The Bavarian Gate By John Dalmas

A month later, when the gate had opened again, he’d gone to find Varia, and on the other side been made a slave by a tribe there, then a shaman’s apprentice, then a soldier. Had been in a war, and found Varia, only to discover she’d remarried. Then he’d married and lost Melody, and returned home again.

They’d stopped on a low bluff overlooking the sparsely lit town, the Pacific stretching in the distance to a horizon seen only by inference, where the stars ended, the blackness becoming sea instead of sky. “And now,” he finished, “you probably think I’m either crazy or the world’s biggest liar.”

She took both his hands. -Curtis,” she said quietly, “I’m not even going to think about it. I’m lad you told me, but the smartest thing for me to do is juste me and let you be you, and see how things develop.

“I see haloes, or auras, and most people, if I told them, would think I was crazy or lying. Of course, another world, with gates to this one, sounds quite a lot stranger than that, and I might never quite believe in it. But I’ll get used to the idea, and that’s more important.”

“I can generally tell when people are lying, by their haloes, and you’re not. And you don’t have bad intentions, either; I can tell that too.”

“As for magical powers–what you did last night was magical enough for me, and that happened! It was real!”

She moved closer to him. “I want you to take me home now. But first I want you to kiss me, because I’m in love with you.” The kiss was soft and lingering, then they turned back down the hill, saying almost nothing at all until they reached her block, when Macurdy could delay no longer. “There’s something I didn’t tell you. Something more important.”

“Yes?”

“Varia said I won’t get old either, till I’m maybe ninety. And that’s kind of how it seems. If she was right, then in fifty years I’ll still look about twenty-five.”

It was Mary’s turn to introvert now. After a long moment she responded: “And I’ll look about sixty-eight.”

They walked on till they reached her front steps, then stopped. “I have a lot to sleep on tonight,” she said. “Perhaps even more than on Saturday. Kiss me again, Curtis. It will help.”

Again they kissed, a kiss cool but slow. “Than you,” she said. “Stop at Sweiger’s tomorrow when I’m at work, and we’ll make another date.” They stood a couple of feet apart, holding hands between them. “And before you go to sleep tonight,” she added, “remind yourself that I love you.”

He did. He also told himself that each woman he’d loved had been very special-better, it seemed to him just then, than he deserved.

The next day dawned drizzly. He arrived at Sweiger’s just before 2 PM, and walked Mary home, both of them wearing raincoats. This time when they reached her porch, she didn’t offer to kiss him. Instead she looked him in the eye and said, “Curtis, will you marry me?”

He stared. “Do you mean it?”

“Dammit, if I didn’t, would I ask? Let’s try it again. Will you marry me?”

It took him a moment to answer. “Yes, Mary, I’ll marry you. I just it’s hard to believe this is happening. I’ll be very happy to marry you, and I’ll be a good husband.” As I was to Varia and Melody. Oh God, let this one last. Let it go on a long time.

“When?” she asked. “When will you marry me?” Now she didn’t seem like a determined young woman at all. She stood like a young girl, straight-backed, brave, hopeful, vulnerable.

“Soon,” he said. “We need to get the license, the blood tests, a preacher … You need to decide whether you want a lot of people there, a big party-keeping the expense in mind. It could be in a week, I’d think, or maybe a month.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll meet you after I get off tomorrow. If you can get off, too.”

Then, though it was daylight, she kissed him before turning and going inside.