other than what they could know for certain?
“I do,” she said.
He turned to her, his eyes glittering in the moonlight. “I want to f ly up there someday. And I’ll be able to, I bet. Be able to go everywhere in this country and over to Europe, too. In aeroplanes and airships. It’s already happening. Just like the birds. Imagine, Em. Just imagine!”
She shrugged, trying to focus on his words but distracted by his eyes, his lingering f ingers on her face. “Maybe.” She’d seen pictures of the Wright brothers’ exhibition. She couldn’t say that f lying like a bird was something she wanted to try.
“Make a wish, Emma,” Charlie said, letting go of her. He swept his hand across the swath of stars. “What do you want? I mean truly? Close your eyes and wish, Emma.”
Hearing him say her name made her heart beat faster, the way those two simple syllables dropped from his lips. Emma. Emma . . . That f izziness in her belly surged. And then Charlie Ryan tucked a long f inger under her chin, and dipping his head, kissed her full on the mouth.
“Mmmph,” Emma said, trying, and failing to collect her thoughts—airplanes? Had they been talking about airplanes?
Her eyes f luttered open to see him, but he was so close, so immediate, so much, that she had to squeeze them shut again for fear she’d faint. His breath seemed part of hers, and oh! Was this what it was like? Kissing a boy, the right boy. This boy. Yes. This. This. He had been a part of her life every day since she was ten. Now she was seventeen, off icially, and the entire world, her entire world, shifted. Until that moment, Emma had not understood all the possibilities of kissing. She had not understood anything.
His lips were warm and he tasted like lemon f illing and mint.
“I love you,” Charlie whispered in her ear. “Be mine, Emma. If you want to.”
The way he said the words made her feel powerful and giddy. His skin was hot and fragrant and musky. He nibbled her lower lip again and Emma wriggled and sighed.
“I want to,” she said. “I love you, Charlie.”
Later—Emma wasn’t sure how much later—they were sitting on the dock, the stars above them. Her lips were tender from all the kissing, and her mind f lying because he loved her. He had pressed his lips to hers, and now everything was different and Charlie said, “I have something for you, Em.”
He slipped a small box from his pocket, his eyes f irm on hers as he placed it in her hands.
“For me?” she said, and they both laughed.
Her f ingers trembled just a little as she opened the box, pushing the lid with her thumbs. No wrapping paper or tissue, no bow, just a square black box. Her breath caught in her throat because no matter what was inside, this was the most perfect moment in her life, the most perfect she could imagine. Her f ingers reached in and pushed aside the cotton batting to f ind what was underneath.
It was a pocket watch: gold case, held by a long gold chain, long enough to slip over her head like a necklace. On the front side, it was etched with a hawk in f light, wings spread wide, soaring toward an etched sun. Beneath the hawk, the print was so tiny she almost missed it, a series of numbers. 1706254.
“It’s a serial number,” Charlie explained as she ran her f ingers over the bird and the numerals. “So you know it’s authentic. Authenticity is important, Em.”
She wondered if this was a dig at his father. But she nodded as though it was the most crucial of truths, as though a serial number was what made the gift so special—its authenticity.
“Look on the back,” he said.
She f lipped the watch over in her palm. Their names graced the back, also etched in the same delicate script: Emma and Charlie. Her f ingers fumbled with the clasp, and then she found the secret, and the watch clicked and opened. The timepiece’s face was white, with black roman numerals and two black hands, straight as arrows. And somehow—how had the watchmaker done it?—another hawk, tiny and graceful, drawn onto each hand.
It was beautiful. She should have said so.
Instead she said, “It’s heavy,” because it really was. She sensed it would weigh on her neck if she wore it, and wasn’t that just like a