Jamie didn't choose the coast. His mom sent him here, somewhere
quiet, somewhere you can breathe.
But the sea had other plans. He met Sam, a boy who moves with
the tide, with salt in his hair and something unspoken in his
eyes. Then came the letter, a page
that had waited decades to be found, signed only with a mark,
two waves side by side, a promise from someone long gone.
In their search for answers, Jamie and Sam found more than
they expected. A kiss neither planned and the
first crack in the silence around Jamie's great uncle.
That mark is about to take them further than they ever gone.
Back to a different Cornwall, the summer of 1960.
Two boys, one love story no one dared speak of until now.
This is Shoreline Secrets, Chapter 5.
Two waves, one tide. The morning was pale, cold
enough to keep their hands deep in their sleeves.
Jamie's board was heavier than Sam's, wood instead of foam,
salt still clinging in the grain.
He shifted it under his arm, fingers tapped the nose. 2 waves
side by side. Sam saw it before Jamie spoke,
stopped walking. It's the same, he said.
Jamie's eyes stayed on the mark. It is a go.
Across the sky. The sound fell further than it
was they were supposed to be in the water.
Lesson starting soon, but the pull was here.
Surf can wait, Sam said. Jamie nodded once.
Jamie turned his head toward the Cliff.
Sam followed. The cottage stood above the
waterline, white walls catching the pale light, roof dark from
last night's rain. On the porch, a man stood still,
watching Jamie's fingers tighten on the board, the mark under his
hand. From high on the porch, Jamie's
great uncle watched the shoreline.
The boys were shapes against the pale sand.
Jamie's board was different, older wood worn smooth edges
softened by ears. Even from here he knew where the
mark was. 2 waves, side by side, his breast caught.
He had run his fingers over that same mark before, long before
the wind shifted, Salt carried up the Cliff.
Jamie's voice caught in the air, folded into another, a laugh he
hadn't heard in years. The beach below blurred Sam's
outline, Jamie's stance fading into shape.
He remembered Edward. Arthur's voice carried over the
tide full of salt and sun. Edward turned just in time for
Arthur to close the space between them.
A big hug, arms tight, words knocking lightly together.
Arthur laughed into his shoulder, breast warm against
his ear. They pulled back just enough to
see each other, both smiling. Arthur set his board down first.
Edward followed, laying the nose just above the tide's reach.
Arthur's fingers found the mark. Trace the twin lines cut into
the wood, 2 waves side by side. Arthur tilted his head toward
the sea. Waves are small today.
Perfect for you to finally beat me.
Edward smirked. Perfect for you to stop
pretending you're better. Arthur laughed, deep and easy.
Come on, then. They waded in, water curling
cold around their ankles. The boards rolled low in the
shallows. Paint faded in places, edges
dulled by years of salt. Arthur peddled first, Edward
following just behind. A small set rolled in.
Arthur glanced back, grinning. This one's ours.
They caught it together. The wave carried them in, side
by Rithi looked, salt on his
lashes, sun on his cheek, breath still fast from the wave.
Arthur met his eyes, didn't look away.
Edward chest rose, Arthur's fell, then the other way around,
a rhythm that felt like it could go on forever.
Arthur picked up his board. Edward did the same.
They walked back along the sand, boards on their arms.
Arthur said something low, just for him.
Edward's mouse lifted in a half smile from the porch above, and
older Edward stood still, watching the boys in his memory.
The shapes overlapped Arthur's laugh in Sam's smile, his own
younger stance in Jamie's. 2 pairs, 2 summers.
The wind pulled at the grass. The sea moved the same as it
always had. Jamie and Sam moved along the
same stretch, boards on their arms, the older boards nose
resting in Jamie's palm, right where the mark was carved.
The sand here was firm, holding each step in shallow prints.
Sam glanced at Jamie's hand, then at his face.
We'll go to mine first, he said. Pick up the letter.
Jamie nodded. They didn't hurry.
