Leah was asleep upstairs, Jacob was asleep downstairs. She put on her coat, left the porch light on, and walked toward town. The grass, trees, road were cold green, hedges rustled, and she walked faster. There were six or seven cars parked at the meters at the end of Main Street and she couldn’t remember what kind of car Hawkins had, what color, anything. But Hawkins saw her coming, and he got out of his car, a Pontiac, and waited for her. When she got to him, he took a small velvet box out of his pocket, not a ring box, and handed it to her.

“I got this for you,” he said.

She opened it, and took out the gold mazuzah.

“Put it on me,” she said. His hands were big and she thought he wouldn’t be able to manage the little clasp. But he got it open and she turned her back so he could put it around her neck. He fastened it and she slipped it into the neck of her sweater. His hands rested on her shoulders, then without planning it, almost without thinking, he slid them down the front of her jacket to her breasts. She didn’t move and he put his hand under her sweater and kissed her hair and the back of her neck. She reached behind her to touch him, but he had a wild image of people spilling out of the little bar, climbing out of cars up and down the street and seeing him reaching under her sweater and her reaching into his open fly, and he caught her hand and laughed.

Her nipples were hard under her sweater and he ached to rub them.

“Get in the car,” he said. “Please, get in the car.”

They drove east on 25A, through towns she’d never been in. At Wading River, he turned into a smaller road that was rutted and twisting. They were close to the water; in the distance she saw a section of the unfinished expressway. They passed that, and were in the country; trees bent over the road, the road surface got worse, the turns sharper. Stone walls ran along the road, interrupted by closed estate gates. She didn’t ask where they were going; she didn’t think he knew either. The moon showed through, and the air coming through the open window was warmer. They must be right at the edge of the Sound, on the rim of the North Shore. She saw more estate gates, and he slowed down.

“Most of the houses are probably empty now,” he said. “No one’ll see us.”