CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Young Love

Adam could barely wait for the next afternoon, so that he could share his triumph with Elizabeth.  As he walked her home after their work at the mission, however, her response to his achievement seemed tepid.  “I suppose it isn’t any great accomplishment,” he said.  “I only came in second.”

She smiled at him.  “I’m sure you’ll do better next time, Adam.  There’s certainly no shame in coming in second.”  She twirled the drawstrings of her reticule around her fingers.  “I can’t help wishing you had been first, though . . . for the sake of the prize money.”

“Well . . . yes,” Adam said slowly, not certain why she was bringing up finances.  “Twenty-five dollars does stretch further than ten, but Jamie and I can certainly put ten to good use.”

“Jamie,” she hissed.  “What does it have to do with him?  He didn’t place at all, you said.”

His brow furrowed as he strained to determine what was disturbing her.  “We share everything.”

“Well, forgive my selfishness,” she sputtered, cheeks reddening, “but I had hoped you might share some things with me!”

He stopped abruptly, staring at her.  “Do you need money, Elizabeth?” he asked.  Having seen the quality of her home, he couldn’t imagine that she had need of anything. It wasn’t a mansion, of course, but neither did it display the austerity of genteel poverty.  “If you do,” he began slowly.

Elizabeth laughed sharply and without mirth.  “Don’t be ridiculous, Adam,” she scoffed.  “As I said, it’s probably selfish of me, but I had hoped that we might do something together.”  She stared steadfastly into his face.  “Something a little more exciting than a walk home from the mission.  Ever since the skating pond thawed, we haven’t done anything else!”

“I-I’m sorry,” Adam stammered.  “I haven’t really known what else we could do.”

She faced him, arms akimbo. “Dinner, a night at the theater, a concert,” she suggested.  “I understood that you didn’t have money to spend on such things before, but I had hoped . . . with the prize money. . .”  She bit her lip.  “Never mind.  I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Of course, you should have,” Adam insisted.  “Elizabeth, I want you to feel free to say anything to me.  I am sorry that I haven’t been able to escort you to that sort of event.”  He hesitated.  “I suppose I could use the prize money for that, but it really isn’t fair.”

“To Jamie,” she snorted, the expression no more attractive on her than on a bull back in Nevada.

“Yes, to Jamie,” he said tersely.  “That’s the reason we both competed, Elizabeth, to add to our joint till for college expenses.  Frankly, I’ve spent more than he already, because of the extra text and supplies I needed for my architectural drawing class.”  He had, of course, paid for those from his own funds, but the expenditures had left him less able to help with others that they shared.

“You didn’t need to take that,” she complained.  “It takes up all your time.”

He took her hand and gently stroked it.  “It’s not just that,” he explained.  “I have two other new classes, as well, this term, and keeping up has been a challenge.  I’m beginning to get a grip on things, though, so I hope that we can share some Saturday afternoons together.”  He lifted her hand and brushed his lips across her fingertips.  “It will have to be simple things,” he said, “but surely it’s each other’s company that we want, regardless of what we do.”

“Of . . . course,” she said.  She drew her hand back and gazed demurely at the ground.  “What sort of ‘simple things’ did you have in mind, Adam?”

Adam had, of course, not had anything at all in mind, so he scrambled to come up with some idea that might please her.  “Well, we could walk up to East Rock,” he said tentatively.  Seeing her frown, he added hastily, “Or West Rock.”  The frown deepened.           “Or . . . or”—suddenly, he brightened—“the championship flag race!”

She looked up, eyes sparking with interest.  “Flag race?”

He took a breath and talked fast.  “Yes, on Saturday.  The college boat clubs will be racing down at the harbor.  We could watch them together . . . perhaps share a picnic lunch . . . or have a light bite elsewhere later, if you prefer.”

“That sounds . . . charming,” she said with a smile, “and I’d be happy to bring a picnic lunch.”

“That sounds . . . delightful,” he said, his head bending over her.  His lips hovered for a second-long eternity and then gently touched her own.

