OAH WAS sitting in his rocker, drinking sweet tea, listening for the car, when he finally heard it turn up the drive. He went around to the front and watched the car pull up and park beneath the oak tree again. Same spot as yesterday. Clem harked a greeting at her car door, tail wagging, and Noah saw Allie wave from inside the car.

She stepped out, patted Clem on the head, then turned, smiling. It was different today, though. Newer feelings now, not simply memories any more. If anything, his attraction for her had grown stronger overnight, and it made him feel a little nervous in her presence.

Allie met him halfway, carrying a small bag. She surprised him by kissing him gently on the cheek, her free hand lingering at his waist after she pulled back.

“Hi,” she said, radiance in her eyes, “where’s the surprise?” He relaxed a little, thanking God for that. “Not even a ‘good afternoon’ or ‘how was your night?’”

She smiled. Patience had never been one of her strongest attributes.

“Fine. Good afternoon. How was your night? And where’s the surprise?”

He chuckled lightly, then paused. “Allie, I’ve got some bad news. I was going to take you someplace, but with those clouds coming in I’m not sure we should go.”

“Its not raining yet How far is it?”

“Up the creek about a mile.”

“And I’ve never been there before?”

“Not when it was like this.”

She thought for a second while she looked around. When she spoke, her voice was determined. “Then we’ll go. I don’t care if it rains.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

He looked at the clouds again, noting their approach. “Then we’d better go now,” he said. “Can I bring that in for you?’

She nodded, handing her bag to him, and he jogged to the house and took it inside, placing it on a chair in the living room. Then he grabbed some bread and put it in a bag, bringing it with him as he left the house.

They walked to the canoe, Allie beside him. A little closer than yesterday.

“What exactly is this place?”

“You’ll see.”

“You’re not even going to give me a hint?”

“Well,” he said, “do you remember when we took the canoe out and watched the sun come up?”

“I thought about it this morning. I remember it made me cry?’

“What you’re going to sec today makes what you saw then seem ordinary?

“I guess I should feel special.”

He took a few steps before responding. “You are special,” he finally said, and the way he said it made her wonder if he wanted to add something else. But he didn’t, and Allie smiled a little before glancing away. As she did, she felt the wind in her face and noticed it had picked up since the morning.

They reached the jetty and, after tossing the bag in the canoe, Noah quickly checked to make sure he hadn’t missed anything, then slid the canoe to the water.

Can I do anything?”

“No, just get in.”

After she climbed in, he pushed the canoe further into the water. Then he gracefully stepped off the jetty into the canoe, placing his feet carefully to prevent it from capsizing. Allie was impressed by his agility, knowing that what he had done so quickly and easily was harder than it looked.

She sat at the front of the canoe, facing backwards. Noah had said something about missing the view when he started to paddle, but she’d shaken her head, saying she was fine the way she was.

And it was true. She could see everything she really wanted to see if she turned her head, but most of all she wanted to watch Noah. It was him she’d come to see, not the creek. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top, and she could see his chest muscles flex with every stroke. His sleeves were rolled up too, and she could see the well-developed muscles in his arms.

Artistic, she thought. There’s something almost artistic about him. Something natural, as if being on the water were beyond his control, part of a gene passed on to him from some obscure hereditary pool.

She couldn’t think of anyone else who remotely resembled him. He was complicated, almost contradictory in so many ways, yet simple, a strangely erotic combination. On the surface he was a country boy, home from war, and he probably saw himself in those terms. Yet there was so much more to him. Perhaps it was the poetry that made him different, or perhaps it was the values his father had instilled in him, growing up. Either way, he seemed to savour life more fully than others appeared to, and that was what had first attracted her to him.

“What arc you thinking?”

She felt her insides jump just a hit as Noah’s voice brought her back to the present. She realized she hadn’t said much since they’d started, and she appreciated the silence he had allowed her. He’d always been considerate like that.

