I drove slowly along the road following the old man's directions. I went by the brick farm house and came to a tumbled-down cow barn and an old farm house. Just before I crossed a bridge there was a little side road with a hand-lettered sign that I couldn't read because of the foliage. Turning onto this, I came after a couple of hundred yards to a driveway that said, "Private Property, Keep Out."I turned up it anyway and a hundred yards further on, there was a shiny Mercedes parked in a pull off. The road from then on was just a trail. I was going to have to back out. I parked in beside the car and started up the trail. It was four-wheel-drive passable, but that was all. I came into a little clearing. I knew this was the land that I had a deed to, for I had passed the pile of stones that marked the boundary.A few feet in from the trail, the land had been cleared enough for a turn around and a small cabin was started. There were piles of boards and timbers dumped on the ground. I. After another spin or two, in which the course of moving we each gravitate to opposite sides of the small open area, with the familiar final bars of the song, I reel you back in, lifting our arms up and over as you are pulled in close, and with your back to me, I halt, my arm around the front of your waist, holding you. From my pocket I pull the remote one more time, and with a couple touches to the buttons, I douse the lights throughout, including the television, and just leave the sconce lights on low. Breathing a bit quickly, you lean back against me, still with my arm holding you close to my front, and with the change in effects from the lights, you find yourself facing a tall mirror on the wall, a couple feet wide, with a bit of a heavy baroque gilded frame. It stops about 8” from the floor, but is also about 6’ in height. The light is enough to see your reflection, softly, and my broadly smiling visage over your right shoulder. I lean close to your ear, my breath and whispers.
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