey, I'm a writer) I'd love to just walk the streets, try more restaurants. Explore some of the other Keys: Key Largo, Marathon, Islamorada. And I would spend a lot more time on the beach.
When I got back home I realize how few pictures I'd taken. But I'm happy to share some of the ones I have.
I can now say I've been at the southernmost spot in the US. (And no, I don't plan to ever hit the northermost!)
And here's a little beach excerpt from The Cottage Next Door:
“Can’t sleep?”
Sylvie started. Hunter’s disembodied voice sounded loud in the darkness. She couldn’t see a thing on the deck next door, but had to assume he was sitting in his usual deck chair. Had he heard her moan?
Her heartbeat slowed back down to normal. “No.” She held her breath, waiting for him to swear and stomp into the cottage for intruding on his want-to-be-alone time. Or make a sarcastic comment about what she’d been doing when she thought no one was there.
“This is my favorite time at the beach,” he said, surprising her with his deep, pleasant tone.
“Because you can’t see the hundreds of people around you?”
His soft chuckle surprised her even more. He was quiet for a moment, then said, “Partly. But there’s something about the ocean at night. Do you hear it? Right now, this isn’t the fun-loving shore where kids splash and make sandcastles. It’s more primitive.” He was silent for a moment, and Sylvie got caught up in the roar of the waves as they crashed onto the beach. The sound pulled at her, called to her.
“Think of the hundreds of thousands of years the ocean has been pounding the sand,” he went on. “Eating away at the land, reclaiming it. Taking it back into the bowels of the deep.”
Her body heated more, even with the cooling breeze. His voice rolled over her, as powerful as the tug of the waves. She’d known there had to be more to him than that angry, bitter man she’d seen so far.
“Ashes to ashes? Dust to dust? Ocean to ocean?” she asked softly.
The waves pummeled the shore for several long moments before he replied, “Something like that.”
Natasha
The Cottage Next Door - available now
www.natashamoore.com
1 comment:
A few years back, I splurged and rented a house in Tavernier (right below Key Largo) for 9 days. The husband and I traveled all down The Keys and spent an entire day just walking around Key West. My lifelong dream was to visit Hemingway's home and pet his six-toed cats and that's exactly what I did. You must go back and stay a while. I loved the little town where we stayed because it wasn't too busy with tourists but had much to see and plenty of local restaurants.
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