“Good things,” she answered quietly, and she saw in his eyes that he knew she was thinking about him. She liked the fact that he knew it, and she hoped he had been thinking about her as well.

She understood then that something was stirring within her, as it had so many years ago. Watching his body move made her feel it. And as their eyes met for a second, she felt the heat in her neck and breasts, and she flushed, turning away before he noticed.

“How much further?” she asked.

“Another half-mile or so. Not any more than that.”

A pause. Then she said: “Tell me, Noah, what do you remember most from the summer we spent together?”

“All of it.”

“Anything in particular?”

“No,” he said.

“You don’t remember?”

He answered quietly. “No, it’s not that. It’s not what you’re thinking. I was serious when I said ‘all of it.’ I can remember every moment we were together, and in each of them there was something wonderful. I can’t pick any one time that meant more than any other. The entire summer was perfect, the kind of summer everyone should have. How could I pick one moment over another?

“Poets often describe love as an emotion that we can’t control, one that overwhelms logic and common sense. That’s what it was like for me. I didn’t plan on falling in love with you, and I doubt if you planned on falling in love with me. But once we met, it was clear that neither of us could control what was happening to us. We fell in love, despite our differences, and once we did, something rare and beautiful was created. For me, love like that has happened only once, and that’s why every minute we spent together has been seared in my memory. I’ll never forget a single moment of it.”

Allie stared at him. No one had ever said anything like that to her before. Ever. She didn’t know what to say and stayed silent, her face hot.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable, Allie. I didn’t mean to. But that summer has stayed with me and probably always will. I know it can’t be the same between us, but that doesn’t change the way I felt about you then.”

“It didn’t make me uncomfortable. Noah ... It’s just that I don’t ever hear things like that. What you said was beautiful. It takes a poet to talk the way you do. and like I said, you’re the only poet I’ve ever met.”

Peaceful silence descended on them. An osprey cried somewhere in the distance. The paddle moved rhythmically, causing ripples that rocked the boat ever so slightly. The breeze had stopped, and the clouds grew blacker as the canoe moved onwards.

Allie noticed it all, every sound, every thought. Her senses had come alive, invigorating her, and she felt strangely satisfied that she’d come, pleased that Noah had turned into the type of man she’d thought he would, pleased that she would live for ever with that knowledge. She had seen too many men in the past few years destroyed by war, or time, or even money. It took strength to hold on to inner passion, and Noah had done that.

This was a worker’s world, not a poet’s, and people would have a hard time understanding Noah. Who did she know in Raleigh who took time off to fix a house? Or read Whitman or Eliot? Or hunt at dawn from the bow of a canoe? These weren’t the things that drove society, but she felt they made living worth while.

To her it was the same with art, though she had realized it only upon coming here. Or rather, remembered it. She had known it once before, and again she cursed herself for forgetting something as important as creating beauty. Painting was what she was meant to do, she was sure of that now. She was going to give it another shot, no matter what anyone said.

Would Lon encourage her painting? She remembered showing him one of her paintings a couple of months after they had first started going out. It was abstract, meant to inspire thought. Lon had stared at it, and then had asked her what it was supposed to he,

She knew she wasn’t being completely fair. She loved Lou, and always had, for other reasons. Lon was a good man, the kind of man she’d always known she would marry. With him there would be no surprises, and ‘there was comfort in knowing what the future would bring. He would be a kind husband and she would be a good wife. She would have a home near friends and family, children, a respectable place in society. It was the kind of life she’d always expected to live. And though she wouldn’t describe theirs as a passionate relationship, she had convinced herself long ago that this wasn’t necessary for fulfilment. Passion would fade in time and things like companionship and compatibility would take its place. She and Lon had this, and she had assumed this was all she needed.

But now, as she watched Noah rowing, she questioned this assumption. He exuded sexuality in everything he did, everything he was, and she caught herself thinking about him in a way that an engaged woman shouldn’t. She tried not to stare, but the easy way he moved his body made it hard to keep her eyes from him for long.

