“But you said the poems were … serious.”

“That’s it! Don’t you see? You’ve been pouring love into me, Cathy, and you expect me to take it all and not want you!” He got up and walked restlessly up and down. “I’m a man, after all. I’ve got some feelings myself.”

“What feelings?”

“Oh hell, I get all uptight and crazy. You want to know what John Donne says about it? ‘… else a great prince in prison lies.’”

Cathy lay down on her stomach and pressed her face into the pillow. After a while she said, “I’m not ready, Joel … for the prince. You’d better go now. I have to think.”

It was as if she were melting away into Joel, as if she were no longer altogether herself. She wanted to hold onto herself. She didn’t know how to handle all the feelings inside her.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Joel asked meekly.

“Of course.”

When Joel bent down and kissed the top of her head she didn’t move. She heard his feet running down the stairs and heard the door slam. I’ve failed him, she thought. I let fear of the unknown get in the way of love, for I do love him. But not that way—not yet.

It was wonderful to go downstairs for supper and find Gramp sitting there with Flicker by the fire. It felt like a reprieve, so safe and warm there. No one mentioned that she’d been crying or asked why Joel had left the way he did, although they must have heard the door slam.