Illuminated by Erica Orloff Page B

thought about August. How from the moment I set eyes on him, I felt this crazy connection. Love made no sense.
    “It does seem to render most of us temporarily insane,” she said, shaking her head. “Now, listen, you two came here to find out about the book. But you must promise me that you will come back when it’s sunny and beautiful, for no other reason than to go to the beach, and find sea glass, and swim.”
    “Promise,” I said. “I love the beach but don’t get to go often.”
    We ate our supper quietly, when the lights suddenly flickered. Then the power went out completely. We were illuminated only by the candle.
    “My . . .” Miriam said. “A hazard of living on this island. I don’t think they’ll be on again before morning. Not with the storm.” She stood and walked to the cabinets and retrieved more candles and flashlights.
    She lit several more vanilla-scented candles and placed them throughout the kitchen and the living room. After dinner, we sat and watched the night storm through the tall living room windows. The rain continued to lash, and leaves and tree branches were blown to the ground.
    “It’s almost like a movie,” I said. “Look at it.”
    “I usually love the rain,” Miriam said. “But this . . . this is a tad scary. I’m sorry you two are stuck here, but I’m grateful for the company.”
    I looked over at August. “Me, too.”

     
    Later, Miriam lent me a pair of sweatpants and a long T-shirt for bed. She had a master bedroom on the first floor, and August and I each had a room on the second floor. My bedroom had a skylight, and I could hear the rain splattering against it. The sound was almost deafening.
    A candle in a jar burned on the dresser. I sat on my bed and tried to decide if I felt sleepy. I heard a soft knock on my door.
    “You up?” August whispered.
    “Yeah,” I called out.
    He opened the door, and I stood. He was to me in three steps, then stopped, grabbed my face, stared at me in the darkness, and finally kissed me.
    I honestly thought I would pass out. He didn’t so much kiss me as seem to devour me, hungrily kissing me until I could barely breathe, and I was doing the same. It was like movie kissing—insane, crazed, feverish.
    “I’ve wanted to do that since the first time we met.”
    “Me, too,” I whispered back. We kissed in the dark, the storm making me feel like we were in our own little cocoon.
    “Calliope?”
    “Yeah?”
    He brushed a curl from my face. “You ever think that . . . I don’t know . . . your uncle’s matchmaking aside, that the book wants us to be together? Even getting stranded out here. Going to Paris, maybe.”
    I nodded. “It’s like Heloise and Abelard are reaching out to us from the book. Pushing us together. The night you texted me at three in the morning?”
    “The night I couldn’t sleep thinking about you . . . ”
    I nodded. “I had a dream. And I swear it was a dream about Heloise and Abelard. It was a dream of being in a medieval castle or maybe even a convent. And I was searching for someone or running from something. And I’m certain you were in the dream. And the second I woke up, you texted me. Does that sound crazy?”
    He kissed my neck, gently pressing his lips to the hollow where my collarbone was. “No,” he whispered.
    He kissed me again, then stopped and just touched my face. “When we go to Paris,” he said, “let’s go see their grave. Let’s go see them.”
    I nodded. August pulled me closer to him. “I’m crazy about you. I can’t sleep, you know. I think about you all the time.”
    “That’s why I was awake.”
    I touched his stomach, which was rock hard and chiseled. Like Miriam, I felt like I understood Heloise. He was beautiful, my Abelard, my August. But it was his soul I thought I loved.
    He slid a hand up my shirt. I wasn’t wearing a bra, and I stiffened for a second.
    “I . . .” I wanted to tell him I was a virgin. That after Charlie, I hadn’t dated anyone,