Lisa gazed out over the (Caribbean) Sea, feeling the faint (breeze) against her face - eyes shut, the white sand warm between her bare toes. The place was beautiful (beyond) belief, but it was still unable to ease the (grief) she felt as she remembered the last time she had been here.

     She had married James right here on this spot three years ago to the day. Dressed in a simple white shift dress, miniature white roses attempting to tame her long dark curls, Lisa had been happier than she had ever thought possible. James was even less formal but utterly (irresistible) in creased summer trousers and a loose white cotton shirt. His dark hair slightly ruffled and his eyes full of (adoration) as his looked at his bride to be. The justice of the peace had read their vows as they held hands and laughed at the sheer joy of being young, in love and staying in a five star resort on the Caribbean island of the Dominican Republic. They had seen the years (blissfully) stretching ahead of them, together forever. They planned their children, two she said, he said four so they compromised on three (two girls and a boy of course); where they would live, the travelling they would do together - it was all certain, so they had thought then.