Memories of Gold by Ali Olson

towards him, and kissed her again, this time soft and lingering. It quickly turned into a more passionate, hungry kiss as their desires reawakened, but Maria pulled away from him before they could get carried away once again. She touched his face and said softly, “I must go, Jimmy. I will see you again soon.”
    And then she was gone. He could hear her feminine boots on the stairs, then the front door opened and closed, and he sat down on the bed. Did she regret what they had done?
    She had seemed so happy as they lay there together. What changed?
    Jimmy went through all the events that had occurred since that morning, his gut twisting with anxiety even while he felt flutters of happiness as he pictured her expressions, the mad dash to his room, how she had stubbornly refused to go back downstairs—he smiled slightly, thinking of her independent streak as a child and how it had not been lost in the passing years—and the passionate touch of her lips against his. He could still feel his body yearning for her, and he longed to take her into his arms again, but she was gone.
    She had not explained her odd behavior and what was wrong, but it no longer seemed to matter. He loved her, and that was enough.
    He never told her that. Jimmy slumped back onto the bed, astonished. When he said he would marry her, it sounded like he meant it as a quick solution to their irresponsible behavior or some such—not as a pledge of love. What had he been thinking? He berated himself for his idiocy.
    And now she was gone, and he had no idea when he would next see her, he realized. They had never talked about another time they would meet. She had never told him where she lived. If he knew, he could go there to try to solve these puzzles, but for the moment, he had nothing.
    He was expected to check in with the bank before closing and be there all day tomorrow, and now he had to search for Maria and explain what he had meant. God help him, he was going to marry that girl.
    Jimmy tried to think through how this change would affect his employment—a wife would be a good thing for a man with his ambitions, after all, and could affect his work in the company positively, even if it meant he needed to stay in Shasta longer than he’d planned—but it was oddly difficult to focus his mind on it. For someone who had been constantly focused on plans for the future only a few days ago, this was more than a little strange. There were simply more important things to consider now.
    He leaned back, letting his head fall against the wall behind his bed, and he sat there, wondering where he might find her, as the house began to fill back up with people.
    He would go immediately to the bank, he decided, and give himself a few hours off the next day to search for her. He could spend the evening thinking of places she might live or work so he could avoid wandering aimlessly around town. It was smaller than San Francisco, to be sure, but there were still dozens of places she could be, and he was sure enough had changed in the past ten years to make this no easy task.
     
    Mary stormed through the streets, staying off the main thoroughfare to avoid anyone that might notice her unkempt hair or red and distorted face. She didn’t know if she was more angry or guilt-ridden. She had to tell him about her work, about what she had done to survive the previous year. She had resolved to do it, had promised herself, and yet she had ignored all of that the moment she saw him again.
    She loved him more than she had realized, and her dishonesty tore at her. Her stomach lurched as she remembered the sweetness of his gaze as he told her that he would speak to the preacher. He wished to protect her and keep her reputation sound, but what would he do when he found out that her reputation was already nothing? Would he leave?
    She could not bear the thought of losing him. She had just found him again, after all those years. Her heart was finally whole, and she had no desire to