“Here we are,” Noah said as he guided the canoe towards some trees near the bank.

Allie looked around, not seeing anything. “Where is it?”

“Here,” he said again, pointing the canoe at a fallen tree that was almost completely obscuring an opening.

He guided the canoe around the tree, and both of them had to lower their heads to keep from bumping them.

“Close your eyes,” he whispered, and Allie did, bringing her hands to her face. She felt the movement of the canoe as he propelled it forwards, away from the pull of the creek.

“Okay.” he finally said after he’d stopped paddling. “You can open them now.”

THEY SAT in the middle of a small lake fed by the waters of Brices Creek. It wasn’t large, maybe a hundred yards across, and she was surprised at how invisible it had been just moments before.

It was spectacular. Tundra swan and Canada geese literally surrounded them. Thousands of them. Birds floating so close together in some places that she couldn’t see the water. From a distance, the groups of swans looked almost like icebergs.

“Oh. Noah,” she finally said softly, “it’s beautiful.”

They sat in silence for a long while, watching the birds. Noah pointed out a group of chicks, recently hatched, following a pack of geese near the shore, struggling to keep up.

The air was filled with honking and chirping as Noah moved the canoe through the water. The birds ignored them for the most part. The only ones that seemed bothered were those forced to move when the canoe approached them. Allie reached out to touch the closest ones and felt their feathers ruffling under her fingers.

Noah took out the bread he’d brought in his bag and handed it to Allie. She scattered it, favouring the little ones, laughing and smiling as they swam in circles looking for food.

They stayed until thunder boomed in the distance—faint hut powerful—and both of them knew it was time to leave.

Noah paddled the canoe hack to the main creek. She was still amazed by what she had seen.

“Noah, what are they doing here?”

“I don’t know. I know the swans from up north migrate to Lake Matamuskeet every winter, hut I guess they came here this time. I don’t know why. Maybe the early blizzard had something to do with it. Maybe they got off track or something. They’ll find their way back, though. They’re driven by instinct, and this isn’t their place. Some of the geese may winter here, hut the swans will go back to Matamuskeet.”

Noah paddled hard as dark clouds rolled directly overhead. Soon rain began to fall, a light sprinkle at first, then gradually harder. Lightning . . . a pause . . . then thunder again. A little louder now. Maybe six or seven miles away. More rain as Noah began to paddle even harder, his muscles tightening with every stroke.

Thicker drops now, falling hard. Noah rowing... getting wet… cursing to himself ... losing to Mother Nature.

Allie watched the rain fall diagonally from the sky as it rode on westerly winds that whistled over the trees. The sky darkened a little more. She leaned her head back for a moment to let it hit her face. She ran her hands through her hair, feeling its wetness. It felt wonderful, she felt wonderful. Even through the rain she could hear him breathing hard, and the sound aroused her sexually in a way she hadn’t felt in years.

A cloud burst directly above them and the rain began to come down harder than she’d ever seen it. Allie looked upwards and laughed, giving up any attempt at keeping dry, making Noah feel better. Even though she’d made the decision to come, he doubted that she’d expected to be caught in a storm like this.

They reached the dock a couple of minutes later, and Noah moved in close enough for Allie to step out. He helped her up, then got out himself and dragged the canoe up the bank, tying it to the jetty.

As he was tying the canoe, he looked up at Allie and stopped breathing for just a second. She was incredibly beautiful as she waited, watching him. She didn’t try to keep dry or hide herself, and he could see the outline of her breasts as they pressed through the fabric of the dress that clung tightly to her body. He quickly turned away, embarrassed. When he finished and stood, Allie took his hands in hers, surprising him. Despite the downpour, they didn’t rush towards the house, and Noah imagined what it would be like to spend the night with her.

