Johnnie, a romantic tale

“Isn’t it obvious? A guy likes her and she sits there like a stunned mullet going ‘uh huh’ to everything. You know what she said to me when she came home last night? She comes into my room and tells me that she is sorry she came out of her room last night and how she didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

Peter was taken back by that. “You sure it wasn’t ‘that motherfucker of a brother of yours insulted me! He can go fuck himself!’ It wasn’t something like that, was it?”

“I’ve never heard her swear. I can’t imagine her even thinking that. But, you know Peter, telling her what she’s known and hated about herself for years isn’t a great way to get to know someone.”

“She’s known and hated what?”

“How ignored she is and I guess how lonely she is.”

“Only she can change that.”

“No shit. She hates that she has no guts to do anything about it Didn’t you see her? She was absolutely blown away you even spoke to her. She’s a happy and simple girl, Peter, but you confronted her in a way she had no real idea in how to deal with. Now she thinks she’s blown any chance to find out who you are. I’ve already told her to forget about you as you’d forget her in a heartbeat.”

Peter laughed hollowly. “I’m sure knowing that thrilled her no end.”

“Yeah, she wonders how you could call her beautiful on one hand and forget her on the other.”

“I’m sure you know the answer to that as much as I do.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve been on the receiving end of that. I know you Peter. You don’t call women beautiful Peter, you’re not that type. My little flatmate has touched you somewhere you don’t want to know about.”

“This is true. She is something else, yet you found it funny.”

“I guess I’m blown away that my jet-setting elite famous brother thinks Johnnie Campbell is the greatest thing on Earth.”

“That’s her surname?”

“Johnnie Campbell, yep.”

“Well, my elite days are over.”

Tanya sighed. “I hate to see you throw it all away Peter.”

“After twenty odd years of not living a normal life, I would not calling doing nothing for a while throwing anything away. I think I’ve earned the right to throw what I like away. And this has got to do what with your little flatmate?”

“It could have everything to do with it. If you were still touring, would you have noticed Johnnie?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you haven’t before. She’s been a friend of mine since high school. You’ve met her before. You didn’t say boo to her then and I still remember the bitch you had hanging off your arm giving her a dirty look.”

“Really? It probably wouldn’t been profitable to have taken notice of her then. Well, times have changed since then in a major way. So much for leopards not changing their spots. If it counts for anything, I’ve noticed her now.”

“Counts for everything from her point of view, of that I'm sure.”

Peter leaned against his car and sighed. He had an idea. “She works in Miranda Fair right?”

“Yep, first floor, in Galleon Art Shop.”

“I should go and see her at her lunch time, at least to say sorry.”

“Well, she’s 8 to 5, and has lunch at midday.” Tanya looked around. “I need to get home, but Peter, be careful of what you say to her. She doesn’t need to hear that she’s turning people off liking her, no matter how bashful and shit she’s probably going to get with you.”

“If she doesn’t tell me to fuck off first for being rude to her.”

“Like she’s going to do that. I’ve known her since we were 14 or so and I’ve never heard her insult anything or anyone.”

“She’s probably never had too many people tell her she’s beautiful and meant it an hour after meeting her either.”

“Shit, I’d guarantee that.”

“Don’t tell her I’ll turn up. Let me surprise her.” He reminded himself that surprise had a double meaning.

Peter said goodnight to Tanya and went inside and to bed, his mind full of conflicts and doubts. Part of him wanted to catch a plane out of here.

He slept well, which surprised him when he woke about eight the next morning. Dad had already left for work and left some breakfast in the oven for him. He cleaned himself up, ate and planned out the day’s affairs.

He had to be in or near Johnnie’s store at midday. He laughed. Was that such a great idea at all? What was he pursuing here? Whose life was he trying to destroy now? He decided that he wouldn’t destroy anyone’s life. Or try not to.

About eleven he got in his car and drove the short way to Miranda Fair. The first thing he noticed was just how much the place had changed and grown in size. Still, that was incidental and totally immaterial by the time he’d found a parking place and made his way into the huge shopping complex.

He went up to the first floor. A directory gave him the location of Johnnie’s shop. A painting of a sailing ship indicated the Galleon Art Shop. Peter gave it a covert inspection. If Johnnie was in there, he couldn’t see. I hope she’s turned up to work, he thought. To his annoyance, a few people recognized him and pointed him out to their friends. One middle-aged lady dared to come up to him. “I’m sorry, are you Peter Cameron, the dancer?”

