I am standing on a wide, empty beach of white sand. It's a sunny day, but clouds are building on the horizon. A strong breeze is blowing inland from the sea. Sand skitters across the tops of the dunes, whispering harshly against clumps of beach grass, and here there, a few small blossoms of salt-spray rose fade in the weakening sunlight.  The strong, clean smell of salt water fills the air. Beneath my feet, I feel the vibrations of the surf, like the beat of a great heart against the land.  

I turn and walk across the sand, stopping to pick up a pretty bit of  beach glass, a tiny, delicate shell, a twisted ribbon of bone-white driftwood, and I drop each one after examining it, sand streaming from my nerveless fingers. My hair blows across my face, and I reach to pull it back, indifferent. The beach, the sea, the whole world seems empty, except for myself and the birds circling and crying overhead.  

Partway up a dune, I stop to look back at the sea, at the horizon, swelling and glittering silver now that the clouds are overtaking the sun. A flicker of lightning licks the darkness building there, and the clouds tower like exotic mountains in a distant land. I shiver a little in the sudden chill.  

Something warm and soft envelopes me. I touch it. It is a velvet-soft blanket someone has placed over my shoulders. I look up.  

"You are cold," he says. "Let me warm you."  

 
REUNION II  

I clutch the blanket he's folded around me, and look into eyes the color of still river-water, green, with glints of gold and brown. He leans over me, a lock of long, black hair falling across his eyes, and pulls the blanket closer around my throat, the back of his hand barely brushing my cheek. I'm shivering now, and not with cold.  

He holds out his hand. "I have hot chocolate," he says. "Come with me."  

I put my hand in his, feeling its cool strength, and follow him over the dunes to a beach cottage sitting back in a grove of loblolly pines.  They are stark and twisted, an island of sanctuary in the barren meadow of beach grass and stunted pitch pine. He picks his way carefully, stopping now and then to guide my steps.  

I knew him long ago, I think. I knew him, and he knew me.  

I stumble a little as we mount the wooden steps to the cottage, and is instantly at my side, his arm around my waist, his grip on my hand strong and sure.  

"Careful," he says. "I don't want you to fall."
 

REUNION III  

We enter a room that is warm and filled with the rich aroma of chocolate. A fire is burning in the stone fireplace, its warm glow reflected in the hardwood floor. A pan sits on a grate by the fire, and the chocolate is simmering there. Candles flicker in sconces on the walls. A pieced quilt covers a low couch by the fire, and he leads me to it.  

"Sit here, where it's warm," he says. He takes the blanket from my shoulders and gently wraps the quilt around me. Kneeling in front of me, he removes my shoes and begins to rub the circulation back into my cold feet, bending so low I can feel his warm breath on my toes.  

Outside, the wind is rising. It moans, and rattles the glass in the windows.  

The long lock of hair brushes across the tops of my feet, leaving a burning trail on the skin. Slowly, he lifts his head, and I can see in the dim light that he is smiling. He has a lovely smile. One corner of his full, sensuous lips lifts slightly higher than the other. He reaches up and takes my hands in each of his, rubbing them between thumb and forefinger.  

"Cold hands," he says. "Warm heart."
 

REUNION IV  

The chocolate is ready. He busies himself pouring from the pan, stirring, placing things just so. Then he brings two steaming mugs over to where I'm sitting and puts one in my hands. The bittersweet smell of the drink rises on the steam and fills my nostrils. I fold my hands around the mug. Its ceramic is smooth and hard and warm to my touch, and I raise it to my lips to take a sip, closing my eyes as the rich, brown taste curls across my tongue. I can't stop a little moan of pleasure.  

"Is it too hot?" he asks.  

"No," I say. "It's just right."  

Thunder rumbles in the distance. Beneath that, I can feel the pounding of the surf, a counterpoint to the beating of my heart. The very air in the room seems to shift.  

"That's really nice perfume." He leans closer, his eyes closing. I feel his breath against my throat, and then he sits back. The chocolate is making me very warm. My skin tingles all over with unaccustomed heat.  

"I have known you before," I say. "A long time ago."  

"Ah." He smiles. He reaches over and tucks a loose tendril of my hair behind my ear. His touch is a tiny shock of cold against my burning skin, and I gasp a little.  

"Were we happy?" he asks.
 

REUNION V  

"Very," I say.  

The wind slams against the walls of the cottage, and the air in the room shifts again. Rain has begun to fall, and the wind is moaning in the loblollies outside. His eyes shine with tiny stars from the firelight.  In the dim light, I think I see deep sadness there, but also other things:  a fundamental humor, an awakened ability to love, and above all, a deep longing for hope. Seeing that, I know that what we have now, what we had before, is precious because it is fleeting. Gently, I trace his mouth with my finger, and then we are kissing, the taste of  chocolate strong on our lips.  

The wind in the loblollies rises to full pitch. Rain is slashing through them against the roof of the cottage, and the earth shakes with the pounding of the surf. The air is afire with lightning and its attendant thunder. It seems as if the whole world is breaking apart.  

Then, after a timeless time, it's over. The wind dies, the rain slacks off and falls gently, and then stops. Sunlight breaks through the clouds, shining through the jeweled curtain of raindrops on the window panes. 
                                         

"You are going," he says, after a while. The bright sunlight across the floor makes the room seem darker. The fire has burned low, and his clothes and hair blend in the gloom, leaving only his pale face, his shining eyes.  

"Yes," I say.  

He helps me put on my shoes, then lifts me to my feet. Our fingertips brush, linger, part, as I walk to the door, away from him.  

"Will we meet again?" he asks.  

I stop and turn at the door. We gaze into each other's eyes, and slowly I begin to smile.  

"Yes," I say, before I step into the sunlight.