Allie felt the warmth in his hands and wondered what it would be like to have them touch her body, lingering slowly across her skin. Just thinking about it made her take a deep breath. She realized then that something had changed. And although she couldn’t pinpoint the exact time—yesterday after dinner, or this afternoon in the canoe, or when they saw the swans, or maybe even now as they walked holding hands—she knew that she had fallen in love with Noah Taylor Calhoun again, and that maybe, just maybe, she had never stopped.

THERE WAS no uneasiness between them as they reached the door and went inside, pausing in the hall, clothes dripping.

‘I think I can find something here for you so you can get out of those clothes. It might be a little big, but it’s warm.”

“Anything,” she said.

“I’ll be back in a second.”

Noah slipped off his boots, then ran up the stairs, descending a minute later. He had a pair of cotton trousers and a long-sleeved shin under one arm and some jeans with a blue shirt in the other.

“Here,’ he said, handing her the cotton trousers and shirt. “You can change in the bedroom upstairs. There’s a bathroom and towel up there too if you want to shower.”

She thanked him with a smile and went upstairs, feeling his eyes on her as she walked. She entered the bedroom and closed the door, then set the trousers and shirt on his bed and peeled everything off. Naked, she went to his closet and found a hanger, put her dress, bra and panties on it, and then went to hang it in the bathroom so it wouldn’t drip on the hardwood floor. She felt a secret thrill at being naked in the same room he slept in.

She didn’t want to shower after being in the rain. She liked the soft feeling on her skin. She slipped on his clothes before looking at herself in the mirror. The trousers were big, but tucking in the shin helped, and she rolled up the bottoms just a little so they wouldn’t drag. The neck was torn a little, but she liked the way it looked on her anyway. She pulled the sleeves up almost to the elbows, went to the chest of drawers and slipped on some socks, then went to the bathroom to find a hairbrush.

She brushed her wet hair just enough to get out the tangles, letting it rest on her shoulders. Looking in the mirror, she wished she had brought a clasp or a couple of hairpins. And a little more mascara. Her eyes still had a little of what she’d put on earlier, and she touched up with a flannel, doing the best she could.

When she was finished, she checked herself in the mirror, feeling pretty despite everything, and went back downstairs.

Noah was in the living room squatting before a fire, doing his best to coax it to life. He didn’t see her come in, and she watched him as he worked. He had changed his clothes as well and looked good: his shoulders broad, wet hair hanging just over his collar.

He poked the fire, moving the logs, and added some more kindling. Allie leaned against the doorjamb, one leg crossed over the other, and continued to watch him. In a few minutes the fire had turned to flames, even and steady. He turned to the side to straighten the remaining unused logs and caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye. He looked up quickly.

Even in his clothes she looked beautiful. After a moment he shyly went back to stacking the logs.

“I didn’t hear you come in.” he said, trying to sound casual. “How long have you been standing there?”

“A couple of minutes.”

Noah brushed his hands on his jeans, then pointed to the kitchen. “Can I get you some tea? I started the water while you were upstairs.” Small talk, anything to keep his mind clear. But damn, the way she looked...

She thought for a second. Do you have anything stronger, or is it too early to drink?”

He smiled. “I have some bourbon in the pantry. Is that okay?”

“That sounds great.”

He started towards the kitchen, and Allie watched him run his hand through his wet hair as he disappeared.

Thunder boomed loudly and another downpour started. Allie could hear the roaring of the rain on the roof, could hear the snapping of lop as the flickering flames lit the room. She took a quilt from the sofa and sat on the rug in front of the fire. Crossing her legs, she adjusted the quilt until she was comfortable and watched the dancing flames. Noah came back, saw what she had done, and went to sit beside her. He put down two glasses and poured some bourbon into each of them. Outside, the sky grew darker. Thunder again. Loud. The storm in full fury, winds whipping the rain in circles.