“Everyone says that.” Peter replied with the silliest grin he could give.

The lady apologized to him and walked away. Peter went back to his study of Johnnie’s store. He breathed in and went in, his eyes darting everywhere. Almost immediately he spotted Johnnie in one corner of the store stocking a shelf. She still wore loose jeans and a plain T-shirt. The only thing giving her employee status away was the apron she wore. She had her back to Peter, for which he was grateful.

The store sold art supplies and easels, papers, and assorted merchandise hung or was shelved everywhere. A balding middle-aged man served customers at the counter. He and Johnnie seemed to be the only two employees in there. A badge on his apron labelled him as Bob Campbell. My God, Peter thought, that’s her father. Keeping half an eye on the totally oblivious Johnnie, he took stock of Bob Campbell. He seemed an inoffensive enough character, not much taller than the demure Johnnie with a round placid face. His eyes were the same shape and hue Johnnie’s were. Yes, that’s her father, Peter thought again.

He quietly left the store and sat on a bench overlooking the center area of the Fair. Mindful of people who may recognize him, Peter read a catalogue to cover his face and patiently waited for midday.

Midday came eventually and Peter had eyes only for the door of Galleon Art Shop. Right as clockwork Johnnie came out of the store, eyes at the ground in front of her. She went the other way from where Peter was sitting and he watched to see where she was headed.

“I can’t believe this.” Peter murmured. “I’m spying on a goddamn woman. The tabloids would have a field day.” Still, he’d announced to nobody that he was returning to Australia except his family and, gratefully it seemed, he was far more famous abroad than in his own country.

Johnnie had taken an escalator down to the bottom floor. Peter leaned over a rail and watched her walk. People walked around her like she was a pole. Nobody even looked at her briefly. It was like she was in some dimension made for her and her alone.

He went down to the ground floor himself. Johnnie bought something from a Chinese food stall and went out one of the front entrances.

It didn’t take Peter long to find her. She was sitting on a bench facing the Kingsway and her she had eyes for her food only. Peter took her in; saw the sun reflect off her straw-colored blonde hair, saw her small hands hold her lunch like it was her dearest possession. Peter debated his next course of action. Would it be opening a can of worms to say anything? Or would he be mending something?

He went and sat at the end of the bench. “Hello Johnnie. I wanted to apologise for being mean to you last night.”

The girl eating her lunch froze. Her slightly freckled face paled. She looked at him with the air of a sceptic seeing their first ghost. “Hello. You don't need to say sorry.” she said quietly. She turned back to her food with the movements of one shattered by loss or grief.

“But I’m sorry about the other night. It’s not my place to say things like I did. You didn’t deserve any of that.”

A pause. She considered what he said by looking down at her plastic fork. “Any of it?” she asked softly.

It was Peter’s turn to halt in his tracks. “Well, anything that offended you.”

She nodded. Peter detected a trace of a smile creep into her startled face. “Are you out shopping here today?”

“Not at all. I came here because you’re here. I needed to say sorry.”

“Oh.” She answered.

“For what it’s worth, I’m nervous right now too. So, don’t feel like you’re alone.”

She didn’t quite now how to take that one. Johnnie settled for a faint smile. “Why are you nervous? And what do you think it’s worth?”

Peter studied Johnnie through narrowed eyes. This young woman was not completely feckless.

“I’m nervous because I’m not used to saying sorry to people, and what it’s worth is dependent on how much you want to accept my apology.”

She nodded and studied her fork some more. “Tell me why you’re really nervous.”

Peter’s heart stopped. “Much the same reason you are, I guess.” he answered quietly.

The smile Johnnie gave him was something he’d never forget. Her cheekbones lifted and one corner of her mouth angled up more than the other. Peter sat looking at her awestruck. “Your face lights up when you smile.”

“Thank you.” she said. “I can’t believe you get nervous about anything to do with me.”

“Believe it, I do.”

“Still, why would I make you nervous?”

“Like I said, probably for the same reason you’re nervous.”

She laughed. “You need to go and have a drink. You’re more honest that way.” She said that without heat or malice yet Peter’s affability congealed on his face. He understood what she meant but a signal in the back of his mind alerted him to the fact that fairy-tales were just fantasy.

She saw his expression and misunderstood. “Oh, I’m sorry”

“It’s OK. I need to be kept honest anyway and I don’t normally drink. Think I’ve already told you that.”

“You have.”

“You don’t drink at all?”

