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"No, Jimmy. You can hope. What do you hope? Please tell me." He looked down, his face red. "I won't laugh."

"I know you wouldn't laugh, Dawn. You would never laugh at me; I just can't help feeling ashamed thinking it, much less saying it."

"Say it, Jimmy. I want you to say it," I replied in a much more demanding tone. He turned and looked at me, hi

s gaze moving up and down my face as if he wanted to capture me in his mind forever and ever.

"I was hoping that if I ran away and stayed away long enough, you would stop thinking of me as your brother, and someday I would come back and you might think of me as . . . as a boyfriend," he said, all in one breath.

For a moment it was as if the world had stopped on its axis, as if every sound in the universe had died, as if birds were frozen in midair, and cars and people. There was no wind; the ocean became like glass, the waves up and ready to fall, the tide stuck just at the shore. Everything waited on us.

Jimmy had uttered the words that had lingered unspoken in both our hearts for years and years, for our hearts knew the truth long before we did, and kept feeding us feelings we thought were unclean and forbidden.

Could I ever do what he dreamt I would: look into his face and not see him as my brother, not see every touch, every kiss as a sin?

"You can see now why I have to get going," he said sternly and stood up.

"No, Jimmy." I reached out and seized his wrist. "I don't know whether or not I can ever do what you hope, but we're not going to find out if we're apart. We're just going to always wonder and wonder until the wondering becomes too much and we stop caring."

He shook his head.

"I'll never stop caring about you, Dawn," he said with such firmness, it washed away any shred of doubt. "No matter how far away I am or how much time passes. Never."

"Don't run off, Jimmy," I pleaded. I held on to his wrist, and his body finally relaxed. He lowered himself back to the bunk, and we sat there beside each other, neither speaking, me holding his wrist, him staring ahead, his chest lifting and falling with his own excitement.

"My heart's pounding so much," I whispered and lowered my forehead against his shoulder. Now, whenever we touched, it sent a streak of warmth through my body. I felt feverish.

"Mine, too," he said. I brought my palm to his chest and pressed it against his heart to feel the thumping; and then I lifted his hand and brought it to my breast so he could feel mine.

The moment his fingers were pressed to my bosom, he closed his eyes tightly, just like someone in pain.

"Jimmy," I said softly, "I don't know whether I could ever be your girlfriend, but I don't want to wonder forever."

Slowly, almost a millimeter at a time, he turned his face to mine. Our lips were inches apart. It was me who moved toward him first, but then he moved toward me, and we kissed on the lips for the first time as boy and girl might kiss. All our years as brother and sister came raining down around us, threatening to drown us in dark and gloomy guilt, but we held on to each other.

When we parted, he stared at me with a face sculptured in seriousness, not a line creasing softly, his dark eyes searching mine quickly for some sign. I smiled and his body relaxed.

"We haven't been properly introduced," I said.

"Huh'?"

"I'm Dawn Cutler. What's your name?" He shook his head. "Jimmy what?"

"Very funny."

"It isn't funny, Jimmy," I replied. "We are meeting for the first time in a way, aren't we? Maybe, if we pretend”"

"You always want to pretend." He shook his head again.

"Try it, Jimmy. Just try it once. For me. Please." He sighed.

"All right. I’m James Longchamp of the rent weed southern Longchamps, but you can call me Jimmy."

I giggled. "See? It wasn't that hard to do." I lay down on my side and looked up at him. His smile widened, spreading through his face and brightened his eyes.

"You're so crazy, but so special," he said, running his fingers up my arm. He touched my neck, and I closed my eyes. I felt him lean over, and then I felt his lips on my cheek and a moment later pressing against mine again.

His hands moved over my breasts. I moaned and reached up to bring him down to me. All the while as we kissed and caressed, I kept smothering the voice that tried to scream out that this was Jimmy, my brother, Jimmy. If he had similar thoughts about me, they were driven down, too, held underwater by the building passion and excitement as our bodies touched and our hands and arms held us tightly to each other.