Memories of Gold by Ali Olson Page A

have hoped for.
    Once he was dressed and had eaten and packed a small bag for the day, he left, heading to the caves. She would most likely make the trek hours later, though they had not set a specific time, but he needed time to walk and think, and it was a beautiful warm morning.
    He strode with rapid movements out of the town center, happy to get into the fields and grasses that surrounded Shasta. He never felt quite as much like his childhood self as when he walked through open spaces and breathed the fresh clean air, not yet stale from bodies and horses. In San Francisco, he was an adult, and for a very good reason, but there was something refreshing about wandering through the open country.
    The caves were only a short distance from his boarding house, so he was still full of energy when he arrived. Setting his bag carefully on the ground, he hiked above the caves and looked out into the distance toward the town. The houses and buildings and other trappings of town life spread out before him, tiny and indefinite.
    Then he spotted something that grabbed his attention: a small, dark-haired figure in a yellow dress, walking in his direction. His heart leapt; it had to be Maria, far earlier than he had expected. He began to climb down, eager to see her, and reached the mouth of their cave as she arrived.
    “I didn’t expect you to be here quite this early. It seems you managed to change your habit of sleeping through the loveliest part of the day. You must have started going to sleep at a reasonable hour at some point.”
    She didn’t answer, but he took no notice. He was already turning to the cave mouth, studying it. “How many times do you think we got lost in there, sure we would never see the light of day?”
    “A hundred or more, most likely,” she responded in a strained voice.
    He turned and studied her for the first time; there were dark circles under her eyes that had not been there the day before, and she looked fatigued. He led her to a nearby rock under the shade of a giant tree—a chair they had shared many a time as children—and helped her onto it, hoping a rest would restore her spirits. He sat next to her, the rock too small for both of them as adults, so their bodies pressed together. He felt the thrill of their closeness, but forced his attention to stay on his concerns. “Are you well, Maria?”
    She smiled, and her beauty shone through the mask of exhaustion that covered her face. “Yes, just tired. I…didn’t get much sleep last night.”
    He noted her stammer. She was so exhausted, she even found it difficult to speak. Wanting to touch her, to comfort her somehow, he placed his hand on hers and spoke in low voice. “You should get some sleep. We can do this another day.”
    She shook her head in that defiant way he knew so well. “You must work tomorrow, and who knows how much time you will have free after that? And if you leave in a week or so, we might be separated for years again. I want to store up every moment I have with you.”
    Jimmy nodded, somber for a moment. He had spent many of his waking moments thinking about the same thing and working up the courage to speak his mind. This was as good a time as any.
    When he spoke, he tried to make his voice lighthearted, like this was a friendly gesture and nothing more, no matter what his heart said. “If I leave, you should consider coming with me. Many people love San Francisco.”
    Her pause and the grimace that crossed her face told him all he needed to know, and he felt his soul sink. Quietly, she muttered, “I can’t. This is my home.”
    The last part sounded unconvincing. He tried not to let his disappointment show. Until that moment, he hadn’t realized how much he wanted her to say yes.
    Her fingers touched his, squeezing for a moment. “It’s hard to explain, Jimmy. I want to, but I can’t.”
    His heart lifted a little at that. She sounded genuine, and her fingers touched his so lovingly that his hope rekindled.