* * * * *

            Saturday dawned bright and clear, a perfect day for sailing.  As much as Adam normally looked forward to his rhetoric recitation, today he longed for its end, giving him more in common with the rest of the class.  When the Reverend Hutchison dismissed them, all the freshmen raced down the steps, most off for a quick dinner at their various eating clubs.  Since Elizabeth was bringing their lunch, Adam hurried to meet her.  Citing the need to save time, she had suggested meeting him on the Green, so they were soon together.

“Do you want to eat here,” Adam asked, “or go on down to the harbor and get a good place?”

“Let’s do that,” the girl said, adding with a twinkle in her eye, “unless the aroma of my fried chicken is so tantalizing that you simply cannot wait that long.”

Adam chuckled.  “It will be hard, as I can assure you that rhetoric recitation always gives me an appetite.”

“Because it always comes directly before dinner!” she laughed.  “For that foolishness, sir, and for refusing to say that it was my chicken that tempted you, you certainly shall wait!”

He took the hamper in one hand and her hand in his other.  Swinging it forward and back between them, he guided her toward the harbor, as happy and carefree as if they were grammar-school sweethearts on their first date.  But for his freshman dignity, he’d probably have started skipping through the streets.  Reaching the site of the flag race, they found a few other spectators had already arrived, and after a quick consultation on the best spot, they staked out their ground with a spread blanket.

“Oh, isn’t it a perfectly lovely day?” Elizabeth enthused as she opened the hamper and began to lay out the riches of its depths.

“Almost as lovely as you,” Adam offered smoothly.

She tittered.  “Flatterer.  It won’t win you a single extra wing from this bird.”

He leaned close. “I’d rather have something sweeter . . . from another bird entirely.”

She drew back demurely.  “If you don’t behave more circumspectly, sir, you’ll get nothing from any passing birdie.”

He laughed and eased back on one elbow.  “It wasn’t passing birdies I was interested in, either, but I’ll behave.”  He lowered his voice and added, “For now,” in a sensuous whisper.

She placed a chicken breast on a dish she’d brought from home and dished out a mound of potato salad and another of pickled cucumbers and onions beside it.  “That’s for now,” she said.

He leaned dangerously close to her lips.  “And for later?”

She laughed.  “Cherry pie . . . if you behave.”

He took the plate, but waited until she’d served herself before beginning to eat “It’s delicious,” he said after the first bite.  “I see we must add cooking to your many fine attributes.”

“And flattery is obviously the finest of yours,” she replied with a slightly rebuking shake of her head.  “You’ll have to hold it in check if we hope to finish dinner by the time the race starts.”

“What race?” Adam asked with a deliberately dreamy grin.

Elizabeth waved a threatening drumstick at his nose.  “The one you’ll be running if you keep this up,” she declared with a flounce of her curls.

“I think I’d rather watch the boats . . . and you . . . watching the boats,” he said, dutifully biting into the chicken.  Though he politely kept his mouth closed as he chewed, his eyes still twinkled with unexpressed mischief.

When they finished, he helped her stow away the dishes and remaining food; then they settled back on the blanket, glasses of tea in hand.  “The water’s very smooth,” Adam observed.

“What?”  Elizabeth pulled her attention back to him.  “Oh, the water.”

He laughed.  “Apparently, you were looking at something else.”

She blushed prettily.  “Yes, I was looking at the boats.”

He wagged a chiding finger beneath her nose.  “Not to mention those muscular young men sitting at the oars.”

Seeing that he was teasing, she giggled.  “They do look attractive and—well, yes—muscular.”  It was an understatement.  The men of the Yale navy were wearing tight pants, one team in blue and the other in white, that left little to the imagination, while their sleeveless undershirts left nothing at all.  “I imagine you’d outshine them all,” she added with a smile.

It was Adam’s turn to blush.  “I’m somewhat out of shape,” he said.  “Not enough exercise.”  With the extra workload this term, he was frequenting the gymnasium less often.

“You should go out for the navy, then,” she suggested.  Her cheeks reddened again.  “For the exercise, I mean.”

