5. Smiles of an Autumn Night

Like the total silence that precedes an earthquake, or the highly charged air before the lightning hits, everything waited expectantly. Then Illumi felt like a man who has stood too close to an explosion. A concussive wave struck him, and he wondered if he was internally wounded. Lucia's world was imploding. Everything she saw, or knew, or felt, was rapidly drawing together, collapsing in on itself, coalescing into a tiny crystal that might be crushed if she moved.

But time did not stop, the Earth continued to turn on its axis, and that last sunbeam that had transfigured the pair winked out, abruptly casting the clearing in the soft darkness of mountain twilight.

Sound suddenly returned to Lucia's world. As if by unspoken agreement, the forest noises resumed, rustling foliage, chirping insects. She could hear her own blood rushing in her ears, her heart thudding in her chest, immeasurably louder that the soft breathing of the man above her.

The extinguishing of the light had a reviving effect on Illumi. Darkness welcomed him, releasing him from his languorous stupor. He gracefully withdrew and stood, then bent down to offer his hand. "Do you feel all right, Miss VerHoffen?"

How was she to answer that question? No, my entire world has been destroyed; can I have a new one…with you? She couldn't say that, could she? What did it mean anyway? She had to think…she needed some time…. What did she feel? What were the words?

She hadn't answered. She hadn't moved. She was looking at him and obviously breathing, but otherwise non-responsive. His night vision was exceptional, but in the fast darkening forest he couldn't see much beyond the luminous glow of her pale skin, her shining eyes, and hints of the iridescence of her clothing. "Miss VerHoffen? Lucia?"

Oh Gods! Her name! Her name in his voice! Had he ever said her name in all the years she had been coming to his house? She didn't think so. She couldn't remember. Maybe that was why she hadn't noticed, hadn't seen before that he was so…so….

He was beginning to worry that she had, after all, been injured. It was quite possible that she had received a blow to the head and was suffering from the effects of a concussion. He hadn't examined her, but she was definitely exhibiting some of the symptoms. "If you will stay here, I'll return soon with a doctor."

No. No. He was leaving, going away. She couldn't really see him now. When he had extended his hand she could tell where he was by his eclipsing of the stars above. Now he was straightening in preparation for his departure. Her time was up. She had to speak now. What could she say? She had spoken before hadn't she? What had she said? Oh, now she remembered… "Illumi."

He stopped and turned. She'd said his name. That was the second time she'd said it wasn't it? Maybe she was unhurt after all. "Yes…. Lucia?"

Oh again! He had said it again! She had his attention now and had better come up with something. "Illumi…I…. I…" What had he been talking about? A doctor? "No!" she almost shouted adamantly.

"No?"

No, now he'll think I'm rude and confusing, she winced internally. "No thank you, Illumi." She'd said his name again. She wanted to say it over and over; like the trill of a flute it was so beautiful. "I don't need a doctor. I'm fine, really." She sat up and smiled at him.

He saw her smile, shining like her eyes in the darkness and smiled slightly himself, though he knew she couldn't see it. He returned to her and proffered his hand. Looking down he noticed that in sitting up, she had drawn her dress up even higher, and now the entire long expanse of her legs was visible. He could feel his pulse and respiration rate quicken. Then she took his hand, and if he hadn't known exactly how that actually felt, he would have said an electrical charge passed between them. Maybe there was some naturally occurring static electricity? It wasn't painful in any case, just startling.

She thought she felt something too as she stood up, but couldn't have described it. His hand was warm and surprisingly soft. For some reason she had expected it to be callused like the hands of the soldiers who regularly guarded her father's home in the Capital. But then, hadn't she heard he was some kind of "specialist"? Perhaps his technique required supple, sensitive hands? This was, of course, the hand of an assassin. How many lives had been ended with this hand? The thought was both chilling and thrilling.

Reaching down with her other hand to dust off her dress, she noticed that it had bunched up and wasn't covering her legs at all anymore. She yanked it down as quickly and unobtrusively as she could, grateful for the darkness that covered her blush, as well as hid her rumpled state. What must she look like, a little girl deshabille from too vigorous play? Illumi was a man of nineteen! How childish and juvenile she must appear to him, she despaired.

"Are you sure you're all right? It wouldn't take long for me to return with help." He'd noticed the heightened color in her face, and while he thought her dress the likely cause, it didn't hurt to check and see how she felt now that she was standing.

He hadn't said her name… but he was still holding her hand! Could he feel her pulse pounding she wondered? She fervently prayed that her hand didn't feel sweaty or clammy. His felt wonderful, of course. "Oh I'm perfectly well," she said, trying to sound as mature and collected as possible. "Perhaps if you would show me the way, it has gotten dark…"

"I understand. Yes. It's this way." And with that he turned and escorted her back to the path.

He was still holding her hand.