NOW

You say you want

Diamonds on a ring of gold

Your story to remain untold

Your love not to grow cold

All the promises we break

From the cradle to the grave

When all I want is you

"All I Want Is You"

U2

May 8, 1952

Portsmouth, New Hampshire

"It's the Sarah Mildred Long Bridge," Chuck said as Sarah slid to gaze out the passenger window at the open drawbridge on the road in front of them. The sun was brilliant overhead in a cloudless sky, matching their beatific moods.

She giggled. "As you know, my middle name is Lisa."

"Much prettier," he said, chuckling himself, though his admiration was layered in his tone.

She turned to see him gazing at her, and blushed at the intensity of his gaze. "I know I must seem like a country bumpkin, getting all excited over a drawbridge," she said sheepishly.

"Sarah, you are no such thing. You just haven't traveled." He grasped her hand, pulling it to his mouth and kissing it gently. "It's actually very sweet."

She smiled coyly at his praise. "Thank you," she replied. "But you…you've seen the Golden Gate Bridge…and the Pacific Ocean. You crossed the Mississippi…and the Rocky Mountains," she sighed. "It's so…exciting."

Her wide-eyed wonder was endearing and the joy on her face was contagious. His cheeks hurt from the perpetual smile. Never before had he heard her express longing to see the sites he had as he'd traveled back and forth between Massachusetts and California. "I didn't know you were interested in traveling."

"I don't think I realized I was…until I knew we were going today," she confessed. "But I was always so interested in the places you've seen. I used to look at them in pictures in the library at school." Her expression softened, love shining in her eyes. "I think what I wanted most was to see them all…with you."

It was true, he had seen all of those places, but in his own heart he had wished the same thing, always, that she could have been there beside him, seeing it all with him. No man-made wonder or natural miracle compared to the beauty seated beside him. He stretched out his arm, beckoning her closer. She slid eagerly towards him, snuggling into his side. "I've always wanted to see Paris, since I was little," he said.

"Because of your dad," she said softly, resting her hand over his heart.

She remembered, he thought in amazement. That had been revealed in one conversation when they were children, when he had mentioned his father's dream about taking Chuck to see the Eiffel Tower, a dream ruined when his parents had been killed.

No more ruined dreams, he thought, pushing the pain away.

Chuck felt alive, his heart dancing in his chest, with an entire world of possibilities, hopes and dreams now within his grasp. "Once the business is solid again, there's no reason why we can't do…whatever we want."

He felt her tense, not drastically, but enough that he noticed. He cursed himself for getting too excited, putting the cart before the horse, as Casey would say. He had been intentionally ignoring the ghost traveling with them, who was now making its presence felt as it wedged itself between them.

"One thing at a time, Chuck," she said, smiling genuinely; whatever unease his words had caused was tamped down again. They sat in companionable silence, watching the lights on the side of the bridge flash red and white.

"Sarah, why didn't you go to college?" he later asked, the question popping into his head, spawned by his previous thoughts about possibilities. "You're one of the smartest people I've ever known. I thought I knew why…but…now…I wonder."

Sarah was fluent in four languages by the time she was 16. She had taken French in middle school and then German in high school. That three years of preliminary French was meant as an introduction, but she had quickly excelled beyond her classmates, testing out of 12th grade level French when she was 13. Starting over again in ninth grade with German, adding an extra year because of her pleurisy, had allowed her to master German as a second foreign language. She had learned Spanish on her own, in one year, from one of Carina's neighbors who tended Roxanne's lawn. Despite that sporadic exposure and self-taught nature, she was now also fluent in Spanish.

He had always attributed her renunciation of higher education to Bryce's death in Korea…the perceived heartache Chuck thought had permeated her once she had returned from Wellesley, a few months after Chuck returned from California. That incongruity still nagged at him, now that he knew he had misinterpreted her feelings for Bryce. He trusted her, believed her when she told him she never loved Bryce. But he also knew, without a doubt, that something had nearly shattered her while she was away…something that still cast its shadow on her happiness, even here, on the way to their honeymoon.

