Whispers of the Lake

As designed, Ethan first glimpsed Lily at the side of Silverlake, the scant water below penetrating beneath her bare feet, while a wafting sundress fluttered in a gentle summer breeze. This was the first week of June: scents purer unparalleled, laden with a fresh abundance of wildflowers, and woefully slow movement by the rest of the world around her.

After a very prolonged time, for years, Ethan came here to the lake, where there was noise caused by the life lived in the city, looking for solitude. He had no calendar, nothing planned; he had a cabin, an empty page, and an unlimited period. But from the instant he first set eyes on her, something had stirred deep within him, something he had not felt for quite a while.

She looked back and found him staring. Not the awkward glance away he braced himself for, though, but a smile-a sweet, childish smile that reached her eyes and melted all the walls he had unknowingly built around his heart.

"Hey," she said simply, as though they had known each other all their lives.

"Hey," he replied as he walked forward, "Beautiful day."

Lily laughed as if in response to music. "It always is by the lake."

For a while, they talked about everything and nothing. She lived close, helped run the old bookstore in town, and came to the lake to clear the mind.

In the next few weeks that followed, Ethan would find himself visiting Silverlake even more, crossing his fingers that he would find Lily there. And she was—sitting on a blanket reading, sketching the water, humming tunes that he didn't recognize but wished he could. Gradually, what started as their friendly chats led them to long discussions, making their meetings the better part of his days.

The canvas of the sky added strokes of orange and pink as the sun sank behind the hills. Ethan and Lily sat side by side on the dock with their legs dangling over the water.

"I have the impression of having known you as if we were together in the womb," Lily said softly, her fingers swirling in the water.

Ethan looked to her, his heart thudding as loud as the quiet lapping of waves. "I know how you feel," he whispered, "that everything else is... distant. Unimportant."

She looked at him then, really looked, and he saw something vulnerable flicker in her eyes—something that went hand in hand with the emotions swirling inside him. Without thinking, he reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. She leaned into his touch, her breath hitching slightly.

"I think I am falling for you," Ethan said in a voice raw with honesty.

Lily's eyes shone brightly, and the smile on her lips trembled. "I think I fell the moment you said hello."

He kissed her then, his mouth feather-light at first and tasting sweetly of hope and fear and possibility. Her hands found his, and they fit together as if they were two pieces of the same soul, finally reunited.

And thus their summer was bonfires on the beach and whispered secrets under the stars followed by such defining moments as stolen kisses in the rain. Flip-flops in the grass, dancing barefoot, wishing on shooting stars, and dreaming in lazy afternoons' moonlight promises were part and parcel with the life they built together.

Time passes, as it always does, and casts its shadow across perfect days-ending in what was to be a few days' visits back to the city in the promise of Ethan's return. They sat by the lakeshore the night before he was set to leave: