The champagne thickened at the back of her throat, and her chest tightened with panic as she waded into the icy water. She breast stroked toward the waterfall, ducking under the veil and into a slender crevice that led to a cave. Too big to squeeze between the rocks, she dove deeply and opened her eyes, seeing only blackness, and crawled forward until her lungs burned. She broke through the surface, and breathed. In the air-filled chamber, moonlight poured through a primitive hole that pierced the cave's ceiling, casting a blue hue over the stalagmites that rose in clusters from the cave floor.
        Caleb swam out to her, wrapping his arm beneath both her arms, pushing his hip against her back, pulling her to the side. Her whole body shook as she pulled herself out of the pool and collapsed, allowing him to lay her across a flat stone, covering her with his own body until her breathing slowed, and his heat warmed her.
        She awoke in his arms, still wondering why he'd married her, and if he could love her as much, if not more, than his first wife.
        “Why me?” she asked.
        “Holding onto Anna Maria was like holding onto a stream of water,” he said.
        Satisfied with his answer, Emma kissed him deeply, surprised by her own boldness. He startled, then kissed her back until she felt light headed. She turned her face away and opened herself to him. He ran a finger along her collarbone and slowly down her sternum, resting his palm softly across her abdomen. He wrapped one arm beneath her, using his own body to cushion her back against their hard, makeshift bed.
        The waterfall echoed outside the cave, and the cave pool lapped and shimmered against the stones around them. He looked into her eyes, and when she flinched from the brief, necessary pain, he pulled away. She closed her eyes, pulled him closer and held on, rising to him. For a moment, her mind detached from her body, mingling images of his frail first wife and the virgin saints with the buxom women forged on the ancient brothel walls, leaving her with one final question: Am I the water or am I the stone? She opened her eyes. The cave had darkened, but she could feel his eyes still upon her face, his hands firmly grasping her back. I am here with him now, she thought. He's not casting toward any absence.
        When it was over, she stood, dove into the spring and swam out of the cave, letting him follow her this time. On the outside, it was nearly daylight, and the morning sun shivered down through the maple and hemlocks. A shaft of light frosted a spider spinning its web on a fallen pine. They dressed each other, repacking the knife, skillet and water glasses. They walked down the mountain and out of the forest.

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