He didn't really believe in coincidences. Whatever it was she was keeping secret, he was almost certain it not only had to do with Shaw's blackmail…but her devastation and withdrawal from life back then as well. He knew it. The implications of it all frightened him, despite his determination that the secret revealed would not break them. He felt like he had all of the pieces of the puzzle, only he didn't know how they fit together. They were all the same color, identically shaped. Impossible to solve without foreknowledge, some additional clue. He believed that Sarah would tell him in time.

She was tense again, leaning on him, but looking out the window, a far away look in her eyes. "It was…complicated. My father didn't have the money, I know that. I didn't know why, at least not at first," she said, her voice lowering. "If he owed money to the mafia, well then, that's even more reason I had no idea about at all."

It made perfect sense, a distinctly logical argument, one Chuck knew for a fact would have been true, after having examined Jack's ledger in detail. But she was diverting again, taking one reason he knew about as an explanation for something else she was keeping hidden. Time, he reminded himself. He would know in time. It took a conscious effort to not constantly cycle back to those thoughts.

"Sarah, you could still go to school," Chuck offered. "You're young. You only missed a year."

She shifted as she looked up at him. "But I'm married to you now. I can't just…run off to school," she argued. It would be an unusual situation, but not impossible.

"Worcester has ten colleges in the city, Sarah. Why couldn't you take day courses?" he countered.

"It's so much money, Chuck," she said, shaking her head. She was being deliberately contrary, he thought. There was some other reason. There had to be.

He wouldn't let her win the argument. "When we're profitable again, it won't matter. You deserve that, Sarah." He thought, but didn't say, part of what Jack had asked him to do, take care of her, included remedying some of the damage Jack had caused to her life.

Her eyes were still dark with shadows, but she relaxed against him, no longer tense. "I love you," she whispered. "I don't know what I did to deserve you," she added, resting her head on his shoulder and her hand over his heart.

He kissed the top of her head. "The answer to that is…nothing," he replied. "It's nothing that you ever did…nothing that you could ever stop doing. It's you. Who you are."

He heard her sigh, felt her breath rush out against his neck. "I already have the thing I wanted the most," she said. "The only thing that would make it better…someday…is to have a family."

He felt his heart beating, his blood pumping in his veins as her words penetrated to the center of him. The simplest of dreams…one he now knew he shared with her–the same dream, part of their life together. She had spoken of it when she was young, and then again reaffirming it in his office when he'd asked. Somewhere in between, she had given up on that dream. Because she only wanted that with me. The simple idea humbled him.

"You know I want that too, Sarah," he said gently. "But we're starting at the end, right? We're newlyweds…but our first real date was…in Leo's…with Casey and Gertrude and Morgan and Carina." He finished with a crooked smile.

She giggled at the picture he had painted with his words. "Is that what that was?" she laughed. "Our honeymoon is our first unchaperoned date?" she teased.

She was innocently teasing, he knew, but he turned lobster red at the images her words had conjured in his mind. "About…that…" He coughed, not sure how to continue.

He glanced down at her, trying to read the expression on her face. She was flushed as well, florid against the cream colored blouse she wore. Her affect wasn't only embarrassment, though. He felt her tense, then start trembling. Uneasy was the word he settled on. She remained silent.

"I'm sure Roan thinks…you know…about us," he continued, feeling the sweat trickling on his chest under his shirt. "I'm sure everyone thinks that. I mean, we just got married," he explained. "But…we're…different. I–"

"Chuck, it's ok," she said, pressing her finger over his mouth. "You're spiraling."

He chuckled nervously. "We're still…taking it slow, right?" he asked, his voice squeaking.

"Yes," she answered quickly. "Don't worry about it, Chuck. Not about that."

The whole thing was awkward. Chuck was sure there would be only one bed in the room Roan had reserved for them. The thought of sleeping next to her made him so warm he felt feverish. But he wasn't going to waste one minute of the precious little time alone he had with her. In Maine, they could just…be. Husband and wife…however that looked…and nothing else.

