To See The Years Touch

I Didn't Want To Tell The Story Of What Makes Two People Come Together, Although That's A Theme Of Great Power And Universality. I Wanted To Find Out What It Takes For Two People To Stay Together For Fifty Years -- Or More. I Wanted To Tell Not The Story Of Courtship, But The Story Of Marriage.

I Thought The Force Of My Wanting Must Wake Ye, Surely. And Then Ye Did Come. . ." He Stopped, Looking At Me With Eyes Gone Soft And Dark. "christ, Claire, Ye Were So Beautiful, There On The Stair, Wi' Your Hair Down And The Shadow Of Your Body With The Light Behind Ye…." He Shook His Head Slowly. "i Did Think I Should Die, If I Didna Have Ye," He Said Softly. "just Then.

I Had Kissed My Share Of Men, Particularly During The War Years, When Flirtation And Instant Romance Were The Light-minded Companions Of Death And Uncertainty. Jamie, Thought, Was Something Different. His Extreme Gentleness Was In No Way Tentative; Rather It Was A Promise Of Power Known And Held In Leash; A Challenge And A Provocation The More Remarkable For Its Lack Of Demand. I Am Yours, It Said. And If You Will Have Me, Then.

I Want To Hold You Like A Kitten In My Shirt, And Still I Want To Spread Your Thighs And Plow Ye Like A Rotting Bull. I Dinna Understand Myself.

With That Height, Plus A Face Of An Ugliness So Transcendant As To Be Grotesquely Beautiful, It Was Obvious Why She Had Embraced A Religious Life--christ Was The Only Man From Whom She Might Expect Embrace In Return.