“No. I never have.” She put her food down on the bench next to her and angled herself slightly toward him. She kept her eyes on a point about a foot in front of Peter’s face. She clasped her hands between her legs and rocked back and forth slightly.

His presence was obviously the total of her attention, though some inhibition or misgiving kept her from displaying it. Peter knew this and settled back into the bench somewhat.

“What did Tanya mean by you’ve given it all away?”

Peter looked at her blankly. “I’m sorry?” Peter had been too interested in taking her in, getting a real and three dimensional Johnnie imprinted in his memory.

“She said that you’d given it all away the other night, when you were over at our home.”

Peter found he didn’t want to bring up his professional life with this girl. He felt then that she was beyond the reach of such trivia. “Who knows what she meant. Tanya gets melodramatic at times.”

“I see. Would she have learned melodrama from you?”

Peter laughed. “Wouldn’t be surprised, although melodrama isn’t my forte. Melodrama is a type of acting and I’m not an actor. At the moment I’m just plain old Peter.”

“Not from where I’m sitting.” Johnnie responded quietly. “Nothing plain or old about you I can see.”

“Really? The feeling is mutual, believe me.”

“I believe you.”

Peter regarded her. He found himself smiling at her. Johnnie bit her bottom lip and looked out at the road, a small red flush appearing in her cheeks.

“When do you have to go back to work?” he asked, changing the subject.

“At one.”

“Don’t mean to pry, but is Bob Campbell your Dad?”

She shook her head. “No, he’s my uncle. Do you like his store?”

“Didn’t really have a look around to be honest. I was in there only for a second or so.”

“And you never said hello to me?”

Peter blinked. “I didn’t think it’d be appropriate to meet you in your place of work.”

“Says who?”

“Maybe your uncle would.”

“No he wouldn’t. Apparently he’s heard of you.”

Peter raised his eyes. “From where or how I don’t want to know. How does your uncle know that I’m around?”

“I told him you came around to see Tanya last night.”

“Oh...” Peter grimaced inwardly.

“And he saw you come into the store if the truth be known.Or someone he thought to be you.”

“Ouch. So me meeting you here is no surprise then?”

Johnnie nodded. “It was. I didn’t expect it. I didn’t expect to see you again at all.My uncle said you walked in and walked out basically.”

“Well, you have seen me again, come hell or high water. And I’ve seen you. And let me be honest without the benefit of alcohol and say that I’m glad I did.”

Johnnie’s attention was fully taken by Peter now although she couldn’t bring herself to directly look at him for any length of time.“Why are you glad you saw me?”

“The same reason I’m nervous.”

“Oh...you still haven’t told me why you’re nervous. I wonder if we’re nervous for the same reason.”

“I happen to like you Johnnie. I can honestly say I like you.”

Johnnie said nothing. She glanced at Peter every now and then but looked away when his eyes settled on hers.

They sat that way for an indeterminate length of time. Johnnie returned to her lunch and Peter studied the cars going by for the fun of it.

“Johnnie.” Peter said. “Be honest with me. Does my interest in you upset the way you normally live?”

Johnnie put down her lunch and resumed her shy method of sitting. “Yes it does.”

“Do you feel you would be better off without that interest?”

“Why do you need to know that?”

“Easy. I don’t want to hassle you. I’m not in the habit of hassling women, or people in general. I don’t want to waste your time.”

“You feel you may be hassling me?”

Peter shrugged. “Part of me does.”

“Part of you? What do the other parts think?”

“Nothing I can say tactfully.”

Johnnie stared down at her food. “What do you see in me?”

“Who cares? Why is that important?”

Johnnie laughed humorously. “I guess I thought it was important.”

“Johnnie, I couldn’t explain what I saw in you if a gun was held to my head. Does there need to be reason I think you’re special?”

Johnnie studied her nearly-eaten lunch with the demeanor of a guilty murderer facing the death sentence. Peter could almost feel her total disbelief in what was going on. He reached over and patted her arm. “Believe me Johnnie, I’m real, and what I just said to you was real and true.”

He sat back upright. He was losing control of whatever tact he was possessed with. And he genuinely felt himself falling into a romantic abyss with Johnnie. Just sitting here next to her had engendered a wash of emotions and feelings, a few of which were alien to his experience.

“You know, perhaps I should let you finish your lunch. But, if it’s OK with you, I’d like to see you again.” He looked up quickly to find two slate-blue eyes boring into him. They turned away quickly.

“I’d like to see you again too.”