It wasn’t what she meant at all and Adam knew it.  She was clearly dreaming of seeing his muscles bulge in a sleeveless undershirt and tight pants.  Much as he’d like to oblige her, he didn’t have the funds for that sort of extracurricular activity, nor the time for it, either.  “Perhaps next year,” he said, thinking of the funds he might set aside from his summer job, “although it would take time away from you.”

She frowned thoughtfully and deftly changed the subject.  “The water’s smoothness, that makes it good for racing, doesn’t it?”

“For rowing, yes,” Adam replied.  “It should mean a good steady pull, with the stronger team winning.”  He pointed out over the water.  “They’re getting into position now.  It looks as though Varuna has drawn the outside lane.”

“The ones in blue?”  At his nod she asked, “Is that your favored team?”

He shrugged.  “It doesn’t matter to me.”  He turned to smile at her.  “I’m not nearly as interested in the race as in the company watching it with me.”

“You’re sweet,” she said.  “This is exciting, though—a real college competition.”

The start was signaled, and Varuna quickly leaped into the lead, pulling steadily toward the turning point.  “I guess it won’t be much of a race,” Elizabeth sighed.  “Varuna is so far ahead of . . . what’s the other team?”

“Nixie,” Adam replied.  “Don’t give up on them yet, though.  Their long, steady strokes may yet win the day.”  For a short while his words seemed prophetic, but for no apparent reason the Nixie began to fall behind again.  By the time she reached the turning buoy, she was obviously out of the race.  The red caps of Varuna charged on and soon shot past the wharf.

“Varuna wins!” Elizabeth cried.

“Not yet,” Adam said.  “They’ve passed the wrong end of the judges’ boat.  They’ll have to come around again.  Come on, Nixie!”

Elizabeth doubled her diminutive fist and pounded his arm.  “Ooh! You bad boy!  You told me you didn’t care who won.”

“I didn’t . . . then,” Adam chuckled.  “I guess I feel obliged to pull for the underdog.”

“Well, I will, too, then,” the girl declared.  “Come on, Nixie!”  The couple cheered loudly, but the Nixie continued to limp toward the finish line.  Though it took the Varuna an extra minute and forty seconds to rectify her mistake, she still easily won and was soon proudly accepting the triangular blue silk, bordered with heavy gilt fringe and inscribed with the word, “Champion.”  The Nixie, it was soon revealed, had broken a tiller wire early in the race, but had pluckily plunged on, despite knowing she had no chance of victory.

“Well, it was a gallant effort, nonetheless,” Adam said.

“We’ll be sure to cheer for them next time,” Elizabeth vowed.

“Yes,” Adam said, smiling at the thought that there would be a next time.  Not, however, until next year, so he’d have to come up with some other excuse to spend a pleasant Saturday afternoon with Elizabeth.  “Would you like to stop for some lemonade before I walk you home?” he suggested.

“Shouldn’t you consult Jamie?” she asked with a trace of petulance.  She scanned the crowd.  “Surely, he’s around somewhere.”

Adam laughed.  “I wouldn’t count on it, dutiful scholar that he is, but it doesn’t matter.  We don’t consult over every penny, and I think the common till can surely support a couple of glasses of lemonade.”

“Well, then,” she said, “I think that sounds . . . most refreshing.”

Adam grinned.  “Refreshment it is, then.  Here, let me help you fold up that blanket.”  Their hands touched as they brought the two sides together, and they stood there for a moment, smiling into each other’s eyes.

* * * * *

            Though Adam had hoped to spend more time with Elizabeth, he once again had to ask her to understand that his Saturday afternoons had to be spent in study.  “The freshman scholarship exams are looming on the horizon,” he told her after their work at the mission the next day, “and I really need to win one.  More people are bound to enter than did for the prize debates, because the prize is so much greater.”

“How much is it?” Elizabeth asked, her lips turning down.

“The Woolsey, which is the highest, earns sixty dollars per year for four years,” Adam explained, “so if I could win that, it would make it much easier for us to have special times together next year.  The Hurlbut, which goes to the man in second place, earns the same prize, but only for one year.”

She frowned thoughtfully.  “Yes, I can see that that would be a help to you.  So, how long is it until the exam?”