The boards were heavy. The path to the road was longer
than it looked. Sam's house sat low against the
road, the kind of place that seemed to grow out of the
ground. They left the boards leaning by
the side wall. Inside, the air was warmer.
Finding the letter was easy. It was right where they left it.
Sam set it on the table, edges yellowed, folds sharp as a held
breath. Jamie carried the page to the
doorway, held it where the light was clean.
Outside the board waited, nose catching a thin line of sun.
He lifted the paper to the carve, not touching, just close.
Left curve higher, right curve tighter, a small notch where the
lines met the same, not just a shape.
And now we know. He said.
Jamie nodded. Sam's voice was quiet.
They were more than friends. Jamie looked up.
The space between them felt smaller.
Jamie lifted the old wooden board, held it under his arm,
the mark brushing against his side.
The road back to Jamie's was quiet, lined with grass bending
in the wind. Jamie's great uncle was still on
the porch when they came through the gate.
His eyes were far away, out underwater.
Jamie leaned the board against the wall.
Sam caught Jamie's eyes, a silent nod, their fingers laced,
not hidden, not hurried. Jamie's great uncle's gaze
shifted from the sea to the boys to their joined hands.
The kitchen smelled faintly of tea in the sea.
Jamie's great uncle moved slowly, measuring leaves into
the pot. Jamie sat across from the
window, Sam beside him. Steam began to rise from the
kettle. Jamie's great uncle glanced over
his shoulder. I see you 2 getting along.
He said, the hint of a smile in his voice.
That's good to see, Jamie, feels like it suits you here.
Jamie felt heat in his face. Maybe.
He said softly, and Jamie's great uncle sat down opposite
them. Sam reach into his pocket.
He set a folded paper on the table.
Jamie's great uncle's eyes dropped to it.
The steam from the tea curled upwards, curling through the
space between them. He didn't reach for it right
away, just looked, breast pulled in.
What is this? In my great granddad's things?
Sam said. Jamie's great uncle's thumb
brushed the mark, then he unfolded.
The paper read in silence. The room seemed to shrink.
Only the cattle tickling filled the air.
Jamie leaned forward, voice low. I don't think he ever gave it to
you. He stood, letter in hand, and
walked into the living room. Jamie caught Sam's eyes, a small
tilt of head. Let's go.
They rose from the table as they stepped into the hall.
Sam glanced back. Great Uncle sat in the armchair,
let her open on his knees, his gaze fixed on the page.
Sam's eyes lingered and the sound of the present began to
thin. Jamie's Great uncle heard the
boys climbing the stairs. Come on, Arthur.
Laughter followed the words. Jamie and Sam blurred at the
edges. The boards beneath their feet
became a different summer. Now it was Arthur and a much
younger Edward walking up those same stairs.
They were still damp from the surf.
Salt clung to their skin, hair darkened by sea water.
Arthur grinned over his shoulder.
Edward caught up and pressed a finger to his lips.
They slowed only a little, feet soft on the steps, the air
between them already charged with what they meant to do.
Once the door closed upstairs, they slipped into Edward's room.
Closing the door was the quietest clip they could manage.
Arthur's back hit the edge of the bed.
Edward was already pulling at his shirt, laughing under his
breath. In seconds their tops were on
the floor, bearskin warm from the climb upstairs, still
carrying the salt from the sea. Arthur's hand rested at Edward's
waist. His grin softened.
You know what we should do low enough for only Edward to hear?
Get a tattoo right here, on our waist.
Arthur nodded. I love you.
Edward's breast caught half from the touch, half from the way
Arthur was looking at him. They kissed again, harder this
time, the kind of kiss that left no room for air and no thoughts
of stopping. Edward's hand slid down, finding
Arthur's belt. Metal shifted close, loosening
the boards. Under foot creeped softly as
they moved toward the bed, pulling at each other's clothes.
Mad was the one that had been building since the first wave
that morning. Arthur's jeans were halfway
down, Edward's hands on his hips, skin to skin.
