But let's not dwell on the sad things.
Let's linger a little longer in the sweetness of that night.
So many times I have retreated there, stowing away within those precious moments — the moments when the moon had already slipped over the horizon.
Cosima had rolled onto her side, her head resting on the crook of her elbow, her knees tucked up and pushed against my hip, and her face cast in the subtlest of shadows.
As for me, I was still on my back and unable to move.
But I looked at her.
I looked at her a long time, keeping my eyes wide open, and holding absolutely still, until finally, the features of her face came into soft focus — lit up with starshine — so beautiful and so fleeting that I was scared to blink.
"Do you think that if we started counting stars — if we started right now — that we'd be able to count them all before the sun came up?" she asked.
She ran her fingertip along the inside of my forearm, up and down, up and down, as if she were drawing me into existence.
"I don't know," I said. "But someone might notice that we were gone by then."
"You're right," she said.
We sighed because we both knew we'd have to move soon.
She ran her finger down, and when she reached my wrist, I opened my hand, and she slipped hers right against mine until our palms were pressed together and our fingers were intertwined.
I shivered. The cool sweat on my forehead and under my arms was made cooler by the evening winds; I shivered and sat up.
After we climbed back down the wall, after we brushed the dust off of our crumpled up skirts and kissed one last time in the shadows, we slipped into the house through the back door, tiptoeing down the hall and trying not to draw anyone's attention.
"Delphine? Is that you?" my mother called from the kitchen.
"Oui," I said, freezing in the dim hallway.
"Is Cosima staying the night? It's getting late."
I glanced at Cosima. She smiled with her head down and her index finger pushed against her mouth.
"Oui," I said again.
"I left some extra blankets on your bed," she said.
I could not see into the kitchen, but I heard my mother's voice approaching fast, and so I pushed Cosima behind me — her dress was a rumpled mess, and if seen, would need explaining.
"D'accord," I said just as my mother appeared in the doorway.
"You girls can share the bed, right?" she said.
"Bien?"
"Oh, unless, well, I guess you aren't kids anymore are you? Would she be more comfortable on the sofa down here?"
"Non, non," Cosima said from behind me. "I'll be fine."
"Are you sure?" my mother said. "Delphine's bed is rather small."
"It's not that small," I said.
"And she's a kicker," my mother said.
"Mother! I am not!" I said. I turned toward Cosima and reiterated, "I am not."
"I'll be fine," Cosima said.
"She'll be fine," I said.
"Alright, then," my mother said. "Sleep well."
"Oh," I said, catching my mother's attention before she turned back to the kitchen. "Can I… I mean, would it be alright if… I mean, Cosima has invited me into Strasbourg tomorrow."
My mother leaned against the doorframe, her dishrag over her shoulder and a smile on her face.
"Strasbourg? Tomorrow?"
She exaggerated every syllable, and I hated every second of it.
"Oui," I said. "If you say it's okay, I'd like to go."
"I don't see why not," she said. "What will you do there?"
"Ehm… "
"I'd like to take Delphine to the theatre," Cosima interjected.
"The theatre?"
"Yes, she said she's never been to a proper theatre before, so I invited to her join me," Cosima said.
"Well!" my mother said, and I thought I saw a spark of envy in her eyes. "I mean, the theatre!"
"I can go then?" I said.
"Let me speak to your father about it. We'll let you know in the morning."
But then she winked at me, and I knew it was all but agreed. Without thinking, I hugged her, squeezing her tight, so tight that she laughed. She hugged me, too, rubbing my back like she used to do when I was younger.
Then she pulled a leaf from my hair.
"What have you been doing out there? Rolling around in the vineyards?"
I blushed. Cosima was quiet.
Not far off, I thought.
I grabbed the leaf from her hand and tried to shrug off her curiosity.
"It's windy tonight!" I said, laughing.
"Yes, very windy," Cosima added.
And before I could think better of it, I leaned in and kissed my mother's cheek.
