We had brought in a radio we kept in the trunk, and we turned it on. The weather news was still the same. The police news was still the same. I guess I'd harbored some wild hope that they'd arrest someone, some secret suspect. Or maybe someone would just walk in to confess, unable to bear the burden of guilt any longer. I said as much to Tolliver.

"A guy that could do this so often, to kids he knew," Tolliver said, "he's not going to walk in and say he's sorry unless he craves the attention. He's going to be pissed off that he can't do it again, that he has to relive all his old good times instead of making new ones. And you're the one responsible for that."

I stared at Tolliver. This was what had been griping him.

"I don't think so," I said, as calmly as I could. "I think he came to the motel in a fit of anger, sure enough. But I'd think right now he'd be most concerned about keeping his skin intact and remaining at large. He's not going to do anything that would draw him to police attention. He's going to lie completely low."

Tolliver thought that over; I'll give him that. "I hope so," he said, sounding unconvinced. He went to the window and looked out into the darkness. "Can you hear it?" he asked.

I went to stand beside him at the window. I could hear a plink-plink-plink as the ice hit the glass. In the light that spilled from the window and the big security light, considerately aimed straight down, that the Hamiltons had fixed high on a pole, we could see tiny bits of ice hurtling toward the ground. It was eerily pretty. I had never felt so isolated in my life.

It didn't stop while we got ready for bed. I was tired, but not nearly as achy as I thought I would be. My head was okay now, and my arm was at least much better. I was able to cope with getting undressed and into my pajamas with less help, though Tolliver still had to do the bra-unhooking. We both read for a while; as Tolliver remarked, if we still had electric light we should use it. He was reading an old Harlan Coben, and I was reading Gavin de Becker's The Gift of Fear. Finally, I got too sleepy to keep my eyes open, and the bed had gotten warm around me, and I laid down the book and closed my eyes. Some time later, I heard Tolliver snap off the lamp between the beds, and then the only light that came in the room was a faint glow from the Hamiltons' security light. I'd been too exhausted to notice it the night before, and I didn't really think about it now…until I woke some time later and that light had vanished. The cabin was in absolute pitch darkness. The wind was howling around the corner of the cabin like a banshee, and I heard an odd sound in the wind.

"What is it?" I asked, and I heard myself sounding terrified.

"It's the frozen branches brushing together," Tolliver said. "I woke a few minutes ago and I've been listening. That's what I decided."

I scare pretty easy where Mother Nature's involved. "Okay," I said, but I didn't sound any calmer.

"Come over here, I'm closer to the fire," Tolliver said. "Bring some blankets."

I got out of the bed faster than I would have believed possible. My bare feet thudded on the boards as I yanked the blankets off my bed and brought them over to Tolliver's. I tossed them over the bed awkwardly. I slid in beside him and could hardly wait until the covers settled back over us. My teeth were chattering with cold and fear.

"Here, here," he said, and put his arms around me. "You were just out of the covers for a second or two."

"I know," I said. "I'm a chicken. I'm a wuss." I burrowed into his warmth.

"You're the bravest person I know," he said, and when I pressed my face into his chest, he said, "Are you listening to me?"

I pulled away enough to say, "Yeah, I'm listening."

"I'm not your brother," he said, in an entirely different voice.

For a second, I didn't hear the roar of the wind around the cabin or the ominous shaking of the ice-laden branches. "I know," I said. "I know that."

And he kissed me.

I'd loved him for so long. Though everything might change, would change, I couldn't help but kiss him back.

It was a long kiss, a hard kiss. I'd seen him walk out so many doors with other women, and finally he was with me.

He started to say something, but I said, "No, don't." I kissed him again, my own initiation. That seemed to answer his question, if that was what he'd been going to ask. "It's you," I said, as he kissed my throat. I had my good hand under his sweatshirt, touching the precious skin of his back, his ribs, the almost flat nipples. I rubbed my face in the hair on his chest and his breath caught in his throat. His hands were not idle, either, and when they found my breasts he made another, altogether different noise. I thought I would weep with joy.

"The shirt's got to come off," he said, and we worked to do that. "Your arm?" he asked.

"Okay, don't worry about it," I whispered. "Just don't lie on it and it'll be okay." I felt like I could get hit with a shovel all over again and I wouldn't care right now. My body and my heart were fully engaged for the first time. His hands seemed to know where to go and what to do when they got there. We knew each other so well in every other respect, it seemed only natural that we would easily understand each other's desires in this new activity. We already knew the appearance of each other's bodies, but not the textures or specifics; now we set out to learn those. His phallus was long, not as thick as some I'd encountered. He'd been circumcised. He had a slight upward curve. He was very sensitive around his balls. I loved touching him in places I'd never had the right to touch him before, and he loved being free to touch me between my legs. He loved it, and his fingers could be very clever.

"I wish I could see you," he said, but I was glad for the dark. It made me a little braver, and I concentrated on my sense of touch, so I didn't have time to think. If I'd had time to think, it wouldn't have gone nearly as wonderfully as it did.

As it was, when we'd finally gotten off enough clothes, when I was sure neither of us was going to back down, when he finally entered me, it was the happiest moment of my life. I let go of my safety, and I said, "I love you."

And Tolliver said, "Always."

Nine

"I wish you had some Kleenex," I murmured. I was resting on his chest. Our clothes were somewhere under the covers with us, or at least most of them were.

"Just use my sweatshirt," he said in a lazy voice, and I stifled a giggle.

I felt around us, maybe tickling him a little in the process, and located what felt like his sweatshirt. "I hope you weren't teasing, because I'm going to use it," I said.

"Go right ahead." He kissed the top of my head.

So I dried myself off a little, and patted him, too.

"Hey, be careful, that's my favorite body part," he murmured.

"Mine, too," I said, and he laughed. I felt his belly heave up and down. It was wonderful.

"I didn't think we'd ever do it," he said, sounding suddenly serious.

"Me, either. I thought I'd keep on watching you go off with waitresses."

"Or that cop, the one in Sarne. He really scared me. To say nothing of Manfred."

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah. I mean, the piercings and the tattoos, that's a lot to put up with, but he's so gone on you. And his grandmother won't live forever. I had a feeling Manfred would say that when Xylda passed away he'd be free to escort you around, and you'd want me to have the normal life you're always trying to shove on me, and you'd dump me and hire Manfred to be your manager, and I'd have to go find a job somewhere away from you."

"That's not going to happen, right?"

"Not if I have anything to say about it. And I do, right?"

"I believe I remember telling you how I felt about you."