Some people think joining lips is the most intimate way to share a moment of sheer one-on-oneness… But she begged to differ.

How often do we kiss in our lives?… many. Too many times in some cases.

How many times do we hold our loved ones by the hand?… For the simple pleasure of their palm against ours? Never.

She had kept that thought for herself… dreaming of the feeling of his skin against hers. She knew it wouldn’t get farther than that. Not in fear of deception, nor in lack of will… She just had goals of her own, wishes of untold fairytales, happy endings she didn’t expect others to understand…

But he did… He could see what awaited on the other end of the rainbow, without willing to walk the walk and pick the token barrel to make it his own. They were an unlikely, time and distance-wise impared duo, but nonetheless connecting in a way even they could not explain…

Standing in a corner of the old manor, she reached out for him… “Can I ask you something?” she said…  Of course she could. She always could… But she insisted on asking.  “There is something weightless, spaceless you could give me… Something I could bring with me for my traveling to Nouvelle France…”

She reached out her hand, to welcome his, and she felt whole again at last.

She knew she’d have to go home soon…To a fantasyless life, pleasant all the same. But the feeling of the large palm surounding hers came with a moment of doubt.

She felt all her blood going to her hand, making it warm and comfortable… As if her whole body wanted to participate in the very brief exchange. His was large, larger than she would have imagined it, curled around her own.

“Your chaperons will find you shortly, Milady…” and he was right. But she couldn’t let go just yet. She needed to leave the print of her small delicate palm on his. Just in case he’d deny recognizing her in years, if she found him again, in better and more clement times… Then she could always put the pieces of the puzzle together, reminding him of the tales they had exchanged, way back in this other life they hadn’t even had a chance to share.

They didn’t speak, didn’t discuss this intimate yet innocent moment. She read in his eyes more than she had asked for, and she felt thankfull.

Most people thought shared love was something to chase after with one’s every ounce of energy. They both knew sometimes, love was like a gem, broken in two pieces,  wrapped in dark red velvet pieces of cloth, hidden in closets,  there to remind of a promise to be remembered always.

She ran her index on the side of his hand a few  times, feeling his obviously thickened by hard labour skin… He squeezed her fingers gently, and then they released their hold at once.

She turned around and ran down the stairs, and he followed her to the horse carriage that awaited her outside the manor. She blamed the wind for her teary eyes, and closed the door before she felt the need to say more than what was needed.

When the carriage started moving, she just let a few foreign words slip from her lips… A few words she could have shouted, as no one at the manor could have understood them.

She whispered them as she stared one last time in his eyes, promising never to forget, and hoping not to be forgoten…