"Goodnight," I said.
"Goodnight," she said, pleasantly surprised by the kiss.
"Goodnight, Madame Cormier," Cosima said.
But I was ushering Cosima up the stairs before my mother could properly reply. I think I heard her mumble something under her breath as she lingered in the hallway, her eyes still on us.
When we got to my room, we fell on the bed laughing, knocking the pile of extra blankets on to the floor; my mother was right, the bed was small, almost too small for the both of us.
I hid my face in my hands.
"Merde! I'm so embarrassed!" I said.
"What? She didn't notice anything," Cosima said. "She has no reason to suspect anything."
I looked at her, propping myself up on my elbows.
"But she does… suspect something."
"You think so."
"Oui, but she just doesn't know what…"
"Hmmm," Cosima said, rolling onto her back.
"Actually," I said, "I didn't know what, either, not until this morning… not until I saw you drive by on that motorcycle with that suitcase in the sidecar."
"The suitcase!" Cosima said, sitting up. "I nearly forgot."
"Don't worry," I said. "We still have plenty of time. Besides, we should probably wait until everyone falls asleep before we go out."
She exhaled. "You're right. Of course, you're right."
She laid back.
"So what should we do until then?" she said, and I could hear the smile in her voice.
I've got a few ideas, I thought.
"Sleep?" I said.
"But if we fall asleep, how can we be sure we'll wake up? How do we know we won't sleep right until morning?"
"That's a good point," I said.
I ran my finger over the threads in the quilting. I remembered touching the same spot only days before, my heart broken at the idea of Cosima's rejection. I was struck with wonder at how quickly things had changed.
Now, here she is, I thought, in my room… in my bed.
I was suddenly grateful that I had washed every sheet in the house the morning after I met her.
"Well, first we could make the bed," I suggested.
"Good idea," she said.
We stood up. We stood side by side, looking down at the pile of blankets on the floor.
"You're welcome to sleep with me," I said, rubbing at the back of my neck. "But, you can also sleep on the floor… maybe I do kick, I'm not sure. I mean, I can't even remember the last time I shared a bed with someone."
"Hmm," she said. "Why don't we make a bed on the floor, and then if you kick me in the middle of the night, I'll have an escape plan."
"Good thinking," I said.
And we set about making her bed, silently holding opposite ends of the blankets and laying them out on the floor, instinctively choosing to lay them on the side of the bed that was furthest from the door and closest to the window.
When we finished I laid down on top of them, stretching out on my back.
"How is it?" she asked, smiling down at me.
"Awful," I said. "You should sleep in the bed. And if I kick, then I will move to the floor."
She kneeled down, leaning over me.
"Or," she said with her hands on her knees. "We can both sleep on the floor… where there's more space… and privacy."
I swallowed and smiled, and that little giggle bubbled up from my stomach.
"Come here," I whispered.
She laid down next to me, and we were completely hidden from the door.
"I've ruined your dress," I said.
She looked down at herself. "It's not ruined, just a little wrinkled. Besides, I can get a new one tomorrow."
"Get a new one?" I said.
"Well, yes," she said. "Where did you think I got all my clothes? I certainly didn't bring any with me!"
"Non, well, non," I stuttered. "I guess I never thought about it. Felix could have brought them."
"No, there is a department store just next to my hotel."
"Oh," I said.
"And we have to go shopping tomorrow anyway,"
"Shopping? Why?"
"Because we're going to the theatre!"
"You weren't serious about that."
"Sure, I was. Why not?"
"We have other things to do."
"What? Meet my contact? That will only take a few minutes."
"You're not serious… you can't be."
"I'm completely serious. We only have a little while left together…"
She reached her hand out, brushing my hair from my face.
"... let's make the most of it."
And then we kissed and kissed, and by the time we had put a few more wrinkles into our skirts, the rest of the house had grown quiet and still, and my lips had grown sore from her kisses, and my cheeks had grown tired from smiling, and my eyelids had grown heavy, and soon I found myself falling into a peaceful exhaustion.
