hop-skipped past the building and headed for the far edge of the campus.
Her breath came in little bursts as he led her farther and farther from Rhodes Hall, and they finally reached the tree-lined path that led to the stone foundation. But instead of taking her to the meadow, he tugged her beneath a tree and leaned against the trunk, his chest rising and falling with the heaviness of his breathing.
Libby’s chest also heaved, but she couldn’t be certain which bore responsibility—the brisk walk or the wonderment of what he’d done. “P-Petey?” Her voice rasped out. “You kissed me!”
Petey caught her braid and let it slide through his fingers until he reached the end. He held the tip, playfully swishing the long plait to and fro. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since your sixteenth birthday. I’ve loved you that long. Maybe longer.” His features, tinged by moonlight creeping between the bare branches overhead, were pinched with remorse. “But I shouldn’t have chosen that moment. I—”
“You should do it again.”
He jerked upright and gawked at her for one startled second. Then a soft laugh—a joyous sound—escaped his throat. He released her braid and brought up his hands to cup her cheeks. He leaned in slowly, torturing her with the delay, and at last brushed her lips with his.
Her eyes slid closed. So the storybook tales are right. One’s heart does take wing. She let the portfolio slip through her fingers. It landed with a light crunch in the leaves beneath their feet. She curled her arms around his waist and rested her cheek against his chest.
“Libby?” He held her tight, proving that his heart was as affected as hers. She felt it beating even through his jacket. “You said you wanted to please God with your life . . . with your talents. Is that right?”
“Yes.” She couldn’t be certain how God would have her use her writing abilities—whether in allegorical stories meant to paint a picture of His love and grace, or in articles that would inform and inspire. But she trusted He would reveal His will to her if she continually sought Him in prayer.
“I want to follow Him, too, with every decision I make, including . . .” His fingers splayed on her back momentarily and then very gently he set her aside. He collapsed against the tree’s trunk. “I can’t think when I’m holding you.”
She swallowed a knowing chuckle. So the storybook tales were right on that, too. She wouldn’t tempt him. She inched backward, allowing him plenty of space. Then linking her hands in front of her, she admired the sight of Petey bathed in starlight. Alice-Marie was right—his hair was the color of moonlight. And hers matched the dark sky behind the stars. A perfect fit.
“Petey, you don’t have to think right now. There’s time for thinking. We’re still very young. God has much more to teach us, I’m sure. Right now, it’s enough to know He brought us together and He gave us the opportunity to become friends.”
“Good friends,” he added.
“Best friends,” she corrected. She reached out, and he responded in kind. Their fingers met and wove together—a simple touch, yet heartfelt. “I love you, and it makes me so happy to know you love me. But what’s even better is we both love God. With both of us seeking His will, we’ll discover what He wants for us . . . in time . . . and it will be perfect.”
For long moments they stood, her fingers linked with his, her senses thrumming. It seemed to Libby they were the only two people in the world.
Her gaze drifted to the edge of the trees, to the meadow where the stone foundation lay, unobtrusive but available to any who would seek. Petey’s thumb caressed hers, and she looked up as he looked down. They smiled in unison.
His voice husky, he said, “I should walk you back to Rhodes Hall. I don’t want you to miss curfew.”
She nodded. If she came in late, Miss Banks would surely reprimand her. Again.
“I also need to talk to Bennett tonight.”
Libby knew what Petey would address—Bennett’s overwhelming need for belonging and where he could find it if only he would release his stubborn will and submit to God. It was difficult to relinquish one’s pride, but she’d experienced the joy that followed when one finally surrendered. She prayed that Bennett would listen to Petey’s words, and believe.
Hand-in-hand, they ambled up the tree-lined path. When they reached the dormitory porch,