She slipped from under the covers, trying not to wake him. She grabbed her robe from the armchair and tiptoed to the door. She eased it shut behind her and headed for the bathroom. She stood under the shower and thought about the last few days. It was amazing that either of them got any work done, but incredibly they did.

She smiled to herself as she thought of the look on Howie's face when she had come in from the patio the day before. She had been going over some pages with the dreaded highlighter.

"I wrote a song," he said, his eyes twinkling.

"Well, I should hope so. That's what you're here for."

"No, I mean I wrote a new one...today...a whole song."

"Wow! That's great! Is it in English or Spanish?"

"It's in English, but it's not for my CD."

Natalie piled the papers beside her computer. "What's it for, then?"

"I'll sell this one...to a country singer...a woman."

"You wrote a country song? For a woman?"

Howie laughed. "I know. It's strange. Maybe it's the surroundings. Will you listen to it?"

"Of course," she answered. Listening to him sing had become the best part of her day...well, the second best part.

She sat across from him and watched while he strummed a chord and tuned a string. She remembered how irritated that made her in the beginning, that it seemed to take him so long to get started, but now she just saw it as an opportunity to study his beautiful hands.

"Okay, picture me as Faith Hill," he said, laughing.

Natalie scrunched up her nose and closed her eyes. Then she opened them, one at a time. Nope, couldn't picture that.

Howie grinned at her and picked out the opening notes. "It's a cheatin', hurtin' song," he said, with a nasal twang. He began to sing.

He sang about how much it hurt when someone left you, but that you could get over it.

"I tore up all your pictures
And I flushed them down the john.
I gave your clothes to Goodwill.
Your favorite shirt is gone"

He sang about ice cream and slippers and moving on with your lifeand moving past the one who hurt you.

"And now she's thrown you over
And you're heading back this way
You're sorry and you'll do better
Here's all I've got to say..."

Howie flashed her a grin. She smiled back. Something was coming.

"I'd get change for a nickel
If I paid you what you're worth
And I wouldn't take you back
If you were the last man on Earth."

Natalie burst out laughing.

"Noooooooooooo..." continued Howie, dragging out the note, "I wouldn't take you back...sing it with me now..."

Natalie joined in. "...if you were the last man on Earth."

They stared at each other for a moment and then they laughed.

"It's wonderful," said Natalie. "What a concept!" What a gift, is what she was thinking. What a beautiful, precious gift! She didn't care if he sold it or if it never got played again. He had written it for her. She took his guitar and set it carefully aside. Then she straddled his lap and took his head in her hands. She kissed his forehead and his eyelids and his cheekbones. Then their hands got busy and they left a trail of clothes from the sofa to the bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was Friday now. Natalie whisked some eggs together. She was going to make an omelet when Howie got up. She surveyed the contents of the refrigerator. They were getting low on a few things, but she figured they had enough to last them to Sunday. She could go to town and shop on Monday, after he was gone.

After he was gone. A queasy tickle ran through her stomach. She would miss him, she knew that. But she would be okay. He had made sure of that. He had healed her. Well, he had helped her heal herself. Even better.

They hadn't gone to town since their condom foray six days ago. She wondered what the good citizens of Big Timber, Montana would think when she showed up on Monday for groceries with a big ol' grin plastered on her face.

She took the notepad from the basket and started making a list. She added 'book to library'. She must remember to return Howie's book. After he was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You can't put that."

"Pardon?" Natalie looked up from her pages. Howie was standing at her story board. It was Friday afternoon.

"You can't put that. That the schoolteacher is from Boston."

"Why not?" asked Natalie.

"Because you said before that she had a Midwest accent." He turned to look at her. She was staring at him, open-mouthed. "There's no way anyone from Boston would sound like they were from the Midwest. And no one would ever confuse them..." His voice tapered off.

"Where? What?"