One side of his mouth quirked ruefully.  “Not nearly long enough, considering how much review I need, but though we’ll only miss one Saturday together, that seems entirely too long.”

The sunshine of her smile burst out from behind dark clouds.  “Only one Saturday?  I guess I can give you up for one Saturday, if it means I’ll see more of you later.  You do promise?”

“I do,” he said and sealed his vow with a kiss.

* * * * *

            Though they were both competing for the same prize, Adam and Jamie studied together, and each assisted the other in the area where he was weaker.  Jamie was stronger in Latin, while Adam surpassed him in algebraic solutions.  They considered themselves virtual equals in Greek, but each of them was able to point out some intricacy the other had overlooked and both, therefore, felt better prepared.  They would have to write a Latin composition during the exam, but since neither knew the topic in advance, they didn’t have to keep their thoughts private, as they had for the freshman prize debates the previous month.  They alternated drilling each other on vocabulary and algebraic equations, until both began to dream in the classic languages and to work the mathematical problems in their sleep.

Since the scholarship exam had to be worked into the normal schedule of recitations, it took place over three days, beginning on the ninth of June, during the interval between second and third recitation.  As he had before the entrance exams, Adam insisted that they eat dinner, as usual, although both of them tended to partake lightly of Mrs. Swanson’s fine cooking.  They made up for it at supper, however, for with the tension temporarily over, they were ravenous.

Monday afternoon’s exam was in Greek.  Adam and Jamie entered Alumni Hall to find roughly two dozen competitors for the prize, all among the top students in the class.  Comparing notes afterwards, Adam and Jamie concluded that they had probably given the exam a dead rush, since their answers, at least those they could remember, were identical.

Tuesday, to Jamie’s horror, was devoted to algebra.  Thanks to Adam’s tutoring, he thought he’d correctly solved all but one or possibly two of the equations.  “You’re bound to have hit every one dead on,” he told Adam.  Adam only shrugged, but he was pretty sure he had, too.

Both agreed that the Latin composition they wrote on Wednesday afternoon would be the exercise that separated the winners from the also-rans.  “Unless algebra has cut me out of contention already,” Jamie moaned as they came down the steps of Alumni Hall.

“Jamie, if you would just stop telling yourself that mathematics are hard, you’d find it perfectly simple,” Adam chided sharply, a sure indication that the tension of three days of testing had unnerved him, too.

“Well, excuse me!” Jamie snapped back.

Adam started to throw back a strident retort.  Then he caught himself and grinned sheepishly.  “Well, I will, if you’ll excuse me, too.  I shouldn’t have rebuked you for fretting when I’m doing the same myself.”

Jamie laughed, too, then.  “Aren’t we a pair?”

“Edgy as long-tailed cats in a roomful of rocking chairs,” Adam admitted, pulling out a time-honored, if folksy, simile.  “Too bad the only cure is a two-week wait for the results.”

Jamie groaned.  “Don’t remind me.  For now, though, I think the only palliative I can think of is a piece of divinity.  Now, where’s Candy Sam when I need him?”  As he looked around, hoping to catch sight of the blind black man, something on the trees caught his attention.  “What are those?” he asked, cocking his head inquisitively.

Adam laughed.  “Those tests must have drained everything from your fact-befuddled brain if you don’t recognize the posters of Linonia and the Brother in Unity.  The trees sprout those every Wednesday, remember?”

Jamie fixed him with a scornful eye.  “Not the red and blue ones.  Someone’s tacked up some white ones, and they’re smaller than the usual posters listing the table of contents for the Lit.”

“You’re right,” Adam said.  “Well, one way to find out.”  He walked over to the nearest tree and called back, “Come over here.”

Jamie hurried over.  “What are they?”

“Advertisements . . . for furnishings for dorm rooms,” Adam explained.  “Evidently, the seniors are offering theirs for sale, collectible at the end of term.”

“Oh, we’re going to need that,” Jamie said.

Adam smiled wryly.  “And what are we supposed to pay for it with?”

“We’ve got the ten dollars you won at the debate,” Jamie said, “and I have some that Father gave me for expenses this term.”

“That won’t go far,” Adam muttered, “not when you consider everything we’ll need.”