I would have fallen asleep completely — blissfully — had it not been for the lamplight, which taunted me with reminders of another mission.
I awoke with a terrible tingling in my arm where I had laid on it, and when I sat up, the entire house was quiet save for the sound of my own joints cracking.
I looked at Cosima. She was laying on her side, curled up like a cat, her hands tucked under her chin and her cheeks red with the warmth of sleep. Her side ribs rose and fell in a slow rhythm and I knew she was completely gone.
I shouldn't wake her, I thought. How could I?
And though her mouth hung open at a dopey angle, and she snored slightly, she looked beautiful.
I stared at her face.
I'd never had the chance to just look at her, to unselfconsciously regard her, to absorb the details of her face in its unaffected state. I thought that perhaps if I stared at her long enough, then things might make more sense; I might find an answer to a question that wasn't even fully formed in my mind yet.
Why her? I thought. Why this one out of everyone?
Her irises darted back and forth beneath her eyelids; she was dreaming.
Does she dream of me? I thought.
And in my curiosity about her dreams, I caught a glimpse of my answer; I chose her because she chose me. Or, was it the other way around?
Is this attraction? I thought. Is this... love?
If it was love, it was a completely different kind of love than any love I'd ever felt.
The desire to stare at a person's face for long periods of time, I thought. Is that love? The desire to see this face over and over again, in an endless multitude of expressions and gestures, speaking an endless sequence of syllables, sighing an endless number of sighs, and whispering an endless stream of murmurs — 'Hush, hush, hush.'
I felt a tightness in my chest and a tear in the corner of my eye.
I shook it off.
I stood up and tiptoed toward the door, but no amount of tiptoeing was going to keep the floorboards from creaking.
She caught her breath and opened her eyes, confused for a moment.
"Is it time?" she asked too loudly.
"Shhh!" I said, walking to the closet. "Yes! Let's go."
I pulled out a cardigan and handed it to her.
When I opened my bedroom door, the entire house was black, very black. I stood still and listened, but all I heard was Cosima's breath behind me.
I raised a hand in the air, commanding her to wait in the doorway. And then, slowly, I made my way to Laurent's door. I pressed my ear against it and listened.
Silence.
When I was certain that he was not awake — not reading a book, or smoking a cigarette out his window — I motioned for Cosima to follow me down the stairs.
I took the lantern from the front door, promising myself to only use it if absolutely necessary. But with the sky being as moonless as it was, when we arrived at the barn and stepped inside, it was pitch black.
Against my better judgement, I lit the flame, trying to keep it as low as possible, and hoping we could move quickly and be gone before anyone might see the light.
Cosima must have felt the same, because when I looked up, she had already tossed the suitcase into the back seat and climbed up onto the wing of the plane.
"Can you bring the light?" she said.
I walked to the wing, raised the lantern up, and for the second time that night, for a second red-hot moment, I saw the white of Cosima's undergarments. I blushed and turned away.
She took the lantern, and if she noticed my sudden shock, she didn't say a word.
There are more important things to think about, Delphine! I scolded myself.
After setting the lantern in place, Cosima opened the suitcase and set it in the front seat. Then she climbed into the back seat and yanked out the back cushion, handing it down to me to hold. Then she reached into the compartment and her eyes went wide.
"Delphine?" she said.
Her voice was deep and deliberate.
"What?"
"Is this some kind of joke?"
"What? What?"
"Where's the machine?"
"Isn't it there?"
"It's not here!"
"What do you mean it's not there?! It was just there! I saw it last night!"
"Well, it's not here now!"
She pressed her palms against her forehead, and tears welled up in her eyes — tears of panic and desperation.
She scowled at me, and for a moment I was struck dumb, but then, seeing Cosima's face cast in the severe, sinister shadows of the lantern light, I knew exactly where it was.
"Merde!" I shouted. "It's Laurent!"