For The One(104)

It was after sunset, so William lit a modern propane camping lantern. It was generally agreed upon that modern nighttime lighting was needed in our campsites. If we were to go for anything authentic, such as candles or torches, we’d be exposing ourselves to fire hazards and other safety concerns. And though the rest of his tent looked straight out of the medieval time period, the lantern he hung on a hook at the top of the tent did not.

William pulled out a leather poster tube, and from it he extracted a rolled-up canvas. His actions were slow, halting, as if he feared my reaction. Maybe he’d decided to do that naked picture of me after all…

But no, the picture that he unrolled across the top of his patchwork silk and satin bedspread was not a naked picture at all. It only took seconds for me to absorb what it was, and once I did, my heart stopped and my eyes clouded with tears. I had no idea how or when I’d catch my next breath.

Outlined in black and filled with gorgeous watercolors was a view of Main Street USA in Disneyland. But instead of a crowded street, there were only two figures. They were holding hands as they walked down the street toward Sleeping Beauty’s castle, their backs to the viewer. There was no mistaking Mickey Mouse, who was holding the hand of a little girl with white-blond hair—me.

That story I’d told him…from my childhood. He’d remembered. And he’d rendered it in such loving detail that it made me ache just to look at it.

Tears streamed down my face, and I wasn’t even self-conscious that he could see them. In fact, he stood next to me and, with his big fingers, reached up to sweep them away.

“I didn’t mean to make you sad,” he said quietly.

I shook my head and sniffed, not even sure what I was. Was this happy? Was this sad? Was this so incredibly moved?

“It’s beautiful, Wil. You didn’t make me sad. But I’ve gotta warn you that I’m going to hug you so hard right now—if that’s okay.”

“That’s okay,” he said and opened his arms.

I grabbed him around the waist and held on tight. This meant that he’d been thinking about me during the week that we’d been away from each other.

We continued holding each other for a long time, and then I turned to look at the painting again. Crawling onto the bed, I spread it as flat as I could—the corners kept curling up—and took in every detail. “You’re amazing, Wil.”

He sank down on the bed beside me. “So are you.”

I shook my head. “No, I’m not…”

“You are. You’ve been through so much hardship, and yet you’re still a positive person. You help others. You’re strong and brave, and you care about other people. You’ve cared about me, Jenna. You’re like a ray of sunlight light cutting into darkness.”

I turned and lay my head against his shoulder, and he reached up to cup it in his large hand. We lay like that in silence for a while. And then, as my lids grew heavy, with sleep-slurred speech I asked him if I could spend the night here.

William sat up and I helped him pull the bedspread down. Then I kicked off my shoes while he extinguished the lamp. We crawled onto the fluffy bedroll, where I promptly curled in beside him as he held me in his strong arms. And I slept so peacefully—more so than I had in a long time.

The next morning I woke in William’s bed. He was sleeping on his side, facing away from me, but he’d taken off his shirt sometime during the night. I studied the muscles of his back, the way his rib cage slowly expanded and contracted. I wanted to lean over and kiss him, to run my hand down his solid back.

But I restrained myself—barely. I didn’t want to start something I knew that he would stop. The fundamental disagreement between us had not been resolved.

I swallowed a sudden lump in my throat. Would it ever?

With stealthy movements, I crept out of bed and slipped on my shoes. I needed to go to the tent I shared with my friends so I could change for the big day.

It was the first day of May—May Day, or within our reenactment group, the first day of the Beltane Festival. In ancient times, this day marked the beginning of the summer season and honored fertility. There would be feasting, folk dancing and a celebration around the Maypole. After dark, the Beltane Ball would be held around a raging bonfire.

I couldn’t wait.

When I got to my tent, a few of my friends gave me curious glances. Caitlyn, of course, asked me where I’d been all night.

“I, uh, well it’s not as exciting as you think. I was with William—”

Her brows shot up, and once again I got that weird feeling from her—something like vague jealousy. “Then it is as exciting as I think. Sir Hottie MacFine likes women after all.”