“If one of us wins a scholarship . . .” Jamie suggested.

Adam shook his head.  “By the time we find out the results, the pickings may be slim.”

“We both have a good reputation,” Jamie insisted.  “If we make a down payment, I think the seniors might trust us for the remainder . . . at least until Presentation Day.  I can write Father and see if he can send us something.”

Adam nodded.  “Tell him he’ll be repaid for my share.  There’s no way I can get a message to Pa and receive a response within two weeks, but I know he’ll help with any legitimate expense.”

“Right.  Let’s get back to the room, and I’ll get the letter written,” Jamie said.

Adam clamped a hand on his shoulder.  “First things first.  Let’s read some of these posters and decide what we’ll need and who to buy it from.”

“And then supper,” Jamie said with a grin.  “Another thing that must come first.”

“Amen to that!” Adam heartily agreed.

* * * * *

            “How was your exam?” Elizabeth asked as she handed Adam the picnic hamper and took his free arm.  “As gruesome as you feared?”

“Gruesome?”  Adam laughed.  “I don’t think I ever used that word, but it was daunting and difficult.  I think I did well, though.”

“Good,” she said, giving him an approving smile.  “Oh, Adam, I’ve so been looking forward to this afternoon, and I’m sure you’re beyond ready for some rest and relaxation yourself.”

“I am,” Adam admitted, “and I wish it could be longer, but—”

She pulled away and stood facing him, arms akimbo.  “Adam Cartwright, you promised me this afternoon.  Don’t tell me you’re trying to weasel out of it already!”

He circled her slender waist and drew her back to his side.  “No, I’m only saying that we will need to make it a short jaunt today, much as I wish it could be longer.”

“’Not another exam,” she pouted petulantly.

“No,” he chuckled, “but I’m still dealing with the aftermath of this one.  Testing three afternoons straight meant giving less attention to my daily work, and I do need to make that up before Monday.  We’ll have a pleasant time together this afternoon, and I promise you a longer excursion next Saturday.”

“You promise?”  Her voice was tinged with disappointment and, perhaps, a hint of doubt, having heard that pledge before and been less than satisfied with its fulfillment.

“I promise,” he said.  He placed a light kiss behind her ear.

The blush of her cheeks only made her prettier.  “Well, then,” she said with a trace of forced cheerfulness, “if we’ve only time for the picnic and little else, I know the perfect place.”

“Lead on, then, lady fair,” he declaimed dramatically.

Smiling more openly now, she led him through quiet streets to the edge of town and beyond.  They followed a path through the woods and crossed a salt marsh, where sea gulls soared overhead; then they climbed a low mound and spread their picnic blanket at the edge of a small orchard.  Pink-white blossoms covered the trees, although some had dropped away, leaving small green apples in their place.  The hill was not high, but they could still see sunshine bathing the waves of the Sound and the billowing sails of vessels headed for New York.  “You’re right; it’s perfect,” Adam said.

“Just ham sandwiches today,” she said as she opened the hamper.  “I hope you’re not too disappointed.”

“Incredibly,” he said and then laughed at the look on her face.

She blushed prettily again, exactly the effect he’d hoped his teasing would produce.  “I guess I had that coming,” she admitted.

“Um hmm,” Adam murmured, eyes still twinkling.  He whispered, “Come here,” as he took her by both arms and drew her toward him.  “The sandwiches can wait.  I’d rather feast on this.”  He put his arms around her and gave her a long, lingering kiss.  He could cheerfully have foregone the sandwiches altogether and, perhaps, even the cookies which followed for more of that sort of feasting, but much as she seemed to enjoy it herself, she was the one who pulled back and insisted that they should eat.

“After all, you only have this tiny bit of time to give me,” she chided softly.

“And you’d rather spend it eating?” he queried, an enigmatic smile raising one side of his mouth.

“You can’t expect to study well on an empty stomach,” she insisted with a determined nod.  She looked up at him as she handed him a sandwich.  “And I do insist that you study well . . . today and all this week, so that you can give yourself to me completely next Saturday.”

