Pete’s eyes flutter open as cool droplets of rain fall upon his face. Everything is blurry, confusing. He squints through the streaks and droplets clinging to his glasses. 

He’s outside. When did he go outside?

Raindrops splash on the top of his head, reminding him of his expanding bald spot and matting his thinning, scraggly hair as he gazes ahead. He’s standing alone in a clearing, staring into a thick, dark forest just a few meters before him. The tall, wet grass clings uncomfortably to his soggy shoes and pants. Everything is so grey --the ground, the trees, the endless clouds above-- so colourless, and it’s so cold.

Pete shivers, tendrils of frosty vapour coiling about his nostrils and rough-shaven mouth, his lower lip slack and plump.  

He doesn’t want to be here. He wants to be home.

“Where am I?” he asks. His frail voice is almost lost in the patter of the rain.

From behind him, beside him, around him, a voice --feminine, warm-- speaks, “Where you’re supposed to be.”

Slowly turning his head left then right, he sees no one and returns to gazing into the forest.  

“It’s so cold,” he says. “Why am I here?”

Soft laughter tickles his ear. 

“Because you’re supposed to be here...” responds the voice as a young woman slips around him into his view, “... with me.”

The first thing Pete sees is her smile -- gentle, easy as if a breeze had settled it upon her pretty, freckled face.  She’s also wet, her wavy brunette hair weighed down by the rain past her shoulders, strands clinging to her cheeks and forehead.  Yet, she doesn’t seem to mind. It doesn’t even bother her that her white blouse is practically sheer, and Pete avoids looking too long at the circles of her pert, dark nipples pressed beneath the wet fabric.

He notes that she’s in a pair of cut off jean shorts, her exposed, long legs slicked wet by the rain. She’s barefoot, as well, yet there’s not a tinge of trouble or concern in her fresh face.

“You’re not cold?” he asks, even as he thinks that she looks anything but cold: vibrant, carefree,  alive. 

She shakes her head as she stands before him. “It’s refreshing. Are you?” she asks, and casually reaches out and cups her supple palm against his wrinkled cheek.

Pete hesitates as her thumb caresses just above his whiskers. He was shivering just a moment ago. As he gazes dreamily at her, he can only think of one reply: “No.”

The young woman smiles with a crescent curve of her eyes, a cool green like a sweet, untravelled meadow. It’s the first colour Pete has noticed since he found himself in the clearing.  

He reaches for her hand, holds it against his cheek for a moment, then removes it.  Once again, he shivers.

“But, I don’t like being outside,” he says, wearily looking around.  “I don’t want to be here.”

Her smile softens but doesn’t fade. A blush of pink colours her cheeks as she tilts her head aside and says, “Oh, Pete.”

He senses it’s a playful scolding and asks, “Who are you?”

“You know.”

His chin moves forward and he peers through the rain streaking his glasses. Shaking his head slowly, he says, “I don’t.”

She steps backwards, her hands behind her back, pinching her lower lip with her teeth teasingly as she smiles. “You do.”

“Where…” Pete watches her as she moves away, moves towards the forest, “... where are you going?”

Still smiling, she turns around and casually strolls into the thick trees and brush.

“Miss?” he calls to her. “You shouldn’t go in there. It’s too dark. You’ll hurt yourself, your feet.”

Within a couple of breaths, the forest has already closed around her.  

Pete is alone in the clearing again. He looks around anxiously, then down towards his feet. He has shoes and pants and a long sleeve shirt to protect him from clawing branches and sharp rocks and cold mud. 

But he’s old, and heavy, and tired, and aching.  

And he wants to go home.

From deep within the gloomy forest the sound of laughter echoes through the air.  It pulls at the hairs upon his chest and the back of his neck and, to his reluctant dismay, draws him forward.  He drags his feet --his shoes now sopping wet-- through the cold grass and stops at the edge of the forest.

“Miss?” he pleads, his lips trembling. “I need to go home.”

“I’ll bring you back.” Her voice calls from somewhere in the wilderness.

