At Last (The Idle Point, Maine Stories) - By Barbara Bretton Page 0,36

overcome by the power of love that she had to cry or dance or shout out her happiness to the sleeping world. Everything around her had changed. She had changed. All of the rough edges, the aching sadness that had been with her for as long as she could remember, the sense that she would always be alone—all of it had vanished and in its place was contentment. She felt connected to the world in a way she'd never known before. The air smelled sweeter. The stars twinkled more brightly. And all because Noah loved her. She never would have believed her own skinny and forgettable body was capable of experiencing such wonder.

"I'm sorry," he was murmuring against her breast. "I didn't mean to hurt you that much. Next time it will—"

She cupped his beloved face between her hands. "I love you," she said, then laughed through her tears. "I love you I love you I love you I love you—"

Once again he silenced her with a kiss. "It will be better next time, Gracie. I swear to you."

"It couldn't be better. This was perfect, wonderful, amazing..." She rained kisses on his head and neck and shoulders. "Why isn't everyone doing this all the time? How does anything ever get done in this world when you could be making love?"

He tried to tell her that sometimes, with some people, it was nothing more than sex, but she didn't believe him. How could that be? Two bodies coming together then breaking apart. No magic. No wonder. Nothing more than a quick release. She tried to imagine the act without that soaring sense of joy but couldn't. She knew there would never be a time when the touch of his hand would be anything short of miraculous.

"I'm glad it was you," she whispered. "I'm glad you were the one."

"There's only you, Gracie. From now on... I'll never love anyone but you."

"You can't know that. We're so young... what if you meet someone this year or when you go to college—" she smiled "—or Paris... anything can happen."

"I love you, Gracie," he said again. "Nothing will change that."

"You can't be sure. People fall in and out of love all the time. They don't mean for it to happen but it does just the same." All she had to do was look at her own father to know that was true.

"It won't happen to us. This is forever." He chucked her under the chin. "Hey, aren't you the one who's supposed to be saying that?"

"Oh, Noah," she said. "I'm so happy that it scares me."

"Better get used to being happy," he said, "because that's how it's gonna be from now on."

She heard the sound as the last of her defenses shattered. "Promise me nothing will ever come between us," she begged as the unknowable future hovered all around them. "Promise me it will always be like this."

"I promise," he said and because she was young and in love she believed him.

#

It wasn't like Ruth Chase to drive around so late at night. For the most part Ruth was a homebody who rarely ventured out after dark unless she was going to a social function with Simon, and it had been a long time since her husband had wanted to go anywhere at all.

The doctors said that depression often followed a heart attack and that Ruth shouldn't be surprised if Simon seemed despondent as the weeks wore on. June melted into July and suddenly it was mid-August and she found she couldn't remember the last time she had seen her husband smile. He didn't go into the office even though the doctors said he could. He didn't read or sail or watch television. He refused to drive over to Patsy's for breakfast or go to the club with Ruth. He sat instead in the library and stared in the direction of the window. Conversation was limited to monosyllables. Ruth tried everything she could think of in order to rouse him from his melancholia, but to no avail.

"We can talk about anti-depressants at his next appointment," the doctor told Ruth. "His body has been through an ordeal. Heart attacks cause psychological trauma as well as physical. Simon's a strong man. Let's see how he does on his own a little longer."

Simon's depression made an odd counterpoint to Noah's obvious happiness. Her son glowed with it.

"Who is she?" Ruth had asked that morning over breakfast. "She must be very special to keep you out so late every