Motion in front of them caught Chuck's attention. The drawbridge was on its way down, a large fishing boat now visible on the Piscataqua River gently gliding by. The river was the boundary between New Hampshire and Maine. Ogunquit was the third town up the coast from the border, another 40 minutes up U.S. Route 1. The Atlantic Ocean stretched to the horizon on the right side of the highway.

The drawbridge settled back into place and they started driving again. They crossed the border into Maine. He made the conscious effort to leave everything behind, like he was tossing all of his troubles out the window onto the highway, all of it waiting to be picked up on their way back.

May 9, 1952

Ogunquit, Maine

Today was a beach day.

The ambient air was perfect, low 80s, with little humidity, and a gentle onshore breeze. The water, however, was frigid, as it always was in Maine, especially this early in the season. It was a perfect day for sunbathing, and there was barely anyone on the beach. The walkway to the beach was a steep cement staircase that led down the cliff to the sand. They could access the beach from the patio outside their room.

The Sparhawk Hotel was situated at one end of the Marginal Way, a walkway that connected Ogunquit to Perkins Cove. It ran along the top of the rocky cliffs that abutted the beach for almost a mile.

One of Sarah's purchases for her honeymoon had been the bathing suit she now wore, a bright red polka dotted one-piece. Chuck had never seen her in a swimsuit before. Of course, she hadn't seen him in his swim trunks either. Sarah had never been to the ocean, and the last time Chuck had been was when he was nine. The ocean was the only safe place left to swim. Polio, the water-born virus that had killed Sarah's mother, was now at epidemic proportions in the U.S. It had been gradually worsening each year since the late 1930s. As a consequence, neither Chuck nor Sarah had ever stepped into a body of freshwater for any reason since they had met.

They sat side by side on a soft beach blanket on the sand. They had walked the beach, hand in hand, for the better part of the morning. Sarah had collected a handful of sea shells she had found in a tidal pool, perfect clam and sea snail shells–ordinary and abundant, but fascinating to someone who had never seen anything like them before. They skipped out of the way of the waves as the foamy water rushed onto the sand, the water so cold it felt like tiny needles on his skin when he wasn't fast enough to evade them. Sarah teased him; he splashed her. Her laughter was like music, carried on the wind with the crying of distant sea gulls.

A tiny part of Chuck had been worried about the beach, knowing the last time he had been was with his parents and his sister, the weekend before his tenth birthday. Two weeks before the Hurricane of 1938.

None of those memories were painful any longer, though he hadn't directly confronted them in a long time. The joy that had always permeated those memories was no longer overshadowed by tragedy. He had found his way back to joy again…nothing could ever take that from him. Even Sarah's secret.

He sat, staring at the tide as it was slowly receding, while she leaned against him, her skin warm and soft against his as their arms touched.

"Look." Chuck heard the tiny voice, turning to see a little girl, probably five, holding a small hermit crab in her hand. She had dark brown pigtails, soft brown eyes, and a dark suntan.

"What've you got there?" Chuck asked, smiling enthusiastically at the little girl.

"A hermit crab," she said. "Look how tiny he is," she marveled, smiling widely, her perfect white teeth visible. She held out her hand to show them, the miniature crab smaller than a nickel.

Curious, Sarah leaned over to take a closer look. "Ooh, he is tiny," she exclaimed. "How did he ever find a shell so small?" Chuck saw the animation on Sarah's face, her eyes glowing.

The little girl shrugged. "He's gonna grow really fast, though. He might need a new one soon."

Sarah looked fascinated, almost as enthralled as the child, and it warmed his heart. Sarah chatted with the girl, talking about the crab and the snails and the birds at the shore. He was so fixated on watching Sarah and the girl interact, it took him a few minutes to realize the girl was by herself. There weren't any adults in sight of where they were. She was too young to be alone this close to the water.

"What's your name?" Chuck asked gently, not sure if she would answer because he was a stranger.

"Suzie," she said plainly.

"Where's your Mommy or Daddy, Suzie?" Chuck asked, catching Sarah's eyes as he asked. The understanding of the girl's situation passed between them with the look.

