everything.
She nestled against him and he hoped ardently that they would part and rejoin over and over, into the future. After all, they had parted before. Surely it would not be final. They would find their way back to one another as swans are said to come back each year to the same still pool.
A Country Wedding
On a cool, misty morning in early June, Billy and Grey Delielle drove into the country, toward the town of North Wigsall, where Billyâs oldest friend, Penny Stern, was going to be married from her grandmotherâs country house.
A band of fog hung over the Hudson River. Billy, who was beginning to feel damp under her hair, could see a red smudge in the hazy sky: when the sun broke through, it was going to be hot.
Grey drove, his cuffs carefully folded back. His suit jacket was hung from a hook in the back of the carâit was the suit he had worn to his own wedding eight years ago. Next to him, Billy sat poised as if encased in eggshells. She was not much of a dresser; her lack of interest in personal adornment was well documented among her friends. The bride-to-be had taken Billy in hand and the result was the blue-and-white-striped linen dress in which Billy felt imprisoned. Afraid to move or blink or sweat, she feared that the mere act of sitting in the car was wrinkling her in the back. She felt like a child trapped in a party dress, a feeling she could remember exactly. She slipped off her shoes and propped her feet on the dashboard, as she was sure a seat belt would ruin the front of her dress.
Grey was more used to being dressed than Billy, but he did not like it any more than she did. His closet was half full of sober-looking suits. The other half was full of walking shorts, hiking boots, old blue jeans, and waders for the trout season. He had been Billyâs guide to nature, which she had previously experienced mostly through books. As a child she had read endlessly about bats, birds and frogs, and the life of swamps, but her parents were entirely urban, and no one had taken her into the outdoors until she met Grey. Together they had hiked, trekked, climbed, explored swamps, gone for owl walks, and kept life lists of birds. When the trout season opened Billy was perfectly happy to sit on a bank swatting midges and reading while Grey stood up to his hips in cold water. On their honeymoon they had gone to Dorset to search for fossils.
Billy, Grey, and Penny Stern had all grown up together in London, the children of American parents who had sent them to a slightly progressive, coeducational day school in Westminster. Billy had known Grey most of her life. He was three years her senior, and she could remember herself as a rather messy ten-year-old girl watching the thirteen-year-old Grey on the football field, or staring at him through the window of the science room. He was a very brainy and popular boy who played baseball in Hyde Park with his American friends. When she looked at him now, she could see the boy he had been, and she could not remember a time when she had not loved him.
After college they both came back to London where they finally re-met, at a party. The moment she saw him, Billy knew that she had found what she was looking for. It was not love at first sight. It had been love all these years. âWe were imprinted on each other early, like ducks,â Grey said. âThey always love the first person close to them.â
She remembered with perfect clarity how he looked: standing in a corner with an empty glass in his hand, his sleeves rolled up, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose, looking abstracted and slightly puzzled in the middle of a hot, noisy party. At the sight of him she felt her vision clarify, as if she had been living in a kind of half light. Suddenly everything seemed clear as if under a wide blue sky. Her destiny was plain before her: things made sense. She had never felt this way before, and she knew that if she didnât marry Grey she probably
She nestled against him and he hoped ardently that they would part and rejoin over and over, into the future. After all, they had parted before. Surely it would not be final. They would find their way back to one another as swans are said to come back each year to the same still pool.
A Country Wedding
On a cool, misty morning in early June, Billy and Grey Delielle drove into the country, toward the town of North Wigsall, where Billyâs oldest friend, Penny Stern, was going to be married from her grandmotherâs country house.
A band of fog hung over the Hudson River. Billy, who was beginning to feel damp under her hair, could see a red smudge in the hazy sky: when the sun broke through, it was going to be hot.
Grey drove, his cuffs carefully folded back. His suit jacket was hung from a hook in the back of the carâit was the suit he had worn to his own wedding eight years ago. Next to him, Billy sat poised as if encased in eggshells. She was not much of a dresser; her lack of interest in personal adornment was well documented among her friends. The bride-to-be had taken Billy in hand and the result was the blue-and-white-striped linen dress in which Billy felt imprisoned. Afraid to move or blink or sweat, she feared that the mere act of sitting in the car was wrinkling her in the back. She felt like a child trapped in a party dress, a feeling she could remember exactly. She slipped off her shoes and propped her feet on the dashboard, as she was sure a seat belt would ruin the front of her dress.
Grey was more used to being dressed than Billy, but he did not like it any more than she did. His closet was half full of sober-looking suits. The other half was full of walking shorts, hiking boots, old blue jeans, and waders for the trout season. He had been Billyâs guide to nature, which she had previously experienced mostly through books. As a child she had read endlessly about bats, birds and frogs, and the life of swamps, but her parents were entirely urban, and no one had taken her into the outdoors until she met Grey. Together they had hiked, trekked, climbed, explored swamps, gone for owl walks, and kept life lists of birds. When the trout season opened Billy was perfectly happy to sit on a bank swatting midges and reading while Grey stood up to his hips in cold water. On their honeymoon they had gone to Dorset to search for fossils.
Billy, Grey, and Penny Stern had all grown up together in London, the children of American parents who had sent them to a slightly progressive, coeducational day school in Westminster. Billy had known Grey most of her life. He was three years her senior, and she could remember herself as a rather messy ten-year-old girl watching the thirteen-year-old Grey on the football field, or staring at him through the window of the science room. He was a very brainy and popular boy who played baseball in Hyde Park with his American friends. When she looked at him now, she could see the boy he had been, and she could not remember a time when she had not loved him.
After college they both came back to London where they finally re-met, at a party. The moment she saw him, Billy knew that she had found what she was looking for. It was not love at first sight. It had been love all these years. âWe were imprinted on each other early, like ducks,â Grey said. âThey always love the first person close to them.â
She remembered with perfect clarity how he looked: standing in a corner with an empty glass in his hand, his sleeves rolled up, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose, looking abstracted and slightly puzzled in the middle of a hot, noisy party. At the sight of him she felt her vision clarify, as if she had been living in a kind of half light. Suddenly everything seemed clear as if under a wide blue sky. Her destiny was plain before her: things made sense. She had never felt this way before, and she knew that if she didnât marry Grey she probably
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