“It’s quite a storm,” Noah said as he watched the drops flow in vertical streams on the windows. He and Allie were close now, though not touching, and Noah watched her chest rise slightly with every breath, imagining the feel of her body once again before fighting back the thought

“I like it,” she said, taking a sip. “I’ve always liked thunderstorms. Even as a young girl.”

“Why?” Saying anything, keeping his balance.

“I don’t know. They just always seemed romantic to me.”

She was quiet for a moment, and Noah watched the fire flicker in her emerald eyes. Then she said, “Do you remember sitting together and watching the storm a few nights before I left?”

“Of course.”

“I used to think about it all the time after I went home. I always thought about how you looked that night. It was the way I remembered you.”

“Have I changed much?”

She took another sip of bourbon, feeling it warm her. She touched his hand as she answered.

“Not really. Not in the things that I remember. You’re older, of course, with more life behind you, but you’ve still got the same gleam in your eye. You still read poetry and float on rivers. And you’ve still got a gentleness that not even the war could take away.”

He thought about what she’d said and felt her hand lingering on his, her thumb tracing slow circles.

“Allie, you asked me earlier what I remembered most about the summer. What do you remember?”

It was a while before she answered. “I remember making love. That's what I remember most. You were my first, and it was more wonderful than I ever thought it would be.”

Noah took a drink of bourbon, remembering, bringing back the old feelings.

She went on. “I remember being so afraid beforehand that I was trembling, but at the same time being so excited. I'm glad you were the first. I'm glad we were able to share that.”

“Me too.”

“Were you as afraid as I was?”

Noah nodded without speaking, and she smiled at his honesty.

She squeezed his hand, let go, and moved closer. She put her hand through his arm, cradling it, and rested her head on his shoulder. He could smell her, soft like the rain, warm. She spoke quietly. “Do you remember walking home after the festival? I asked you if you wanted to see me again. You just nodded your head and didn't say a word. It wasn’t too convincing.”

“I'd never met anyone like you. I didn't know what to say.”

“I know. You could never hide anything. Your eyes always gave you away. You had the most wonderful eyes I'd ever seen.” She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked directly at him. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. “I think I loved you more that summer than I ever loved anyone.”

Lightning flashed again. In the quiet moments before the thunder, their eyes met as they tried to undo fourteen years. When the thunder finally sounded, Noah sighed and turned from her, towards the windows.

“I wish you could have read the letters I wrote you,” he said.

She didn't speak for a while.

“It wasn't just up to you, Noah. I didn’t tell you, but I wrote you a dozen letters after I got home. I just never sent them.”

“Why?” Noah was surprised.

“I guess I was too afraid.”

“Of what?”

“That maybe it wasn’t as real as I thought it was. That maybe you forgot me.”

“I would never do that. I couldn't even think it.”

“I know that now. I can see it when I took at you. But back then it was different. There was so much I didn't understand, things that a young girl's mind couldn't sort out.”

"What do you mean?”

"When your letters never came, I didn't know what to think. I remember talking to my best friend about that summer, and she said that you had got what you wanted, and that she wasn't surprised that you wouldn't write. I didn't believe that you were that way, I never did, but hearing it and thinking about all our differences made me wonder if maybe the summer meant more to me than it had meant to you ...”

Noah looked away and she continued. “In time, the hurt began to fade and it was easier to just let it go. At least I thought it was. But in every boy I met in the next few years I found myself looking for you, and when the feelings got too strong I'd write you another letter. But I never sent them for fear of what I might find. By then you'd gone on with your life and I didn't want to think about you loving-someone else. I wanted to remember us like we were that summer.”

“You're better than I remembered, Allie.”

“You're sweet, Noah.”

He almost stopped there, knowing that if he kept the words inside him he could keep control, the same control he had kept the past fourteen years. But then something overtook him and he gave in to it, hoping it would take them back to what they'd had so long ago.

“I'm not saying it because I'm sweet. I'm saying it because I love you now and I always have. More than you can imagine.”

