his head. “Look, it’s snowing again.”
“So it is. Let’s go out.” She pulled him up to his feet, led him to the door and handed him his jacket. “Just for a few minutes.”
He followed her out into the front yard and watched her profile as she stared up into the sky. “Listen,” she whispered reverently.
He closed his eyes. There was no sound of life around them — no birds, no insects — only the tiny whisper of snowflakes falling on the blanket of snow, and gentle breezes rising and falling among the trees. When he felt her warmth on his front, he opened his eyes. She looked up at him, her eyes as bright as the stars, twinkling in the light that streamed from inside the house.
She brought her hand up and stroked his lightly stubbled jaw. “I love this place. I’ve always loved it, but when you’re here, it’s even more wonderful.”
He drew her into his arms. “I can’t think of anywhere in the world I’d rather be tonight.”
She grinned. “So you like playing house with me?”
“Most definitely.”
Her grin faded into a soft, awed look of adoration. “I love you.”
“And I love you too, always.” He kissed her for what seemed like the hundredth time in the last twenty-four hours. His lips were getting chapped. “But now I’m freezing, so let’s go sit in front of the fire, and I’m going to show you a wonderful game that I’ve never played but heard great things about.”
“Oh? And what is this game?”
“It’s very high-brow,” he teased. “It’s called Strip Chess.”
She giggled. “I’m not very good at chess.”
“I was hoping as much.”
She sashayed across the porch to the door. “I’d better keep all my winter wear on then.”
“Oh no, that’s cheating,” he laughed, following her inside.
* * *
Hours later, James lay still in the darkness, listening to the soft sounds of Laurel breathing while she slept. She snuggled up against him, one arm and leg draped across his body. He trailed his fingers down her arm and stared up at the ceiling, just barely making out the contours of the room. It was so dark here at night. He’d forgotten, or maybe he’d never known true dark. At home and at school, there were always streetlights, headlights, porch lights. Even at the marina, bulbs strung from overhead wires were on all night, and the other boats glowed from within. This dark, true dark, was observed not only with the eyes, but with the ears as well. It was so different from what he was used to, where there was always a noise, an ambulance, the hum of a furnace. True dark wasn’t menacing the way he had imagined it might be. Instead, it was rather . . . peaceful, isolating — not scary exactly but awe-inspiring in the sense that it gave him an unmistakable reminder of his insignificance in the greater scheme of things. It led James’s thoughts to travel inward — or perhaps the quiet dark had just allowed them to float upward and outward so he could examine them. The absence of distractions turned his mind back to the decisions looming in the not-so-distant future.
Laurel stirred and lifted her head. “Are you still awake?”
“Just thinking,” he replied. “Go back to sleep.”
“What are you thinking?”
“It’s nothing, sweetheart.”
“Tell me,” she murmured, stifling a yawn.
He sighed and waited a long minute, to see if she would drift back off. When she didn’t, he spoke. “I’m just wondering what I’m going to do next month. I spent half the drive down here railing against my parents. The usual angry stuff: How could they be so selfish? Didn’t they at least owe me a college education? After all, they had promised me that from the time I could understand what college was. It’s what parents do — what all my friends’ parents do. And then I started to think, and being here with you has kept me thinking.”
“About what?”
“Well, you’re doing college on your own. Your parents give you very little financial
“So it is. Let’s go out.” She pulled him up to his feet, led him to the door and handed him his jacket. “Just for a few minutes.”
He followed her out into the front yard and watched her profile as she stared up into the sky. “Listen,” she whispered reverently.
He closed his eyes. There was no sound of life around them — no birds, no insects — only the tiny whisper of snowflakes falling on the blanket of snow, and gentle breezes rising and falling among the trees. When he felt her warmth on his front, he opened his eyes. She looked up at him, her eyes as bright as the stars, twinkling in the light that streamed from inside the house.
She brought her hand up and stroked his lightly stubbled jaw. “I love this place. I’ve always loved it, but when you’re here, it’s even more wonderful.”
He drew her into his arms. “I can’t think of anywhere in the world I’d rather be tonight.”
She grinned. “So you like playing house with me?”
“Most definitely.”
Her grin faded into a soft, awed look of adoration. “I love you.”
“And I love you too, always.” He kissed her for what seemed like the hundredth time in the last twenty-four hours. His lips were getting chapped. “But now I’m freezing, so let’s go sit in front of the fire, and I’m going to show you a wonderful game that I’ve never played but heard great things about.”
“Oh? And what is this game?”
“It’s very high-brow,” he teased. “It’s called Strip Chess.”
She giggled. “I’m not very good at chess.”
“I was hoping as much.”
She sashayed across the porch to the door. “I’d better keep all my winter wear on then.”
“Oh no, that’s cheating,” he laughed, following her inside.
* * *
Hours later, James lay still in the darkness, listening to the soft sounds of Laurel breathing while she slept. She snuggled up against him, one arm and leg draped across his body. He trailed his fingers down her arm and stared up at the ceiling, just barely making out the contours of the room. It was so dark here at night. He’d forgotten, or maybe he’d never known true dark. At home and at school, there were always streetlights, headlights, porch lights. Even at the marina, bulbs strung from overhead wires were on all night, and the other boats glowed from within. This dark, true dark, was observed not only with the eyes, but with the ears as well. It was so different from what he was used to, where there was always a noise, an ambulance, the hum of a furnace. True dark wasn’t menacing the way he had imagined it might be. Instead, it was rather . . . peaceful, isolating — not scary exactly but awe-inspiring in the sense that it gave him an unmistakable reminder of his insignificance in the greater scheme of things. It led James’s thoughts to travel inward — or perhaps the quiet dark had just allowed them to float upward and outward so he could examine them. The absence of distractions turned his mind back to the decisions looming in the not-so-distant future.
Laurel stirred and lifted her head. “Are you still awake?”
“Just thinking,” he replied. “Go back to sleep.”
“What are you thinking?”
“It’s nothing, sweetheart.”
“Tell me,” she murmured, stifling a yawn.
He sighed and waited a long minute, to see if she would drift back off. When she didn’t, he spoke. “I’m just wondering what I’m going to do next month. I spent half the drive down here railing against my parents. The usual angry stuff: How could they be so selfish? Didn’t they at least owe me a college education? After all, they had promised me that from the time I could understand what college was. It’s what parents do — what all my friends’ parents do. And then I started to think, and being here with you has kept me thinking.”
“About what?”
“Well, you’re doing college on your own. Your parents give you very little financial
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