"In chapter ten or eleven...when the teacher is at the restaurant and the waitress comes over. You say that the waitress hears the voice before she sees the customer and it's a Midwest accent."

Natalie rose to her feet. Howie bit his lip. "I've been reading it," he confessed sheepishly. "Whenever you go for a walk or a nap, the first thing I do is read your new pages." He smiled. "It's good. I really like it." He had to stop talking for a while until she released his mouth, and then he said, "but the schoolteacher can't be from Boston."

"Okay," said Natalie, undoing his shirt buttons.

And much later, they had a long discussion about her book and his music and the creative process and all the important things in their life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And now it was Sunday.

Howie was folding his clothes and packing them neatly in his suitcase.

"Don't forget these," said Natalie. Howie turned to see her holding a stack of socks and boxers. "From the dryer," she said.

He took them from her without a word and turned back to his task. He felt her leave the room. Man, this had truly been six days of heaven. He just hoped it wasn't going to be a few minutes of hell at the end. Not for her, she could handle it, he knew. But he was a sentimental sort, and he hoped he didn't cry.

He thought about the walks they had taken, and the conversations they'd had. He thought about her words and his music and their sweet, sweet passion for each other. He smiled as he thought about her reaction when he made her write down the word 'idyllic' for him. He knew that once he'd seen it, he'd know how to spell it forever. And it was a word he thought he needed to describe his time with her.

He thought about what she'd said about memories turning good and bad. The two days they had spent cabin-bound in the rain even looked good to him now. They had laughed about that last night and this morning, he had found her highlighter sitting beside his mug of tea. It had a ribbon tied around it and a neat, little bow.

"To remember me by," she said with a smile.

"But don't you need this?" he asked, more touched than he should have been.

"I have more," she said, laughing.

He looked at his watch. It was time to go.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Natalie paced the floor in the living room. Get a grip, get a grip, she told herself. Get that smile on. He's going to come out of that room and you are going to say goodbye with a smile. You can do it. He can do it and you can do it. Nothing, nothing, nothing could be allowed to wreck what they had had. It had been... She smiled to herself. It had been idyllic.

Making love. Oh, that had been so special. They had gone through a lot of condoms! But the best part was afterward, laying together, sated and content, basking in each other's glow...Okay, maybe you want to think about something else, Nat!

She thought about their dinner the night before. They made it together, of course. They worked amazingly well in the kitchen together. And after they'd eaten and done the dishes, Howie had put on some music and they had danced. They had floated together for a long time and then she kissed his neck and then he kissed hers and then... Okay, we're back to that.

She tried to think of something that they had done this week that wouldn't bring her thoughts back to that, but she couldn't. It was all intertwined in her head - their work, their play, their passion. Six days of heaven. And now goodbye. It was time for him to go.

Howie came out of his bedroom, already talking, filling up the air with words. "...flight leaves at eleven, hope the weather's good..."

He went out the front door with his suitcase. His briefcase and guitar were already standing by the door. Natalie stepped out onto the porch and watched him put the suitcase in the car. He came back and moved past her to get the other things. She wanted to touch him, but she folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the post. He slammed the trunk and opened the door to the car. Neither would survive a kiss. Thank God they both knew it.

"So..." he began.

"So..." she answered.

He took a deep breath and looked around. "Nice day. Maybe you can get out a bit later."

"Maybe. I'm thinking of going to town for ice cream."

His eyes widened. Oh no! Then he saw the corners of her mouth turn up. She shook her head. She would be okay. He nodded at her and got into the car. She lifted one hand and waggled her fingers at him. He waved back and put the car in gear. He turned it around and drove down the driveway. As he disappeared into the trees, he looked into the rearview mirror. She was still standing at the post, arms folded, smiling, watching him drive off.

Howie shook his head and moved his jaw back and forth in exaggerated mouth movements. It took him all the way to the end of the road before he knew he wasn't going to cry. He turned onto the county road and headed for Butte.