Richard's knobby-kneed, pale legs stretched out on the beach towel beneath him. The sand was burning hot from the blistering Jamaican sun, and girls in scanty bikinis, holding margaritas strolled by in tantalizing tranquility. Richard took a long sip from a tall glass and smiled at his beach companion.

"Isn't this nice?" The woman's lilting voice beside him brought a nod from Richard. "I told you all you needed to do was relax a bit."

Richard drew in a large breath, and released it slowly as his eyes followed a new pair of slender legs making their way past him on the sand.

"Not that much," the woman commanded. Her tone laughed at him more than chided him. He couldn't believe how happy he was at that very moment. For so many months it had seemed like he'd never be able to smile, or relax, ever again.

"It's not a crime to look." Richard gave his beach partner a little leer, "unless you want it to be. In that case," he lifted his hands, and held out his wrists, "take me away officer. Just be gentle when you punish me."

"Who would have thought you were such an evil man?" She snickered.

Probably no one on earth, he thought resting once again on his hands, leaning back, and letting the sun drench his face with heat. With a heavy sigh he thought of the laughter that Marie would have spewed if she could see him now.