Compelled by her cajoling beckoning, Pete pushes aside the branches and bushes and enters the forest. His progress is slow, baby-steps, practically, as he inches forward at first. He turns his head away from the sticks and leaves that grasp at his face, and he walks with his hands outstretched like a blind man without a cane.

His heart is racing and his breaths exhale with a subtle whimper. He feels so lost.

“Where am I?” he asks again.

“You’re with me.” The young woman appears before him, peeking out from behind a tree, just a few meters away but with so much foliage and crisscrossing branches between them, she may as well be a mile ahead. She giggles and disappears again.

“Wait,” Pete calls to her and pushes his way through. He arrives at the tree where she had appeared but she’s no longer there. He does find, however, her white blouse on the ground.

When he picks it up and holds it in his fingers, he frowns. The shirt is soft, white… and dry. Pete looks up, blinking, and realizes the rain has stopped. He removes his glasses to wipe them on his shirt.  When he puts them back up and gazes upward toward the tall trees he sees… colour. A multitude of dark green leaves shifts and rustles above him, flecks of shimmering light from the sky breaching through the cracks in the vast canopy.  

For a moment, Pete is mesmerized, stunned. It had just been raining, hadn’t it?

“Pete. You’re almost there,” the young woman calls to him. “You’re almost back.”

He sets off once more, a little faster, a little more confident and bold. The shrubs and branches seem to part as he moves through them, opening a path.  The ground beneath his feet feels more firm as his strides lengthen. Fresh, clean, earthy air fills his lungs, reviving his body and mind and spirit.  

He hears her laughter, her sweet voice just ahead of him.  Pete’s pace quickens. The daunting challenge to find her now becomes an inspired chase.  His eyes narrow and he realizes that his glasses have fallen off. It doesn’t matter. He’s seeing as clearly as he has ever had. The forest is vibrant, alive. The dust of time that had muted his senses brushes away and suddenly they’re in overdrive taking in everything the forest has to offer.  

There it is. He sees the end. It appears as a bright golden light through the bushes and trees. Pete charges towards it as it intensifies, flaring before him, shining till it almost fills his widened eyes with a white glow.  

Then he stops.  

As the light subsides, he finds himself in another clearing in front of a sparkling lake. He’s breathing hard, but not from exhaustion, though. It’s excitement he feels, a type he had long forgotten. 

“My God,” Pete gasps as he scans the serenity nature unfolded before him, “it’s beautiful.”

“Pete.” The woman emerges into his view at the edge of the lake. She’s nude, covering herself with her hands.  A silent breeze lifts and teases her soft brunette hair aside as the sun kisses her creamy flesh. 

As he is with the world around him, Pete is in awe of her presence, her calmness and beauty like a balm on his tired heart. 

With a smile, she raises her arms forward and opens her hands to him. “Come to me.”

As Pete takes a step towards her, he reaches down to pull off his shirt, then hesitates. For a moment, he regards her standing there, her body bare and beautiful, fully comfortable and at ease with herself. She belongs here, in this world of natural splendour and vitality. 

A flicker of uncertainty curdles in his gut.

“It’s alright,” she said, waving him forward with her fingers. “Come here.”

With eyes down and away, he pushes himself towards her, stepping out of his shoes, discarding his shirt before he meets her by the lakeside. 

Once more, he feels her gentle hands wrapping around his face, raising his eyes to meet hers. As if she can see his doubt in her bright green eyes, she nods and says with placid certainty, “You do belong here, with me.”

With that, she turns his head toward the lake and down to the calm waters at his feet.

A whispering gasp shudders past Pete’s lips. He blinks rapidly, but what he sees could never be more clear. A young man stares back up at him from the water, eyes widened in disbelief.  His body is lean, strong, his face smooth, his skin bronzed from the sun. He runs his fingers through a tangled shag of thick blonde hair and chuckles softly.

“I remember you,” Pete says quietly, and looks up to the woman. He raises his hands towards the woman --the wrinkles and pain in his fingers no longer there-- and touches her cheeks with his fingertips. “I remember you.”

She places her hands on his and holds them at her face as the two of them move closer together.