"My Mommy is right…" The little girl spun, pointing, but her face fell and fear shone in her eyes, her bottom lip quivering, when she realized she didn't know where to point. "Oh no," she whined, spinning frantically.

Chuck jumped up, positioning himself on his knees. "Suzie, it's ok," he said calmly. "My name is Chuck…and this is my wife, Sarah," Chuck said slowly, making sure the girl was focusing on him. "We can help you find your Mommy," he assured her. He pushed himself to his feet and then dusted off his hands before he took her tiny hand in his.

Suzie hesitantly gripped his hand, craning her neck back to take in his full height once he was standing. Her mouth stayed open in a tiny little O.

"He is really tall, right?" Sarah asked as she watched Suzie. Sarah was trying to calm the girl, take her mind off her previous panic.

"Do you play basketball?" Suzie asked with wonder, still staring at Chuck as he towered over her. Chuck looked past her, checking for her footprints still visible along the shore. They started walking back in the direction from which Suzie had approached.

"No, no," Chuck told her. "A lot of people ask me that. I'm tall…but I'm clumsy. Basketball takes a lot of coordination."

Suzie was deep in thought, probably wondering what "coordination" meant, but she stayed completely focused on Chuck. She held his hand tightly, walking close to his legs. Chuck had to stoop ever so slightly on his right side to match her height comfortably. He watched Sarah grab her other hand. The little girl's bathing suit was red, a close match to the color Sarah wore. Someone watching from a distance could have believed they were a family, that Suzie was their daughter, Chuck thought, feeling warmth spreading in his chest at the idea.

"How did you get so far from your mother?" Chuck asked, as he felt they had been walking for a while.

"I was chasing a seagull," Suzie explained. "And then I saw the water near the rocks and I started looking for crabs." Suzie sighed. "My mommy was busy with my baby brother. He cut his heel on a rock and she was going to the lifeguard for first aid."

At least that was a place to start. Chuck could see the tall white platform where the lifeguard was seated, perhaps another five minute walk from their current position.

"Sarah used to love to do that when she was little," Chuck told Suzie with a crooked grin. "Looking for animals in our backyards. Baby owls were her favorite."

Suzie turned to look at Sarah, and Chuck's gaze followed. Sarah's smile was bright, but soft, and her eyes were glistening. "They still are," she said softly. Her face was awash with tenderness, focused on Chuck.

It melted his insides, almost making his knees weak. Dear Lord, did he love her.

They had only covered half the distance to the lifeguard chair when Chuck saw a woman, dark-haired, with a toddler perched on her hip, hurrying towards them. She wore a royal blue bathing suit. She was frantically worried.

"Suzie!" the woman called.

"Mommy!" the little girl screamed, releasing Chuck's hand and rushing towards her mother. Chuck and Sarah continued walking as the woman placed her toddler down and embraced her daughter.

"Oh, thank goodness," the woman said, addressing Sarah first. "I told her to stay put, and when I came back she was gone."

"Chasing seagulls," Sarah said with a sigh.

"My name is Lorraine, and that's S–"

"Suzie," Sarah interjected. "We know." She smiled. "I'm Sarah, and this is my husband, Chuck." Sarah finished by resting her hand on his arm. It was the first time he had heard her say it out loud; it jolted him like electricity.

The child looked sufficiently contrite now that she was back in her mother's presence. "Sarah likes animals," Suzie offered, "like I do."

Lorraine smiled at her daughter, no longer upset now that the little girl was safe. "Thank you both for being so kind," Lorraine gushed, as her gaze shifted to Chuck and Sarah. "I was so worried when I couldn't find her." Lorraine smiled, lifted her son back onto her hip, took her daughter's hand, and proceeded back up the sand towards the parking lot. Suzie waved a chubby hand over her shoulder as they went. Chuck returned the wave.

Before he could lower his hand, Sarah grabbed it, folding herself against his bare chest and draping his arm over her shoulder like a shawl. He looked down at her, surprised by the pink tint to her eyes, moisture still making her eyes shine in the sunlight.

