“Turn it over,” he said.  On the rear of the case were engraved the letters, BR to HC.

“It is very beautiful.  Thank you so much, Bernard.  I will treasure it always.”

 

On the way back, he gave her a windbreaker to ward off the evening chill, and let her take the wheel.  He pointed out the compass course to head on, and then stood by her side.  After a time of quiet sailing, he placed an arm around her waist and drew her head against his shoulder.  It was so calm, with the sound of a sail flap and the twang of a line against the mast and the rush of the water.  He changed course now and then, his hands covering hers on the wheel.

In a short while, the pounding of her heart slowed, and she even shut her eyes to better smell the night air and to feel the comfort of a shoulder to lean on and the wind in her hair.

He moved, and then his lips closed on hers.  She drew away abruptly and shook her head.  “My husband, Stephen, may be dead because of me,” she said gently.  “Alive or dead, it will not change anything.”

He nodded with understanding and took over the controls.  As they approached the turn into shore where two lights glowed from Jules’ dock, he turned towards her.  “The night should not end now,” he said softly.

“It has to end,” she said, just as gently.

“Until Stuttgart?”  he asked.

“If you wish.  But please remember–I gave away my heart many years ago. It will never be mine to give away again.”