This is a short, short chapter. A 'mood drabble.' The next chapter will be along soon.
31
Sam and Jack spend the rest of Sunday, and Sunday night just making each other happy. She gives him an incredible massage, one that leaves him moaning and helplessly relaxed. He cooks grilled salmon with citrus salsa and asparagus for dinner, and she swears she'd died and gone to heaven. She reads to him some of her favorite poetry; he brings his telescope out after sunset and they look at the stars. They make love after the massage, and much later on a blanket on the grass in the dark. The water in the little lake is still warm from the sun, so they swim lazily, and lie on their backs and float. Afterwards they stretch out on the blanket and watch the moon, and listen to the night sounds all around them.
They talk quietly, but neither of them mentions the problems that they have yet to solve—it is enough to have reached a point where a future together seems not only possible, but likely. The warmth from the day lingers, and it is quite late before the air cools enough to send them inside. He shuts out the lights and takes her hand and leads her into the bedroom. They climb naked into the bed and slip warmly into one another's arms, fall asleep secure and content, and dream sweetly.
Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
—Langston Hughes
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