For your reading pleasure, Tempest presents yet another exquisite example of romantic narrative…

Tender Sky
by Harriet Pohl

   No; Dorothy was not pleased. Not at all! Neither the far-off clamour of the playing fields nor the quiet chapel where they had first met impressed her, and it was all because he wasn’t there. Intellectually, she realized that Sophia, the untamed, bloody sensitive genius who had known her in ways even she did not suspect, had a full life in which he was struggling for life in the intensive care ward, and he could not be expected to hold any consideration for the pleasure of one shadowy, burning girl. Intellectually, she knew this. And yet…
   Truly, it had been a most ultramarine day when Michael’s shocking revelation had brought him to her attention.
   Abruptly, a peal of mighty bells shattered her composure into a million unconquered, chelonian pieces! She leapt to her feet with hope — and alarm — in her eyes. Surely it could not be — but it was! At the door, the chelonian and masculine face she had come to know so well! “We marry tonight,” he said while he excitedly began to show her his plans for the villa they were to share. “I need you, Sweet Cheeks!”
   Suddenly, as the music in her heart rose to a new crescendo of happiness, she knew that life without him was unthinkable, if not incendiary. Wthout him, could she ever have started to think about what they would call their children?

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