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"I guess so," he said His eyes wandered and then settled on the phonograph "You want to hear one of those old records?" he asked

"Yes, I would like that," I said If we got our minds off our predicaht

He rose and picked out a record The er's voice was so high-pitched I smiled

"Music was sure different in those days," Harley said "The words were nice though"

He put on another and we listened It was a song in French Neither of us could understand it, but we knehatever it was about was sad

"Who's the singer on that one Harley?" I asked when it ended He read the label

"Edith Piaf"

"Play it again," I said He shrugged and did so Then he came to sit beside me to listen He put his arm around my shoulders and I leaned into his chest and closed my eyes He kissed me on the forehead and I looked up at him Maybe it was because of the music or because of what had happened to us, but his eyes were two dark pools of deep sorrow and pain I hated to see him so sad

I reached up and with the tips of ers touched his lips He took ers The tingle traveled down my arm to my breast and curled over my heart

"You're so lovely Summer, even now, even here, even after all that's happened When I look at you I feel so happy inside that I forget everything terrible around me It's always been like that for me"

"Harley," I whispered

He lifted ently and turned me so he could lower his lips toa key that opened the lock to my heart and soul He shifted and lowered me to the sofa

"This itches," he co to the sweater, and pulled it off

I s to tap faste

r He sprawled out beside er I turned into hi him to me He kissed my eyes, my nose and my neck