Step by step they climbed until Maria reached the parapet; and as she skipped over the roof covered with tar paper, she whirled again, for this was a moment to commemorate by dancing.

How strong his arms had been, how confident she had felt, how soft his voice had been in her ear as he told her not to be afraid, not to look down, only up at the stars, for the stars were looking down at them.

She ran toward him in her bare feet and grasped his hands. Silently they whirled in a circle and as her hair flew loose to brush across her face and mouth, she laughed, then paused to rest in his arms.

“Only for a minute,” she said.

“Only for a minute,” he repeated.

She smiled into his eyes. “A minute is not enough.”

“For an hour then,” he returned her smile, then was serious. “Before we make it forever.”

Maria listened to the night as if it would tell her the hour. “I cannot,” she said, but made no effort to free herself from his arms.

“I’m ready to stay here,” he continued, “until morning. Then you can invite me downstairs for breakfast and to meet your mother and father. Do you think they’ll like me?”

He felt her sadness and was sorry, but they would have to face facts and things as they were, so they could plan for the things that should be. “I like your mother, because she’s your mother, your father because he’s your father…”

“I have three younger sisters,” she interrupted.

“Fine.” He was enthusiastic. “I like them too. I like all your friends and relatives, and all their friends and relatives, and all their…”

“You did not mention ’Nardo.”

Tony’s sigh was deep. “I like him too, because he’s your brother.”

“And suppose my mother and father and my sisters and ’Nardo were not related to me? Then you would hate them?”

“Maria, you’ve got to hold me. The thing you’ve asked me is what I’ve been trying to keep from thinking about. Help me, Maria.” He knelt to pillow his head against her slender thigh. “You’ve got to help me, because I’m not letting you go. I’m not,” he repeated fiercely as his arms tightened about her. “I don’t care who comes up here, who sees us, what anybody says or does. I’m not letting you go.”

“Tony, please, stand.” Her hand rested lightly on his head to stroke the short, stubby hair, which she knew would be soft and fine as silk if he let it grow. “I didn’t mean to ask that.”

“I’m glad you asked it.” He did not want to stand but they had to look at each other, so there could be no doubt in her mind about anything he said. “I don’t care if they come up here and cut my heart out,” he continued. “Without you, I wouldn’t want it.”

“Don’t say that.” Her finger crossed his lips. “Without you, I do not think I would want to live either.”