Page 39 of Madly Deeply

And yet,and yet I dream.

The fosie touch of one sweet lov’r.

A lazy morn in sheets of linen.

Of pillows tossed and lost again.

While I'm missing allI’m cravin’,

I build my fires, I wait my chance,

For a love to shelter, and for savin’,

A simple waltz, a slow, sweet dance.

The lyrics broughttears to her eyes. The raw emotion in his voice touched something deep inside her and that voice was surprisingly beautiful--much deeper and richer than when the gummies made him sing.

Diners and waiter staff came outside just to listen…

And still,and still I dream.

The fosie touch of yer sweet lovin’.

A lazy morn in sheets of linen.

Of heartbeats lost and found again.

I’ve carvedmy life from blood and field

From sweat and soil and light of day.

But for yer kiss the night I’ll yield

Like morn’ to mist, burn the hours away.

Ye’re all,ye’re all I dream.

The fosie touch of yer sweet hand.

The spark and flash in yer dark eyes

As we find love and love again.

Ignore the lark for lovers’call,

As we make love…and love again.

When the last note faded,the patio erupted in applause. Callum returned to their table, slightly flushed but smiling.

"That was beautiful," she whispered.

He was forced to stand and take another bow before the applause would die.

The rest of dinner passed in a blur of good food and better company. They shared stories about their families, their hopes, their dreams. In gratitude for his singing, the restaurant brought them dessert on the house.

His intelligence matched his humor, and she found herself laughing so hard she couldn't catch her breath--just like she'd laughed while he'd stayed in her house. What kind of idiot would send him packing?

The kind of idiot who just couldn't let go of her dead husband's ghost.

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