The feel of her against his skin reminded him of the night before, sleeping side by side, but only sleeping, for the first time. Taking it slow meant they were on their own time, not feeling the need to act according to anyone else's wishes or expectations before their own.

Casey had made it a point to pull Chuck aside before he and Sarah left, starting a conversation Chuck had cut short, assuring Casey his explanation when Chuck was 12 was still sufficient. Apparently, Gertrude had pulled Sarah aside at the same time, though nothing about that conversation was mentioned, and rightly so.

Chuck believed he understood Sarah's hesitancy, from their starting at the end situation, such as it was. Casey thought a refresher would have been necessary with consideration for Sarah specifically. Chuck said nothing to anyone, humoring Casey but declining any further discussion. Chuck secretly believed Sarah's desire to go slow was not because she was still a virgin…but because she wasn't.

He didn't know how to say anything close to that without sounding disrespectful. If she truly was still a virgin, he would have been surprised. The way she and Bryce had carried on…compounded with the fact that the only person she had to talk about anything like that with was Carina…well, it was sad, but it made sense. There was no nice way for a man to say to his wife "I never would have guessed you were still a virgin." At the same time, there was no way for a man to also say, "I knew there was no way you could be a virgin." He had tried rehearsing something better than that to say over and over, but eventually he gave up, telling himself whatever happened would…happen. And he would deal with it in the moment. He had enough faith in her…and in his love for her, that he knew it wouldn't matter. All that mattered was they were together.

"You're the sweetest man I know," she whispered, still in his arms, cuddling against him.

Without warning, she released him and grabbed his hand, turning back in the direction they had come from, guiding him as she walked. She stopped pulling him when they reached the edge where the waves crashed onto the beach. "Look," she said, pointing to the tiny brown and white birds that skittered back and forth on the sand. "Sandpipers," she exclaimed. "Their little legs are like a blur."

She kept her delighted gaze fixed on the tiny birds. He was looking at the woman, remembering the girl…understanding he had loved them both equally, with all his heart, at different times.

"How many kids do you want to have?" he asked, the words tumbling out without a chance for him to hesitate.

She spun quickly away from the birds, gaping at him in astonishment. She recovered quickly, with a quick burst of laughter. "As many as we can. Five," she added with a lighthearted giggle.

"Five?" he teased, feeling his heart fill.

"What made you ask me that?" she asked, taking his hand as they began walking again.

"Thinking about what you said while we were waiting for the drawbridge," he answered. "I could see it on your face just now, when you were talking to Suzie. I don't think I realized how important it was to you…until I saw that." She had been a steady volunteer at St. Ann's orphanage for over a year, but she hardly spoke of it to him. Now that motivation made more sense.

Her skin reddened until it almost matched her bathing suit. Her eyes darted away, out at the sea and the horizon. He thought he saw the shadow, a hint of sadness, but she blinked it away, her face calm again so quickly he could have convinced himself he'd imagined it if he hadn't seen it before. "Except for you, I feel like I've been alone my whole life. I'm not saying I want to have a lot of kids because I don't want to be alone; that's not what I mean. I just want to…fix it. Make it better. The only way I can. Making sure my children have a father who will be there for them, love them…take care of them."

She turned her head back, looking up at him, her eyes full. "I hope…that I can be a good mother. I feel like I don't know how to be a mother."

He pulled her into his arms. "You know how to love. That's all that matters," he whispered.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

Chuck hadn't had that much wine with their dinner, but still he felt tipsy. Could he be drunk on love? It seemed such a cliche, yet, there was no other explanation for how he felt.

After they had cleaned up after the beach, they had gone for dinner at a restaurant downtown, with a piano bar. After a delicious steak dinner, Sarah's favorite, and a large, decadent dessert they had shared with one fork, they danced along to the piano music. Chuck recognized the theme from Casablanca and held out his hand for her.

