hout blinking.

"good-bye, ma petite, " matthew said, stooping to scratch her ears.

we'd decided to leave from the hop barn. it was quiet, with no vestiges of modern life to serve as distractions. we moved through the apple orchard and over the frost- covered grass in our bare feet, the cold quickening our steps. when matthew pul ed open the barn door, my breath was visible in the chil y air.

"it's freezing." i drew my smock closer, teeth chattering.

"there wil be a fire when we arrive at the old lodge," he said, handing me the earring.

i put the thin wire through the hole in my ear and held my hand out for the goddess. matthew dropped her into my palm.

"what else?"

"wine, of course-red wine." matthew handed me the book and folded me into his arms, planting a firm kiss on my forehead.

"where are your rooms?" i shut my eyes, remembering the old lodge.

"upstairs, on the western side of the courtyard, overlooking the deer park."

"and what wil it smel like?"

"like home," he said. "wood smoke and roasted meat from the servants' dinner, beeswax from the candles, and the lavender used to keep the linens fresh."

"can you hear anything special?"

"nothing at al . just the bel s from st. mary's and st.

michael's, the crackle of the fires, and the dogs snoring on the stairs."

"how do you feel when you're there?" i asked, concentrating on his words and the way they in turn made me feel.

"i've always felt . . . ordinary at the old lodge," matthew said softly. "it's a place where i can be myself."

a whiff of lavender swirled through the air, out of time and place in a madison hop barn in october. i marveled at the scent and thought of my father's note. my eyes were ful y open to the possibilities of magic now.

"what wil we do tomorrow?"

"we'l walk in the park," he said, his voice a murmur and his arms iron bands around my ribs. "if the weather's fine, we'l go riding. there won't be much in the gardens this time of year. there must be a lute somewhere. i'l teach you to play, if you'd like."

another scent-spicy and sweet-joined with the lavender, and i saw a tree laden with heavy, golden fruit. a hand stretched up, and a diamond winked in the sunlight, but the fruit was out of reach. i felt frustration and the keen edge of desire, and i was reminded of emily's tel ing me that magic was in the heart as wel as the mind.

"is there a quince in the garden?"

"yes," matthew said, his mouth against my hair. "the fruit wil be ripe now."

the tree dissolved, though the honeyed scent remained.

now i saw a shal ow silver dish sitting on a long wooden table. candles and firelight were reflected in its burnished surface. piled inside the dish were the bright yel ow quinces that were the source of the scent. my fingers flexed on the cover of the book i held in the present, but in my mind they closed on a piece of fruit in the past.

"i can smel the quinces." our new life in the old lodge was already cal ing to me. "remember, don't let go-no matter what." with the past everywhere around me, the possibility of losing him was al that was frightening.

"never," he said firmly.

"and lift up your foot and then put it down again when i tel you."

he chuckled. "i love you, ma lionne." it was an unusual response, but it was enough.

home, i thought.

my heart tugged with longing.

an unfamiliar bel tol ed the hour.

there was a warm touch of fire against my skin.

the air fil ed with scents of lavender, beeswax, and ripe quince.

"it's time." together we lifted our feet and stepped into the unknown.