Stifling the inappropriate suggestions those words inspired, Adam raised a hand to his eyebrow and saluted her.  “Yes, ma’am!” he declared sturdily and as if to demonstrate his commitment, he took a huge bite of the sandwich.

* * * * *

            Elizabeth squealed with delight when Adam led her from her front door on Saturday afternoon.  “Adam, where did you get a carriage?” she cried.

“At the livery,” he said dryly.

She gave him a push toward the vehicle.  “Ooh, you impossible man!  I know that.  I mean, how . . .  that is . . . oh, never mind.”

Adam knew perfectly well what she wanted to ask and was glad that courtesy had prevented the question.  He didn’t want to explain how he’d gotten the money for this afternoon excursion.  Not that there was anything shameful about it, although his father would probably have thought otherwise, feeling the way he did about borrowing money.  Adam himself had balked when Lucas first made the offer after listening to him bemoan his inability to do anything with Elizabeth except eat picnics that she had supplied.  Lucas, however, had pointed out that Adam would soon be gainfully employed for the summer and could easily pay back the loan from his earnings, so Adam had gratefully accepted.

“A whole afternoon together . . . I can’t believe it!” Elizabeth bubbled as Adam assisted her into the carriage.

“And I want to pack it full,” Adam declared, “because with the third term review beginning on Monday, it will be our last opportunity until I’ve finished exams.”

She pouted a moment to chide him for future neglect, but then her sunny smile flashed.  “As you say, we must pack this afternoon full of memories . . . if they’re all I’m to have of you for so long.”

He circled behind the rig and climbed up beside her.  Taking the reins, he said, “I hope you enjoy the excursion I have planned, but don’t ask: it’s a surprise.”

She laughed.  “All right, I won’t.”  As he guided the horse to Whalley Street, at the northwest edge of town, she gazed up into a cloudless sky.  “The weather is delightful for a drive.” She dropped her gaze, long lashes veiling her eyes.  “And the company enchanting.”

He reached over and lifted her chin with two fingers.  “I couldn’t agree more,” he whispered.

She glanced away demurely.  “You’re a very skilled driver.”

It was his turn to laugh.  “Well, we westerners do quite a lot of it, you know.  No hired hacks for us.”

She smiled.  “I keep forgetting your . . . unique talents.”  As he turned toward the small hamlet of Westville, she clapped her hands.  “Oh, I know where we’re going, and I’m so glad!  It’s been a perfect age since I visited West Rock.  Oh, please say we’re going to see Wintergreen Falls.”

He nodded, his smile skewing sideways.  “Foolish of me to hope we were seeing it together for the first time.”

She shook her head, smiling at his foolishness.  “Adam, I’ve lived here all my life.  Is there much of your Ponderosa you’ve never seen?”

“Not much,” he admitted with a sheepish grin.  “Well, since you’re the expert, can you show me the best place to view them?”

“Of course.  Keep going down this road, and I’ll show you where to turn.”

As they approached West Rock on its eastern side, he turned the horse onto the path she pointed to and drove down a shady lane through the woods.  “Stop anywhere along here,” she instructed.  “We have to walk down to the falls.”

He pulled the horses to a halt and helped her down.

“Bring the picnic hamper,” she instructed.  “We can spread the blanket on one of the large, flat rocks.”

“You seem to remember this spot very well,” Adam said, “or perhaps you’ve been here recently with some other fellow.”  He raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Papa used to bring us here,” Elizabeth explained, a small catch in her voice.  “I-I haven’t been here with anyone else.”

Adam squeezed her hand.  He’d learned early in their relationship that her father was an officer in the Union army, having enlisted soon after the President’s first call for soldiers.  While she was inordinately proud of him, she’d confessed that her heart raced every time she read the lists of casualties after a battle in which his regiment had fought.        Adam said, regretfully, “I’m sorry if I chose a place whose associations—”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” she scolded.  “Those associations were all pleasant.”

“I mean . . . if it makes you miss him more,” Adam tried to explain, but she shushed him again.

“I felt loved here,” she said, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.  “I . . . still do,” she whispered hesitantly.

“I hope so,” he whispered back.

