Chapter 6

I draw in the scent of her, and she is intoxicating. The night air is pressing cool kisses upon her soft skin as I feel her lean her face against mine. "I'm not afraid," she whispers unsteadily.

"Then why do you tremble?" I ask sincerely. I study her intently, attempting to find any glimpse of fear or apprehension or anxiety, but I find none of those. I see an aura of light emanating from her glowing skin beneath the moonlight. She opens her mouth to speak but her words pass away from her lips. Her eyes flit from my eyes to my lips and I stare intensely at her mouth as she gently bites her bottom lip as if mulling the words she wants to say.

"I have been dreaming of you," she begins timidly. "Every time I close my eyes I see you. Nothing makes sense." Her voice trails off as she swallows the knot in her throat. I can see her veins pulsing rapidly in a frantic rhythm of her heart. Our fingers still entwined, I watch in a quiet stupor as she brings our hands to her lips, gently pressing soft kisses on my fingers.

My breath hitches in my chest, it's getting hard to breathe. It's even harder to resist kissing her. Without thought my hands cup her face and I lean down to kiss her lips. An audible gasp passes her mouth and I feel her fingers stroke the back of my neck. A warm gusty breeze sighs through the trees and the leaves rustle in a moonlit lullaby as we slowly break apart from one another. "It's late," she says reluctantly. "I should go." I blink my eyes rapidly as if awakening from a spell.

Her hand holding mine is the only confirmation I need. The midsummer night's breezes and the crickets serenade our footsteps as we walk hand in hand, the moonlight guiding our path. The silence between us is not awkward or uncomfortable; instead, it is perfect. I cannot explain what is happening.

We come to the blueberry hedgerow of Mrs. Valerius's home and we quietly approach the lattice at the side of the front porch. I help Christine step up and watch her carefully climb up to the porch roof towards her bedroom window. "Erik?" I hear her whisper from above, a shy smile painting her face in the moonlight. "Meet me in the orchard at midnight tomorrow."

"I will, I promise. Good night, Christine." My heart races at seeing her smile widen as she sneaks back through the window.

I turn to walk back through the orchard with no doubt a stupid grin on my face. This whole night is surreal. As I approach the giant oak tree, the wind begins to blow and clouds quickly move like a blanket over the moon. All is dark and the crickets have suddenly quieted as an unnerving chill creeps up my spine. My pace quickens at the feeling and my heart starts pounding harder and faster. And that's when I hear it: a harsh whisper calling the name of Christine. No, it can't be real, it's just the wind. And there is no natural cause for the thick, sprawling branches of the giant oak to let off an emerald green glow. This isn't possible: there is no moonlight. "No, it's not real… you're just tired and it's late," I tell myself but it seems my feet do not agree as I sprint full speed to the farmhouse. Upon reaching the front porch and under the safe haven of the roof, I watch in disbelief as a bolt of lightning strikes the large oak in the orchard, with the shrill scream of what sounds like my name.

What the hell is happening?