She slid her chair closer to mine. “Let me see what mood you‘re in,” she said, and placed her hand high on my thigh.

“Carolyn!” I said. “What if Lucile comes out here?”

“What’s the problem?” She kissed me long on the lips. “We’re married. We have a right.”

“But we don’t want to embarrass her.”

She laughed. “Alright; I’ll save the rest for tonight. What time is dinner?”

We agreed on 7 p.m. No, she didn’t need a ride. She’d been using mom’s “little sports car,” a BMW convertible. And “getting quite a few glances” from the guys.

I stopped by the fish market on the way home and was ready to grill some fresh grouper when she arrived. She made herself at home -- this was still her home in my mind, and started making a salad from produce she’d stocked in the fridge before she left.

“That head of lettuce can’t still be good,” I said.

“Looks like it‘s never been opened. What have you been eating? Canned soup and TV dinners?” Carolyn peeled away the cellophane and outer leaves until she found enough crisp green to make the salad.

We ate outside on the screened porch, lit by candles and warmed by a bottle of red Zinfandel she brought with her. It was more than pleasant. The evening glowed with the memory of our original magic. And like those first magic moments it was no time for looking back or looking forward -- a time that stands alone in the present, not needing to mean anywhere or promise anything if you just give in to it. We did. We didn’t talk except to flirt like young lovers hinting at what would come next, what exquisite pleasures we had in store for each other. Somehow, we cooed our way into believing that if we could just be in love for a night, if we could just abandon ourselves to the extravagant ecstasy God had built into our bodies, that somehow everything else would be alright. At the very least, we would forget about holding any hurts against each other as we held each other close and felt our hearts beat as one.

And so the night unfolded, a dreamy parade of the senses, from the grouper, to the wine to the love making. And when we had finished, our satisfaction was complete and the only thing that really mattered. Completely content until sunrise at least, that was our unspoken agreement. Then we might know the impasse we’d reached over Sagan still frustrated us, that for the long run we had solved nothing, that we had simply made each other happy for the moment. But knowing such happiness was possible was nothing to toss away lightly for two people who loved each other even if they never did find a way to live together again. What we had for one night, sharing all the thrills God made possible in the flesh of a woman and a man, was worth its weight in gold, was more than some know in a lifetime, even if was never to happen again. Whether or not it would happen again, we didn’t pause to ask; we simply rejoiced and didn’t kill ourselves with thoughts that this could some day become a night recalled with sadness.

When finally the light did stream in to end our sleep and Carolyn rose as she had so often to turn humble powder in a cardboard box into the loving warmth of a new day’s welcome, we continued to hold at bay the questions that must soon end this separate moment of peace. We ate pancakes drenched in syrup, sipped coffee and smiled as we touched each other’s cheeks. Then the doorbell rang. I hurried to the bedroom to get my robe. Carolyn, dressed in one of my oversized tee shirts, remained at the table as I went to the door. When I returned, Sagan’s mother, Becky, was at my side.

“You know my wife Carolyn,’ I said.

“Of course,” Becky said.

“Sagan’s mom, Becky,” I said to Carolyn.

“Yes, I know,” Carolyn said over her coffee cup. If she was thinking anything at all, it couldn’t be read in her face.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you,” Becky said, “but Sagan didn’t come home last night.”

“You have any idea where he is?”

“No.”

“Did something happen?”

“I guess you could say that. Nothing big, but he was upset I suppose.”

“What?”

Her face was the opposite of Carolyn’s, her anxiety unmasked as she glanced quickly at me then Carolyn and then back to me. “I’m so sorry to spoil your morning together.”

“Think nothing of it,” Carolyn said in a voice like her mother’s.

“Can we go outside?” Becky asked me.

We stepped onto the front porch and she started to cry but quickly closed off the tears and waved away my hand as I reached out to comfort her. “Look, I had a few drinks after my shift last night and this guy who’s kind of sweet on me ended up bringing me home. I wasn’t thinking straight and I left the door to my bedroom open. When Sagan came home he saw us in there. Look, I hadn‘t promised I‘d be celibate while he was there but I was trying and I sure didn‘t mean for him to see … I get lonely too, but it‘s no excuse. I feel terrible.”

“What did Sagan say?”

“He looked in there and … I think he may have watched for a few seconds and then I heard him say, ‘what the fu …’ you know … the f-word. I felt like he had spit on me. And then …” she started to cry again, “… he called me a f-ing whore and stormed out.” She breathed deep and exhaled. “I haven’t seen him since. I got dressed and went searching for him but I couldn’t find him anywhere. I was hoping you knew … I’m sorry for getting in your way. How long has she been back?”

“Let’s focus on your problem,” I said.

“Sorry.”

“Do you have to work today?”

“Yea, in a couple hours.”

“Go home; try to get some rest. He’s not still there is he?”

“You mean my … friend?”

“Yes, him …”

“I think Sagan scared him off. He mumbled ‘I don’t need this’ and scurried away.’

“Good,” I said.

Apparently you can hold the world at arm’s length only so long. Carolyn was sitting where I’d left her, still sipping coffee, but her smile was gone.

“Has she been a regular visitor since I’ve been gone?”

“Of course not,” I said. “She had a little emergency.”

“Something to do with the boy?”

“Yes, Sagan.“

“Of course.“

“He’s run off. I have to get dressed and look for him. Would you like to come along?”

She laughed, almost spraying a mouthful of coffee. “Are you kidding me?”

“No, I thought …”

“You and Becky go. I’m sure the two of you will do just fine together.” She got up abruptly and went to the bedroom. She turned at the door and said, “give me just a minute alone in here and I’ll be dressed and out of your way.“

“Please Carolyn,” I said, “it’s nothing like you’re thinking.” But she would have none of it and soon our night together was over. At that point, I wondered if there could ever be another.