“OK, when and where?”

“I don’t know.”

“Would you like to go eat somewhere? For dinner, that is?”

She nodded amiably. “I’d like that.”

“What sort of food do you eat?”

“Anything that isn’t too greasy or fattening.”

“Seafood then?”

“Oh, yes please.”

Peter laughed. “Seafood it is then. There was a restaurant on Princes Highway in Sylvania Heights that I adored when I used to live here. If it’s there still, that’s where we’re going.”

“OK.”

Peter laughed again. “Next question. Where do I pick you up and at what time?”

“Well. I leave work at five. My train gets here at ten past. I’m usually home by 5.30.”

“Your train? You don’t drive?”

She looked at him shyly. “No, I don’t know how.”

“Cool. Something else I can do for you. I’ll come and get you from here then.”

“You’ll pick me up in your car?”

Peter gave her a sidelong look. “Sure, unless that concept has something wrong with it.”

“No, it has nothing wrong with it.”

Peter got up. “Excellent. I’ll let you finish your lunch and get back to your uncle and all that.”

She got up with him. “Peter, I need to tell you something.”

“Sure.”

She stood a few paces from looking up at him, as is her wont, from under her eyelashes. “I’m not good at expressing myself like you can. Please don’t misunderstand anything I do or say as unfriendliness or something. I’m not used to being liked.”

Peter looked at her for some time. She flinched and fidgeted under his eyes. “That’s the most tragic thing I’ve ever heard said Johnnie. Not used to being liked. Well. I like you. So get used to it. Please.”

He took one of her hands and squeezed it and made his way to his car.

His mind was not in the same world or realm as his body when he got back to his Dad’s. He had to ask himself what it was he was wanting from this odd, shy, young woman. He had to ask himself a lot of questions, not the least of which was ‘where does it go and when does it end?’ He was not naive enough to believe it would never end and he was cynical enough to believe it wouldn’t actually begin at all.

Nonetheless he made sure the restaurant still existed. On finding they did, he gave them call and made a booking for seven that evening.

Something struck him then. Johnnie knew who he was. Knew his fame, his background and the things he’d done professionally. But she cared not. It seemed to mean nothing or next to nothing to her. She was interested, it seemed, in Peter Cameron the man, rather than Peter Cameron the ballroom dancer, the celebrity of the rich of Europe.

Peter sat and gave that some thought.It made a change from the vacuous smiles and meaningless syrup he’d gotten, and handed out, over the years.

Johnnie couldn’t care less. Peter smiled...that was a good thing. Her uncle knew him though, maybe through association with Tanya, maybe from the media or other places, Peter couldn’t tell.Maybe the truth of the matter fell far short of Peter’s conjectured reality. Only time would tell. Time had an inevitable habit of revealing everything.

He spent the remainder of the afternoon playing with Dad’s trains and pondering the every step of a young woman.

At 4.30 PM he dressed in smart casual and headed out into the hot Sydney afternoon to the next chapter of his association with Johnnie Campbell.

He got to Miranda Fair a few minutes later and found a parking place. He left his hat and glasses on this time; he wanted no recognition from passersby.

With no small sense of trepidation he went up to the first floor and to the Galleon Art Shop. Johnnie and her uncle Bob were behind the counter talking. The shop itself was devoid of customers. Neither of them recognised him; after a polite nod, the two of them returned to their chat.

Peter took off hat and glasses. “Hello Johnnie and her uncle Bob.”

“Hello.” Johnnie said softly.

Her uncle came around the counter and proffered his hand to Peter. “It’s a privilege to meet you Peter.”

“Thank you.” Peter smiled wryly to Johnnie.

“I guess you’d be used to people saying that to you.” suggested uncle Bob.

“Not in Australia, no. It’s a rare type that recognise me, unless it be dance and arts connoisseurs. I’m more known abroad than here.”

“What you doing back in Australia?”

“I’ve retired.” Peter found he did not want to discuss his career, not now, not ever. He inclined his head politely; a sign that used to signal journalists he’d had enough. Uncle Bob understood well enough and made a motion to the clock. “It’s nearly closing time Johnnie, you can go home if you like; I’ll close up.”

Johnnie took her apron off, neatly folded it and placed it in a drawer. She came around the counter and stood three feet from Peter, looking out the front of the store.

Peter suppressed a smile. “Would you like to go home?”

“Sure.” Her smile was anything but sure.