“It’s only a short way down to the falls,” she said.  Then she gave a startled cry as her foot slipped on the wet leaves covering the path.

Adam dropped the hamper and deftly caught her.  “Well, that’s one way to get you into my arms,” he teased.

“Confess,” she teased back.  “You came early and planted those treacherous leaves.”

He grinned.  “Are you sure it wasn’t you, hoping for just this result?”

“Perhaps,” she said with a coy smile.  “If I could take your arm, kind sir, hopefully I can avoid another such tumble.”

“Are you sure you want to?” Adam chuckled, though he dutifully offered her his arm and then bent to pick up the hamper.

With a slight tip up of her nose, Elizabeth ignored his impudence.

Adam could hear the rushing water as they entered the woods.  “You weren’t kidding when you said it was close.”  A few more steps brought them to the edge of a small pool, into which the water fell by a two-step cascade over black rock.

Elizabeth clapped her hands.  “Oh, isn’t it lovely?  Does it remind you of home?”

“Yes . . . a bit,” Adam said vaguely.  The falls were lovely, although small in comparison with some he’d seen in the West, and the trees were, of course, different from the pines of home.  Somehow, though, the setting did awaken a sense of nostalgia inside him, as well as feelings of chagrin.  With all the new activities this term and trying to carve out time for Elizabeth, he’d neglected writing home, and he’d need to rectify that before exams started or his family would think he’d fallen into the Atlantic Ocean.

Elizabeth’s voice drew him back from his reverie.  “Adam?”

“Hmm?”

“I asked if you’d like to have our lunch on that rock,” she said, pointing to one at the edge of the pool that would give them an excellent view of the falls.

“Yes, that’s fine,” Adam replied.  He took the blanket from the hamper.  “Let me spread this over it, and then I’ll come back for you.”  He looked at her and grinned. “Can’t have you slipping again, can we?”

Blushing at her boldness, she said, “Not unless your arms are there to catch me.”

He gave her an impish wink.  “In that case, I’ll strew a few wet leaves on the path on my way back to you.”

“I think there are quite enough already,” she laughed as he walked away to prepare their picnic spot.

Soon they were seated side by side, their legs dangling above the rippling pool, eating the cold sandwiches and apple turnovers that Elizabeth had brought and enjoying the sight and sound of the waters splashing over the rocks.  When the food was gone, they remained on the rock, as if mesmerized by the scene.  Finally, Adam asked, “Would  you like to drive around a bit?”

“Not yet,” she said.  “I want to show you something.”

“All right,” Adam said, pleased.  He helped her down and held her arm as she guided him toward a trail leading up the hill.  “Whoa, wait a minute,” he said.  “Are you sure you can”—his gaze took in her ruffled skirt—“I mean . . . it looks a bit steep.”

“Of course!  Since I expected to walk wherever we were going, I wore sensible shoes,” she said, lifting her skirt up above her ankles.  Adam had trouble accepting her high-buttoned footgear as “sensible” for climbing, but he shrugged and went ahead of her to pick the best path for her pretty feet to tread and to help her over the rough spots.

“There!” she said, pointing to the left when they reached the top.  “What do you think of that, my handsome young architect?”

Adam followed her finger and saw the crumbling ruins of an old stone building.  “Hard to tell much about it in this condition,” he said, “but it must have been quite a place . . . with a stunning view.”

“The mansion of the Hubbard family, one of the finest in the state,” Elizabeth said, “or so I’m told.  Father said they used to hold grand galas here in its day.”

“Moonlight dances, perhaps?” Adam suggested, holding out his arms in waltz position.  She stepped into place and let him twirl her around and around.

Finally, gasping for breath, Elizabeth rested against his strong chest.  “If we stay much longer, we will be dancing in the moonlight.”

“Let’s,” Adam suggested.

She shook her head.  “And risk going down that path in the dark?  I think not! Besides, mother would never agree to my seeing you again if we behaved in such an intemperate manner.”

“I won’t risk that,” Adam said, “but I do wish this evening didn’t have to end.”

“Oh, Adam, so do I,” she whispered as his arms closed around her and his lips sought hers for a final embrace.