A log snapped, sending sparks up the chimney, and both of them noticed the smouldering remains, almost burned through.

Allie took a sip of bourbon and began to feel its effects. But it wasn’t Just the alcohol that made her hold Noah a little tighter and feet his warmth against her. Glancing out of the window, she saw the clouds were almost black. “Noah, you've never asked, but I want you to know something.”

“What is it?”

Her voice was tender. “There's never been another, Noah. You weren't just the first. You're the only man-I've ever been with, I don’t expect you to say the same thing, but I wanted you to know.”

Noah was silent as he turned away. She felt warmer as she watched the fire. She leaned into him and felt the heat between them, felt his body, felt his arm tight around her. It felt so right to be here. Everything felt right. The fire, the drinks, the storm—it

couldn't have been more perfect. It seemed their years apart didn't matter any more.

They gave in then to everything they had fought against for the last fourteen years. Allie lifted her head off his shoulder, looked at him with hazy eyes, and Noah kissed her softly on the lips. She brought her hand to his face and touched his cheek, brushing it softly with her fingers. He leaned in and kissed her tenderly, and she kissed back, feeling the years of separation dissolve into passion.

She closed her eyes and parted her lips as he ran his fingers up and down her arms, slowly, lightly. He kissed her neck, her cheek, her eyelids, and she felt the moisture of his mouth linger wherever his lips had touched. She took his hand and led it to her breasts, and a whimper rose in her throat as he gently touched them through the thin fabric of the shirt.

The world seemed dreamlike as she pulled back from him, the firelight setting her face aglow. Without speaking, she started to undo the buttons on his shirt. He watched her as she did it and listened to her soft breaths as she made her way downwards. With each button he could feel her fingers brushing against his skin, and she smiled softly at him when she finally finished. He felt her slide her hands inside, touching him lightly, exploring his body. She kissed his neck gently as she pulled the shirt over his shoulders, freeing the sleeves. With that, he slowly reached for her. He lifted her shirt and ran his finger slowly across her belly before raising her arms and slipping it off. She felt short of breath as his hands gently caressed her back, her arms, her shoulders, and she felt their heated bodies press together, skin to skin.

They lay back, close to the fire, and the heat made the air seem thick. She ran her hands through his hair as he held himself above her, his arm muscles hard from the exertion. With a little tempting frown, she pulled him closer, but he resisted. Instead he lowered himself and lightly rubbed his chest against her, and she felt her body respond with anticipation.

He did this until she couldn't take it any more, and when they finally joined as one, she cried aloud and pressed her fingers hard into his back. She buried her face in his neck and felt him deep inside her, felt his strength and gentleness.

She opened her eyes and watched him in the firelight, marvelling at his beauty. She saw his body glisten with crystal sweat and felt every responsibility, every facet of her life, slipping away.

By the time the rain had stopped and the sun had set, her body was exhausted. They spent the day in each other's arms, alternately making love by the fire and then holding each other as they watched the flames curl around the wood. He recited his favourite poems as she lay beside him, and she listened with her eyes closed and almost felt the words. Then they joined again and he murmured words of love between kisses as they wrapped their arms around one another.

They went on throughout the evening, making up for their years apart, and slept in each other's arms that night. Occasionally he would wake up and look at her, her body spent and radiant, and feel as if everything were suddenly tight in this world.

Once, when he was looking at her in the moments before daybreak, her eyes fluttered open and she smiled and reached up to touch his face. He put his fingers to her lips, gently, to keep her from speaking, and for a long time they just looked at one another.

When the lump in his throat subsided, he whispered to her, “You are the answer to every prayer I’ve offered. You are a song, a dream, a whisper, and I don't know how I could have lived without you for as long as I have. I love you, Allie, more than you can ever imagine, I always have and I always will.”

“Oh, Noah,” she said, pulling him to her. She wanted him, needed him now more than ever, like nothing she'd ever known.