His feet moved on the gravel, releasing the smell of wet soil. May I kiss you?

A big kiss or a little kiss?

A little one, he said.

His lips were gentle and dry, and for a confused moment she was thrown back to a kiss of many years before, not so very far from where they now stood. His arm came around her, spreading warmth and as she moved closer to be surrounded by him, he mistook her movement, thinking she was shy, and drew back. He gave her cheek a little peck, then pecked her hair.

You’re not scared of me, are you? she teased.

She had meant to put him at ease, but when she saw the confusion flooding his face, she wished she could have taken it back.

He embraced her, hiding his face. She couldn’t remember anyone having needed her before. Tommy Lattimore had worshiped her. Mike Higbee had wanted to win her. And Walter Vail had wanted merely to sample her. Gilbert Finch was different. His eyes were closed. She touched his cheek, astonished at what seemed to be her power over him. It was greater than any power she’d ever felt, and came from a generous place.

He mumbled something she couldn’t hear, and she drew back from the embrace to ask him what it was.

I never thought I’d have this, he said.

She lifted her chin — for another kiss — and saw his eyes welling up. He hid his face in her hair, overcome, and she thought, I’ve waited this long, there’s no hurry, I’ve found him now.

They were to be married in late September. That summer Lilian had planned to take the grand tour with her family. They would spend the last of August in Maine as usual and Gilbert Finch could visit on the weekends from town.

Lilian received notes of congratulations. Winn Finch wrote that he thought his brother had made an inspired choice. Her new father-in-law sent her a three-page letter in tiny print welcoming her to the family and offered as a wedding gift her choice of anything in their house but his bed. Her friends were divided between those who simply said how happy they were and those who felt they could now admit how worried they’d been about her, feeling that now she was getting married any opinion concerning her previous twenty-seven years was of no further consequence.

In one way it was true. She no longer felt her birthday was September 11th but instead June 17th, the day he proposed.