“Mary,” I said in a cracked voice. I couldn’t raise my eyes from her foot, small and rounded as it moved in and out from underneath her skirt causing the fabric to rise and fall like the tides. She didn’t respond and we stood there for a few moments my face growing hotter and hotter. Someone sniggered as they passed through the courtyard, but I didn’t look up in time to catch the offender. When I did look up Mary’s blush had grown and with it her beauty. My head grew light and flew above my body as my vision began undulating and all sound was caught up in the beating of my heart. My lips felt numb, my tongue thick and my throat parched.
I remembered a giggle that my mother had uttered covering her mouth as if she were a little girl. An older man, a silver fox my mother had called him, had elicited the magical sound with a single line and it fell from my mouth and hung in the air torturing me with its suspense.
“You look lovely.”
She looked up at me and smiled, her wet lips parting slightly to allow her white teeth to shine in the night lighting up her face. “Thank you very much,” she said her voice breathless. My heart raced and I resisted the sudden urge to throw my arms around her. Her eyes were luminous pale blue orbs that drew me into their swirls of green and sprinkles of auburn.
“Here, these are for you,” she said and shoved the clothing into my arms warm from being held close to her body. I scrambled to keep it from falling to the ground and my hand traced her arm, smooth and delicate. The world collapsed into that point of contact and then it was broken leaving me stunned as if I would fall into her arms. I could smell her on the clothing and in the air a sweet musky scent mingled with the remnants of smoke and cooking. I cradled the bundle in one arm and pulled a sweater from it with the other.
Her voice grew more confident but was still airy. “They were my brother’s.” She lapsed into another place momentarily and sadness passed across her face. “He died two winters ago. I kept them though; they’re too nice to be wasted. I imagine that you’re cold in that.” She looked distastefully at my windbreaker as she wrinkled it between two fingers thrilling me with the closeness of her touch.
“I am,” I admitted.
“It’s only going to get colder and I hope that you’ll stay,” she said clutching her skirts.
“I think so.” I responded unsure of what I should say, but she seemed to hear what she wanted, and she beamed at me. I beamed back.
Our bodies were drawing us together but then she said, “I hope they fit you, I let out the pants’ leg and drew in the waist somewhat.” I held the pants at my waist and let the legs drape across mine. “That should work,” she said. Then looked up at me and then at the farmhouse. “I have to go help clean up,” she said. She rushed up to me as quickly as a vampire her skirts swishing as she moved and then her lips soft and warm grazed my cheek and just as quickly she mounted the stairs and left me standing there clutching homespun clothing and watching my hot breath fade away into the night.
A bright world lit up in the green light of the moon and the twinkles of the stars ushered me back to the small shack where I slept. The camp was for the most part asleep, with several cabins emitting loud snores as I passed them. The dogs never seemed to sleep. Their barks and howls would die down for several moments only to emerge again elsewhere. A rat ran along the shadows of the walls, but nothing could damper my spirits. I felt as if I was living in a fairy tale or a utopia. I stifled the urge to whistle as I walked. When I reached my shack it was all I could do not to rouse my bunkmate to share my exuberance, but instead I slipped my shoes off and undressed, my windbreaker rustling like a snake slithering through leaves. I tossed the clothing carelessly in a pile at the foot of my bed and shivering in the light-splintered darkness of the shack as the outside air blew against my skin I inhaled deeply of the clothes that Mary had brought me, imagining her face. Some unknown scent in the cloth felt so feminine I wondered if she’d washed them with flowers. Then I slipped them on. The cloth was rough against my skin and itchy, but I soon warmed, and I felt as if I was tucked away in Mary’s embrace. I got into bed pulling the blankets up to my chin and basked in the warmth as I recalled the silkiness of her kiss and the smoothness of her skin as my hand had grazed her arm.
I could not sleep, and I did not want to sleep. The night moved on and I had slipped into a