Together, but not quite together, they went out of the Fair and to Peter’s car. Peter chivalrously opened the door for her and she hesitantly got in.Peter wondered what tribulation was about to occur as he got in the driver’s seat.

Johnnie sat bolt upright in the seat, her hands clasped and between her legs, her eyes slanted down toward the handbrake.

What cliff would she follow someone over, Peter wondered, all the while unable to make eye contact and speaking in shy bursts. Don’t push her, he reminded himself. This must be the romantic version of culture shock.

He gave her a friendly grin and started the car. “We’ll go to your flat first.”

“OK. I probably don’t have anything to wear to a restaurant.”

“Casual clothes will be fine; it’s not a stuffy place, or it wasn’t when I was last there.”

They drove to Cronulla in silence. Peter wondered at his own patience or perseverance. He knew she craved admiration and love, but she had no concept on how to receive it. He understood why most when would’ve sniffed disdainfully and went their own way, or like Joel, ignored her altogether.

Now, he felt something else, an overwhelming desire just to hold her, just to let her know that someone out there really cared. Where did this desire come from? He thought he knew the answer and it unsettled him.

He knew then he loved this girl and he would’ve died in exchange to learn her own feelings and thoughts.

As they drove to her flat, he felt her eyes on him every now and then, eyes full of wonder, doubt and misgivings. She seemed to be on the verge of saying something on a few occasions, but never once opened her mouth other than to breathe.

Peter parked the car near flat number 11 and let her out of the car. She smiled weakly and preceded him up to the front door.

Tanya wasn’t home and he found out she wasn’t coming home that night. Peter smiled to himself. His sister had planned for them to be alone, he was quite certain of it.

“We have about an hour Johnnie, it’s not till seven that we need to be there, so don’t hurry.”

“OK.” She went into her room, while Peter sat on the couch. She come out and stood nervously near the TV. “I need to have a bath first.”

“Sure.”

She gave a brief flash of a smile and went into the bathroom. Peter busied himself going through Tanya’s photo albums.

Johnnie emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later wearing baggy jeans, a long plain white T-shirt and a paisley sleeveless vest over the shirt. Her blonde hair was matted with water and she was combing it as she got herself a drink from the fridge.

“Oh,” she said. “I am rude. Would you like something to drink?”

“What is there?”

“Tanya has Coke and I have some juice here.”

“Juice would be great.”

“OK.” She came over with a glass full of a browny-red liquid. Peter identified it was V8, a favourite of his. “Great, I love this.”

“You do?” Johnnie asked. “Tanya doesn’t. She turns her nose up at it.”

“That’s Tanya for you. She has problems seeing a good thing sometimes.”

Johnnie went into her room again and came out with a pair of black shoes and white socks. The shoes were like the type boys wore to private school.

Peter watched her put them on, not that the act of putting shoes on interested Peter, but the mere fact that it was Johnnie doing it. She felt his attention and gave him a smile much like a boy caught in the cookie jar would give his mother.

When she had put them on she sat on the couch a foot away from Peter, hands between her knees and looked at the turned off TV like it was the most absorbing thing there.

“I know you’re going to love the food at Menu’s Johnnie. It really is a great place. And I’m paying and I want none of this politically correct nonsense about sharing the bill. The pleasure is mine.”

“I’m sure I’ll like it, I don’t eat seafood much.”

“I’m surprised Tanya doesn’t have photos with you in them somewhere.”

Johnnie looked over at the entertainment unit where Tanya’s albums were. “She does. You must be looking at the wrong ones.”

“Can you find them?”

“Yes.” She went through the albums and found a few. “This is our last school photo together.”

Peter looked at the photo. “Where are you?”

Johnnie diffidently pointed to a small, slim girl in the front row with her hair in a bun. “There. I don’t look like that any more.”

“No, you don’t.” He found Tanya, sitting in the front two girls away from Johnnie, an arch smile on her young teenage face. “Look at her, trainee smartass in the making.”

Johnnie laughed. “She’d love to hear you say that, I’m sure.”

“She’s heard it, trust me. Does she have photos of me?”

“No. I couldn’t find any. I know she has a few videos of you.”

Peter glanced at Johnnie quickly. She bit her lip. “Well, I thought she’d have some old school photos of you or something, you know. I don’t think she has any of you.”

“Weird, no matter though. Is there more photos of you in here?”

“Yes.” She turned the page. There was a ragamuffin in a yellow shirt and a pair of overalls wearing a baseball cap. She was standing next to a large man with a beard. The location seemed to be a farm. “Where was this taken?”

