Chapter 9: Alpenglow
Percy Bysshe Shelley, "Indian Serenade":
I arise from dreams of thee
In the first sweet sleep of night,
When the winds are breathing low,
And the stars are shining bright:
I arise from dreams of thee,
And a spirit in my feet
Hath lead me—who knows how?
To thy chamber window, Sweet!
The wandering airs they faint
On the dark, the silent stream—
The Champak odors fail
Like sweet thoughts in a dream;
The nightingale's complaint,
It dies upon her heart;—
As I must on thine,
Oh, beloved as though art!
Oh lift me from the grass!
I die! I faint! I fail!
Let thy love in kisses rain
On my lips and eyelids pale.
My cheek is cold and white, alas!
My heart beats loud and fast;—
Oh! press it to thine own again,
Where it will break at last.
Peter stared in amazement as a human form bubbled up toward the moonlit ripples at the lake's surface. He knew it was her even before her face broke the surface.
"Olivia!" he gasped.
Running to the edge of the dock, he reached for her. Ignoring the freezing water, he grasped her outstretched hands and pulled her into his arms. He felt the brush of her cold, wet lips for a second.
He held her tightly against him. Olivia: his Olivia. All he could think was that she was here. He didn't think about how it was possible, or what would happen next.
She buried her face against his neck and began to shiver. There was so much she wanted to say to him, but all she could articulate was his name. "Peter."
"Come on," he breathed. "Let's get you out of here."
He took off his coat and wrapped it around her. He would have gladly died that moment to keep her warm. With his arms around her he led her toward the SUV at the side of the road.
Olivia was in a daze from the drugs and the shock. All she wanted and all she could think was to hold Peter and never let go. She leaned against him, unable to walk on her own.
They were about halfway between the lake and the SUV when they heard the sirens.
Two police cars and an unmarked van sped up the snowy road. They came to a stop between them and the SUV.
Olivia stiffened. Peter gave her a squeeze. "It's okay," he said reassuringly. "They're here for me."
Someone got out of the van and trained a glaring flashlight on them. It illuminated Peter's face for a moment, then darted to Olivia's face, and lingered there.
"I need to get her out of the cold. She's freezing," Peter explained loud enough for the shadowed figure to hear. "She came for me."
The person holding the flashlight didn't respond for a moment, then opened the back door of the van. "Get in."
Olivia recognized the voice immediately: it was her own.