Now Arthur's mouths found Edward's again, and that's when
the door opened. I made sandwich.
Edward's mother stood frozen, eyes wide, hands empty.
The smell of bread and cheese spilled into the room was her
shock. Arthur stepped back so fast he
hit the bed frame. Edward reached for his shirt,
yanking it up, the fabric twisting in his hands.
Arthur grabbed for his trousers, clutching them to his waist.
No one spoke, only the sound of the last plate spinning to a
stop on the wooden floor. The boards creaked overhead.
Another creak, and then a laugh. Only the laughter weren't
Arthur's anymore. Jamie's great uncle blinked.
The ceiling above him was the same.
The sound was the same, but now it was Jamie and Sam, their feet
moving across the boards, their voice muffled through the floor.
His hand came up, covering his face.
The first sob stayed in his chest.
The second slipped out. Jamie closed the door behind
them, the latch caught with a soft click.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The room felt smaller than it had that morning.
Sam sat on the edge of the bed, turned the letter in his hands.
Jamie stayed standing, watching the paper shift between his
friend's finger. You OK?
Jamie asked. Sam nodded once.
Jamie moved closer. The bed dipped under their
weight. The wind moved faintly through
the window. Sam turned his head just enough
to meet Jamie's eyes. Jamie glanced at the letter,
then back to Sam. You really think it was meant
for him? He asked.
Sam nodded. I do.
Jamie's hand moved without him thinking, resting lightly over
Sam's. Sam didn't pull away.
His fingers turned to catch Jamie's.
Then Sam's gaze dropped to Jamie's mouth, just for a
second. Jamie leaned in the space
between them, close with the softest brush of lips.
Sam's breath caught. Jamie felt it and kissed him
again. The floorboard under the bed
creaked softly as they shifted. In another time, in the same
house, love like this had been a dangerous secret.
Here and now, it was as simple as leaning in.
That night, the house was quiet. Jamie lay in bed, half dreaming,
when he heard it again, the faint groan of the attic
floorboards. He pushed the blanket back, sat
up, feet on the cold boards, another step above him and now
not there, and another, and another.
Tammy Rose took two paces. Torto door and stoned for
tonight. He let his great uncle have his
memory. Jamie's great uncle's shadow
moved across the attic beams. The air up here was cooler.
He knelt by an old trunk, lifting the lid.
Inside, a scattering of books, a scarf, A folded jumper.
Beneath them an envelope, cream paper, edges yellowed.
Mr. Edward Hargreaves and Miss Catherine Moore, request the
honour of your presence. Edward's thumb pressed against
the embossed date. His jaw tightened.
He set it aside. Next, a photograph.
Two boys in rolled up trousers shirts damped from the sea.
A slip of black edge paper lay beneath it.
Arthur Bennett, Funeral service, 12 September 1965.
And then a letter inside a signature he had not seen in
decades. Arthur, Jamie's great uncle, sat
back on his heels. The 1st letter, the one Sam had
brought still in his pocket. He took it out, laid it on the
attic floor. Beside it he placed a one in the
box. Same fold, same wave mark in the
corner, but the rest not the same.
Different handwriting. His eyes went to the corner of
the page. The signature Arthur.
Then he picked up the letter Sam had brought.
Didn't know you kept mine, he murmured.
Funny. It's found its way back to me.
Then his thumb brushed the name of the letter lying on the
floor. Arthur, I love you.
In the quiet of the attic, 2 letters lay between past and
present. 1 he had written, 1 he had received.
The ears between them were filled with everything he could
never say. Below the sea moved as it always
had. Above the night held the house
still, and in the space between, Edward kept Arthur close.
This was Shoreline Secrets chapter 5, Two waves, one time.
If you've been following Jamie, Sam, and Edward's story, don't
forget to subscribe so you won't miss chapter 6.
Until next time, we'll meet again where the waves touch the
shore. Thank you.