Secret Lovers in an Old Barn

Her hair, unbound. A chestnut waterfall skimming her waist. The corset tied so painstakingly this morning cast into the corner of the old, rundown barn. Her clothes a trail leading to where they lay, a faded leather cowboy hat discarded in the hay.

His lips hover over hers. Warm, welcome, familiar. His hands palm her waist as he draws nearer. This will not last. She knows he will leave, as surely as the sun dips below the horizon every evening.

Forbidden fruit, sweets stolen in secret. A silent agreement they share to never speak of the passion between them. As fragile as the strands of the spider's gossamer web. She lifts her eyes from their kiss, her mouth pausing as she watches raindrops slip down the window above. Shimmering, effervescent. Like their love.

And just as transitory, there but for a moment before disappearing, gone forever.

He pulls from the kiss, the corners of his eyes tightening as he searches her eyes. He has a face she loves. A face so bright with kindness and joy that sometimes it hurts to look at him. He strings her love into a knotted ball. He ties her hopes into a balloon, and releases it into the cobalt skies.

She can live with that, she tells herself firmly when meeting his worried gaze. As his body lies next to hers, the intertwining of their limbs soft like home. Yes, she can live with these stolen moments, these kisses that are pearlescent tears dripping down the fragile glass of her heart.

"Snows will be coming soon," he says. Words uttered in a husky baritone. The voice she hears in her sleep.

"I've a plan for winter." A plan that would hollow out her soul, husking any shred of dignity she had left to cling to. Destroying her will to exist. What was existence without this gentle soul so tenderly holding her?

"So have I," he counters. He shifts upward, onto his elbow. The air is changing as the sun lifts upward in the sky. Rainbows refract across the battered wall of his family barn, coloring the rotted wood in muted, jeweled tones.

She has loved him for so long, so very fiercely, despite knowing of his parents' disapproval. Good-bye has always been a future exit.

"My life is not complete without you." He gestures to the rickety structure surrounding them, their sanctuary, a place of musty hay and borrowed dreams. Bird song begins, because nature awakes with the sun, and the day has begun.

"Do you remember our childhood? The daffodils you picked?" he asks.

"I remember you stole them from me."

"Only so that you would chase me." He grins lopsidedly, the chip in his front tooth uniquely his.

"I wanted to steal more from you." His gaze lowers, grazing upon her form in a lazy slide that draws warmth to her belly.

"My innocence?" It is a joke, and yet not.

"No." His eyes return to her face, sober and serious and intent. There are stars in his eyes, she realizes then, and they are shining for her.

A daisy appears before her, cradled within his callused farmer's hand. He holds it out, and she takes it. Her heartbeat stutters, tripping on this moment, on this gift.

"What then?" she asks, her voice a flimsy whisper afraid to be heard.

"I wanted . . ." His head drops to her bared shoulder. Hot breath, followed by hot lips, taste her skin. Then he looks up, and the stars are back, and he beams like sunlight on a cloudless day. "Your heart. And I wish to give you mine."

She is still holding the flower. The stem is soft, the petals new. He digs into his pocket, draws out a fisted hand. His fingers blossom, revealing a ring encrusted with diamonds, crowned by a pearl.

"Marry me, please. Let the world, let my family, know of our love."

If love was a rock, it lodged in her throat. If love was a song, it sprang to her lips. "Yes," she sang, the notes high, rich, floating between them in an eternal melody.

He takes her hand, her heart, and slips the promise of forever on her finger.