She had taught him how to dance, but he hadn't danced with her since. They started in the traditional stance, but Sarah quickly grew tired of the stiff posture and leaned into him, both arms around his neck as they swayed in time with the music. He indulged her, placing his hands firmly on her waist, not caring if it appeared inappropriate, telling himself she was his wife and this was their honeymoon. The room was dark and the dance floor was crowded.

One of Sarah's hands slid down onto his chest and she rested her head against his shoulder. She trailed her index finger back and forth across his chest, creating goosebumps on his flesh under his shirt. She leaned close to his ear to whisper to him above the music. "I used to sneak downstairs and watch you…when you would be at the dining room table with my father, working…the summers you were home. You'd take off your tie, unbutton your collar and roll up your sleeves…I could see the tension in your shoulders sometimes…wishing I could…touch you. I would lay awake at night and think of it…dream of it. You really had no idea how…attracted to you I was?" Her voice was tight and breathy, stirring the desire inside him.

Her whispering sent a shiver down his spine, the words turning his legs to rubber. His mouth was parched when he answered. "I was so blind…to all of that, Sarah. I made assumptions…and convinced myself that what I thought I saw wasn't real."

She lifted her head, softly kissing his lips as they swayed together, not even aware the music had changed. "It was real," she whispered against his lips.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

Chuck waited in the dark.

He lay under the covers, the crisp sheets cool in the air-conditioned room. The only light was the thin strip from under the bathroom door. Sarah was getting ready for bed with the door closed. The heavy drapes covering the glass door that led to their patio were completely opaque, and when Sarah shut off the bathroom light before she opened the door, he found himself in pitch blackness.

Since they left the piano bar, the air between them was charged, magical. She had clung to him as they walked, her arm firmly wrapped around his waist. Closer than holding her hand, and more intimate. Her figure, her soft curves, had been pressed against him. Once they were inside the hotel room in the dark, she had devoured him with kisses. He had lost track of time, holding her, when she finally pulled back, telling him she was going to get ready for bed, closing herself in the bathroom.

He wasn't sure what was happening, knowing Sarah had said nothing specific about her intentions. He had told her "slow"…and she had reiterated "slow." But her kisses in the dark had felt anything but…slow.

He felt the mattress shake as she climbed in beside him, instantly warmer as her body slid towards him in the darkness. She wore a similar nightgown to what she had worn last night, with spaghetti straps and covering her entire body to her ankles. This one was probably pink, he guessed in the dark, when last night's had been ivory. This bodice was sheer lace. It tickled his chest as she leaned against him.

She said nothing. Her mouth found his in the dark, the kiss deep and passionate, full of her desire. He pulled her against him, running his hands over the soft satiny surface of her nightgown, over her waist and hips. A brief pause, a quick separation, a flurry of motion, and he heard her nightgown sough as it landed on the carpet. She kissed him again, leaning against him once more, the shock of her skin against his instantly arousing. She reached for him under the covers. Slow was…relative. She was still his wife, he told himself.

"Sarah," he breathed, pulling his mouth away from hers, his breathing labored. "I have to tell you…I've…never…done this before." The heat from his embarrassment was almost indistinguishable from his desire for her, one encompassing flame that was slowly engulfing him.

He heard her gasp. She was shocked. She must have believed he had been sleeping with Jill. She jerked backward as if he had struck her. She made sounds, no full words. He thought he felt a tear drop fall onto the back of his hand. Was her bold confidence in approaching him this way because she believed he had experience?

He reached for her quickly, holding her still in his arms as she struggled limply, trying to put distance between them. "No, no, Sarah, stop. It's alright," he soothed. It was too awkward like this to explain, but her disquiet troubled him.

"I'm…I'm…not," she stuttered, explaining her reaction. She was definitely crying. He felt her hand, gentle, apologetic, on his cheek. The knowledge ran through him like wildfire. But he pushed it aside, cradling her against him.

"It doesn't matter to me," he swore, relieved as he felt her muscles relax. He pulled her closer. "You're here with me. You're my wife. That's all that matters." His emotions were haywire. He had suspected, prepared himself, but it was still a shock to the system having the proof of his worst fears in front of him. But he also meant every word. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered but her. She was everything–his universe, past, present, and future, existing simultaneously.

"I don't…I mean, I'm not sure…about…" she stammered, still embarrassed.

The thought flashed in and out of his head, so much for Bryce, but then disappeared as he refocused.

"I wanted it to be you. I only ever wanted you. I tried to tell you…but I…I didn't know how," she whispered against his cheek.

"You have me now. Forever," he whispered passionately. "I've been dreaming about you for four years…wanting you the same way, too stupid to admit it to myself." He took a deep breath. "I love you. I always have."

She stayed perfectly still, quietly thinking in the dark, where he couldn't see her face.

Monarch caterpillars…

The memory was rapid fire, in Sarah's voice, as he flashed back to when they were younger, and she showed him a caterpillar, white, black, and green striped, on the underside of a milkweed plant. Beautiful creatures, not the drab gray and brown fuzzy caterpillars that turned to moths; butterfly caterpillars were beautiful. A different kind of beautiful.

All at once he could reconcile his feelings, from the first day she had sheltered him under her blanket, until this moment as husband and wife. Inside its own chrysalis, his emotions had changed, matured, metamorphosed into an exotic, exquisite butterfly, from a colorful larva full of promise, as seen in its many vibrant colors. As his feelings had changed, time ceased to exist inside the chrysalis. And now his love had emerged, fully grown, into the world. He was finally able to show her those feelings in the way he wanted.

She reached for his hands, holding both of them, the backs of his hands flush with her palms. Gently, she rested his palms against her breasts.

Gently, he touched her, feeling her shiver. "We can teach each other," she whispered.

She laid back, pulling him with her. He stretched himself on top of her. She pulled him down, closing the gap between their bodies, like she was unable to bear any part of her not touching him.

It became one fluid motion, like submerging in a warm sea, like drowning; he was able to breathe her and only her, like she was the new life in his body, the breath in his lungs. No words were necessary–none were adequate. He navigated by feeling, listening to her breathing and the sound of her heart beating, sensing her movements, feeling her emotions.

Wave after wave crashed over them, her amazed moans of pleasure assuring him this was still a first time of sorts for her. The only words he spoke to her were a quiet whisper, telling her to let go, as he felt her subtle restraint…believing she might still carry some shame and that somehow feeling the pleasure of their coupling too deeply was proof of her supposed sinfulness, what had embarrassed and troubled her so.

"This is me," he said, out of breath, lifting himself on his hands. He knew she remembered saying those words to him before; it was how she started a conversation whenever she wanted to put him at ease.

She laughed, touching his face in the dark, releasing her last inhibition as they crested the last wave together. He collapsed beside her. He struggled to catch his breath, feeling her curl herself against his body, sweat fusing their skin together. She shuddered against him, overwhelmed, unable to release him. Pleasantly exhausted, he began to drift to sleep, still holding her. He fluttered awake briefly, feeling her reach onto the floor for her nightgown and then pull it over her head, but she returned to his arms. Sleep soon claimed them both.

A/N: Thank you to Zettel for going above and beyond to pre-read. Historical notes: I95 and the Piscataqua Bridge were not completed until 1968, so in 1952 they would have used Route 1 and the Sarah Mildred Long Drawbridge to cross into Maine. Cases of polio peaked in 1952, almost 500,000 reported in the U.S. The vaccine would become available the next year. Chuck and Sarah never having no instance of freshwater swimming at this time was common for fear of this disease. Also, the "stranger danger" phenomenon we all know was almost non-existent at that time, so the implications of finding a lost child were not so fraught with concern. While it was true that in the 1950s, only half of women were virgins when they married (a much higher percentage than one might expect,) it was still a point of contention and potential shame, especially considering Chuck was raised by Catholics. Also worth noting, having a conversation about having children before they were intimate with each other would have made sense. As crazy as it sounds, until 1965, it was illegal in Massachusetts for a doctor to prescribe birth control for a married woman. Every method available required a doctor's prescription, and a minor (under 21) required parental consent.