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'And do they have to know? . . .'

January, 1999
Sydney, Australia
Around midnight

Taylor smiled.

He watched the fire in the sand die down. The flames grew smaller and smaller, es grew smaller and smaller falling back into the burning red embers, nestled in black ash. The waves pounded the shore, serenading the smoke rising up into the dark, empty sky, where he was sure she was watching him. In the flames, he could see her. There she sat on her knees, on the smooth ledge, which protruded from the mountaintop, looking up at the clouds. Her long dark hair billowed out behind her, dancing on the wind. The white gown she wore looked like it was woven from the silken strands of a spider's web. She could not have looked any more perfect even if she'd grown wings.

Taylor smiled.

He couldn't see her face, but he knew it was glowing, as if lit from an inner fire. She loved nature. How often had he gone out looking for her, searching everywhere, only to find her sitting on the edge of a small outcrop, looking out over the Arkansas River? It was on a hill in his own backyard, if you could call it a backyard. 'Property' was more the word. That outcrop was, once hers, and now his, favourite spot on the whole two and half acres of 'backyard'. They'd sit together in companionable silence, watching the sun sparkling off the water. How much had she taught him just by sitting there and not saying a word? More than he'd realised. She'd let him sit with her; she'd let him talk to himself, in his head. Stillness was a pleasure to him now. Sitting, watching, listening, thinking. Just like now.

Slowly, his eyes began to focus again. All those teen magazines did manage to get one thing right about him. He was a dreamer; happy to spend every minute - every minute he wasn't making music - locked in his head. Or with his nose buried in a book. 'Emergency exits' she'd called them. And that's what they were. They were his escape hatches. As soon as something got too heavy to handle, his way of coping was grabbing a book and losing himself for a few hours. She'd known this, long before he had. She had to have known; she was the one who'd shown him what his favourite past-times really were, what everyone's were. An escape from the pressures of the real world. And she hadn't spoken a single word . . .

Forcing himself out of his head and back into reality, he saw that both the fire and the wind had died down. Everything was calm and still. And quiet. The ocean made barely a breath of noise as it silently rode the tide back and forth along the shore. The night was humid, but it was cool on the beach, and the scent of the sea was enchanting. It was so peaceful here. Almost as peaceful as her valley.

Pulling off his coat, he set it out across the sand and lay down. He was suddenly very tired. Right now, sleep seemed like the sweetest pleasure of all. His last thought, before the welcome darkness washed over him, was of her, sitting on the mountain ledge, watching him. An unconscious whisper escaped his lips.
"Good night Rhiannon,"

Taylor smiled.

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