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"Why don't you take me to see it," I said. "I've never been in a New York City hotel."

"You really want to see it?" he asked. He looked unsure of himself, undecided, and for a minute I thought he was going to say something. Then his face changed.

A second later, he had hailed a cab and we were on our way to his hotel.

Although I knew it wasn't as fancy as the Plaza or the Waldorf, it was nice. His room was small, but he was right about the view. It was breathtaking to look out over the buildings and streets and see the ocean in the distance. Jimmy stood beside me and held my hand and we gazed quietly. Then I lowered my head to his shoulder and closed my eyes, trying to swallow around the lump in my throat. I couldn't keep the tears in.

"I'm sorry, Jimmy," I said, "but I can't stop remembering things. I can't stop thinking about little Fern, about holding her and feeding her and watching her crawl and laugh; and I can't stop thinking about Momma when she was healthy and pretty."

"I know," he said, petting my hair and then kissing the top of my head.

"And I can't stop thinking about you and me back at the hotel in Cutler's Cove," I said.

"I don't stop thinking about it either," he confessed. I pulled my head back from his shoulder and looked at him. His dark eyes gazed down into mine. "Dawn," he whispered, "if you feel like crying, go ahead. I'll understand. Cry enough for me too."

He looked so sad when he said that. I couldn't cry. I reached up instead and touched his cheek. Slowly, as if we were crossing all the time and distance that had come between us, our lips moved toward each other's and we kissed softly. I turned toward him and our kiss grew more passionate. When he pulled back, I saw tears shining in the corners of his eyes.

"I still can't help the confusion that torments me inside," he said. "I think about you, dream about you, want you, and then I see you in my mind's eye growing up as my sister and it feels so wrong to think of you any other way."

"I know," I said. "But I'm not your sister."

"I don't know what to do," he confessed. "It's like there's a wall between us, a wall forbidding us to touch."

"Leap over that wall then," I said, surprised at how aggressive I was.

I took his hand into mind and drew it up and over my breast. I pressed his palm there and held it. He kissed me again and then we moved quietly to the bed. First, we just sat there, stroking each other tenderly. Then he moved closer so his head was on my forehead. His warm breath was on my face. I moved so my head tilted backward and my neck arched. I didn't feel quite real when his warm lips kissed the hollow of my throat and stayed there. My breath caught. For a long, long moment, I waited for him to move away. I felt the tingling turning into wave after wave of warmth moving down my body from the place where his lips touched me, down to the very tips of my toes.

I moaned and fell back against the pillow. He leaned over me, his arms at my sides and smiled.

"You're so pretty. I can't help loving you. There will never be anyone for me but you, and even if it takes me years and years to get past that wall, do it," he pledged.

"Oh Jimmy, get over that wall now," I begged, not even believing my own words. It was as if there was someone else within me saying these things. He grew serious, his eyes darker, smaller.

Then he sat back and stripped off his army jacket and unbuttoned his shirt. I watched him, unmoving. When he began to lower his pants, I lifted my sweater over my head and unzipped my skirt. He pulled back the cover on the bed and I slipped under it, just wearing my bra and panties. We embraced and kissed. His fingers found the clip on my bra and undid it. After he removed it with my help, he pressed his face to my breasts and kissed me.

"How beautiful you are," he said with a low sigh. "I remember when you were younger. You were so shy about your body, always wanting to wear loose sweaters so I couldn't see. And if we should accidentally touch . . ."

His memories sent me reeling back to our years as brother and sister. The wall he described between us came between us again as I recalled those times when we did touch each other intimately by accident and then felt dirty and ashamed because of it. It was so hard to drive away those images and feelings.

When he pressed his manliness against me now, I shuddered both because of the excitement and because of the guilt. But why should I feel this guilt? I demanded of myself. Jimmy is not my brother; he's not!

Jimmy sensed the tightening in my body and his kisses came to a halt. He pulled himself back and looked at me.

"We're going too fast, Dawn," he said. "This is going to hurt our love for each other, not cement it. I want you, more than I want anything else, but I don't want to do anything to drive you away from me.

"Let's just lie here together, and hold each other," he said with a wisdom far greater than mine.

He put his arm around my shoulders and brought me closer to him so my head rested on his chest. For a long time, we just lay there silently, holding each other. Our pounding hearts slowed and a wonderful peace came over us. Through the window

we watched the sun go down over the city. Soon the thousands and thousands of lights that made the New York skyline so exciting glittered.

He closed his eyes and I closed mine and we fell asleep in each other's arms.

When my eyes snapped open, I was confused for a moment. Jimmy was still asleep. I turned softly so as not to wake him and put on the small lamp on the night stand to look at the clock. Thunderstruck, I felt my head swim. Could that be right?

"Oh Jimmy," I cried, sitting up.

"Huh?" His eyes fluttered open.