“My granddad’s farm in Dorrigo. I was 20 or so at the time. I moved back to Sydney not long after that.”

“Why?”

She looked at him briefly. “My Mum and Dad died not long after. I had to come back to Sydney to settle their affairs.”

“Oh, I’m sorry Johnnie.”

She shrugged. “It’s OK. It’s been a while now.”

“My Mum decided to up and leave us a few months back.”

Johnnie nodded. “I know; Tanya had some very choice words to say about your mother at that time.”

“I bet.”

The fresh-showered scent of Johnnie was intoxicating to Peter. He sat there looking at images of Johnnie over the years. She’d looked like a boy over the years; of that there was no doubt. Johnnie openly admitted she hadn’t worn a dress or a skirt since she was a little girl in school. Peter didn’t care. He couldn’t find anything wrong with this young lady here.

“Would you still be in Dorrigo if things hadn’t have turned out like they did?” he asked her.

She considered his question. “No, I like it here. I’m not really cut out for country life.”

“I know it’s a nice part of the world.”

“It can be.”

“So is this area; you know, I don’t know how I managed to live anywhere else over the years. There’s something about the Sutherland Shire that’s home to me and always will be.”

Again, the oblique look. “You don’t want to travel any more?”

“No, unless I have someone with me.”

She nodded. “I would suffer homesickness, of that I’m sure. I’m too domesticated or glued to the ground; however it is meant.”

Peter laughed. “I know what you mean.”

Johnnie smiled shyly. “I’m glad you do. Explaining things is hard for me.”

The restaurant went well. Johnnie thoroughly enjoyed the meal and the night out and seemed in no hurry for Peter to take her home. Quite naturally, it was Peter that initiated most of the conversation. But throughout it all, a pair of slate-blue eyes watched him surreptitiously, to turn quickly aware when Peter became aware of the scrutiny.

Johnnie seemed in no hurry to go home. “What you feel like doing?” Peter asked of her.

“I really don’t know.”

“Want to try Burraneer Point then?”

“Sure.”

Peter drove them back toward Cronulla. At the end of the road he parked his car and they walked to the little wooden bench overlooking Port Hacking and Bundeena. For some reason Peter was reminded of French screen lovers and their declarations that “the night is still young”. He chuckled silently to himself and he and Johnnie seated themselves.

There wasn’t much activity on the Port. The sunset gave the water a pretty gunmetal like sheen and a gentle onshore breeze rippled the water.

To Peter’s surprise Johnnie started conversation. “Why is it tragic to you that I’m not used to being liked?”

“Not so much that as the fact you said it.”

“Oh...it’s not that anyone hates me, as far as I know, it’s that I seem to slip by everyone, if that makes sense. I can walk among crowds and not one person will look at me; it’s funny.”

“I’d notice you.”

She glanced at him. “Yes, I believe you.”

Peter wanted to say what his heart felt. The head said bad idea. “Would it be easier for you to talk to me if I was say, one of your customers?”

“Of course.”

“Why?”

Johnnie laughed. “Just the way it is. As a customer, I wouldn’t know you. I wouldn’t think about you.”

“You think about me?”

Johnnie shook her head and glanced at Peter archly. “As much as you think about me.”

“All the time then.”

Johnnie turned to face Peter, and to his surprise, didn’t turn from his gaze. For once, Peter could take her face in from the front. Her mouth was slightly open and she regarded him through her eyelashes. Peter felt intoxicated. Emotions seethed through his veins and arteries.

“You are beautiful, Johnnie. That must be the fiftieth time I've said that to you.”

A slight red seep came to her cheeks. She turned away slightly and looked over the water. “I wanted to meet your eyes then. I don’t believe I did it.” She looked back at him. “And you’re beautiful too.”

Peter moved closer to her and took one of her hands. “Johnnie, it’s hard for me to express exactly what it is you...you do to me. I feel giddy around you, like a little boy in toyland. Ever since you walked out of your room the other night, I’ve known something. Well maybe not known, but sensed, I guess would be a better way of putting it. I’ve sensed a need coming from you.”

She looked at him evenly. She put her other hand on top of Peter’s. “I can’t deny it Peter, I can honestly say that I do get lonely.”

An indefinable time went past. Neither of them had any idea exactly how long it may have been, for both of them were too involved in just sitting there staring at each other.

“It begins.” Peter said softly.

Johnnie laughed quietly. “It began for me a little bit earlier.”