Free East Hope by Katharine Davis Page B

her robe. “I can see my breath in here,” she said. “Did you turn up the heat?”
    He kissed her shoulder. “I got the fire going.”
    â€œThanks,” she said, now more awake. She smiled.
    There were only two radiators on the first floor, designed to remove the damp rather than heat the house. Once they left, the pipes would be drained and the house closed up for the winter. “It’ll be warmer by the time you get downstairs.” Will sat on the floor opposite the tub, his back against the wall. The old-fashioned bathroom was Spartan. Besides the toilet, the tub, and a wide-lipped pedestal sink, there was a white-painted chest of drawers and two freestanding wooden towel racks. Mary Beth had said she’d seen ones like them for eighty dollars in an antique store. She lowered herself into the tub, her skin turning pink in the steaming water.
    On their first morning in the cottage he had joined her in the bath. After a few minutes of them fumbling and splashing, the water had cooled quickly, and Will had had to get out and mop the floor. Knowing that there would be days and days of her, a lifetime of Mary Beth, he was content to watch her bathe; it was like having a good book that would never end, an infinite number of pages.
    â€œWhat would you like to do today?” he asked.
    â€œWell, as we can’t see a thing, I guess it’s going to be another day by the fire. You can work on your novel.”
    â€œI’ll start writing when we get home,” he said. “Why don’t we go to Chauncey Point and walk on the pebble beach?”
    â€œYou don’t think it’s too cold?”
    â€œI promise I’ll keep you warm.”
    â€œYou always do, Will.” She blew him a kiss and then eased her head under the water, surfaced, and reached for the bottle of shampoo. Will closed the door after himself and went down to survey the day.
    He didn’t mind the fog. He didn’t mind the feeling of being wrapped up, away from the rest of civilization, having Mary Beth all to himself. A delicious secrecy filled these days spent alone in this impermeable world. It was like dropping off the face of the earth into a mysterious land that was theirs alone.
    During that week in Maine, Will imagined that his senses had become more acute. Everything inside the house took on the clarity of a Vermeer painting. He could practically feel the weight of the silence blanketing them. In the morning the acrid wetness of the chimney awakened his nostrils like a jab, and the warmth of Mary Beth’s skin was like a drug. In the evenings when they came home from dinner, they sipped wine by the fire while he read aloud to her from a tattered copy of Ethan Frome . When the crackling flames dwindled to embers, they climbed the stairs, arm in arm, up to bed.
    On the final day of their visit the sun came out. The water in the cove sparkled and bounced in jeweled radiance. Will scanned the horizon with amazement. They’d been living in paradise without knowing it. They sat on the lawn below the cottage and looked out over the harbor. The air had warmed up. A small lobster boat chugged its way out the neck of the harbor. Several sailboats had unfurled their sails in readiness for a day spent on the bay. Will squinted into the sun. The pristine blue water was punctuated with islands, mysterious and beckoning.
    Mary Beth sipped her coffee. “God, it’s gorgeous,” she said.
    Will draped his arm across her shoulder. They’d made love that morning and she had a lingering sweetness about her. She seemed as unspoiled as the landscape before them. “I’m so happy,” he said.
    â€œI love you, Will.” She leaned into him. “Too bad the good weather came on the last day.”
    â€œLet’s stay an extra day.”
    â€œWill . . .”
    â€œWe could drive home all in one day instead of two.”
    â€œWill, I don’t want to be in the car for