Pete tastes the sweetness upon her lips the moment they kiss, as if she had glossed them with milk and honey.  He savours her mouth, the little pokes of her tongue, like an elixir every touch a reawakening of dormant desires and urges.  

As they continue to kiss, her hands draw downward along his bare chest and belly. He feels her fingers work the button on his pants and pull down his zipper, and steps back only for a moment to help her remove the rest of his clothing before resuming their kisses.  

“Join me in the water, Pete,” she breathes, and he obediently follows as she leads him by the hand into the shallows of the lake.

Pete feels the cool mud and moss and smooth stones massaging his feet as the water laps at his thighs. He watches, fascinated by the woman, as she lowers herself under the water for a moment then rises back up before him, wiping her face with her hands. Water runs off her nude body, leaving a shimmering sheen on her skin. Her gentle giggling sends a ripple through his heart.

Pete recalls tales he read as a boy of water nymphs who played and taunted young men on the shore. As a child, he always thought the stories were too fantastic, too unbelievable.  Now, he only too easily loses himself in the role of the wayward lad, entranced in the presence of his own personal siren. He doesn’t move as she reaches down to scoop water in her hands and pour it over his head. The playful act washes away the last of his doubts, as the refreshing, clean water runs down his face and neck.  

He laughs with her before coming together in another kiss. He wraps his arms around her, his motions bold and strong, and presses their bare bodies together with compelling intent. He feels her breasts cushion against his chest and immediately he wants to taste them, pushing them up with his hands to meet his mouth and tongue.

As he savours her nipples with licks and sucks, he gasps at her touch as her fingers and palm wrap around his cock. With a gentle motion, she strokes him steadily and his length immediately responds, reinvigorated to hard, erect attention.

She lifts his face up by the chin and looks at him with a steady gaze of her green eyes. “I want you to remember everything, Pete,” she says, and slowly lowers herself down, kneeling in the water.

Pete is breathing hard again, his heart is pounding hard again, but this time he revels in it. As he feels her warm, soft lips and tongue passing over his shaft, he sways in the water as if in a trance. His hands on her head and shoulder, he tilts his head back, his lips parted by his intensifying breaths, and he blinks and looks upward. As she continues to caress him with her mouth, he feels like he’s flying into the wide-open, gorgeous blue sky above him, racing towards the energizing sun.

Taking the lead now, he guides her to the deeper water while they continue to kiss.  He holds her close, their warm bodies together blocking out the chill of the lake water. They bob along with Pete carrying her, his toes bouncing off the floor of the lake. He raises her high, his hands holding her along her soft, round bottom as her legs wrap around his torso, and gazes up into her eyes.  

“I remember you,” he repeats and she smiles. “My Delilah.”

With that, he eases her down slowly.  Her eyes roll up as her lashes flutter, but the smile remains as she settles over his stiff cock. They sigh together, kissing at the end of their breath.  As the calm waters carries them along, Pete eases her up and down, up and down, her warmth clenched tightly around him, stimulating a throb in his length that pulses in rhythm with his revitalized heart.

He groans and gasps, and presses face into her wet neck.  He inhales, the fragrance upon her skin of lake water and pine filling his lungs. 

“Pete,” she whispers, a soft ache in her voice. Her tender moans mingled with the sound of the breeze and rustling leaves tickle at his ears.

His strokes deepen, his thrusts more assured with each passing moment.  From his core through to his fingers and toes, he feels the strength of the world around him. He offers it all to the woman he holds in his arms just as she did when she led him through the forest, led him back here.  

Their foreheads touching, she says to him, “Look at me, Pete.”

His eyes open and lock onto hers, witnessing the beautiful strain in her blushing face. He feels her soft thighs tightening around him and the warm, quickening breaths from her parted lips against his face. He’s suddenly aware of the resounding throb in his shaft and it becomes almost unbearable, but he struggles to hold on. He doesn’t want this to end.
 

“It’s alright,” she breathes, stroking his cheeks, “let it go.”

“But…”

“Don’t worry. It’s not the end,” she says. “You’re home.”

At her reassuring words, his whole body clenches. Pete freezes in the water, holding her tight, his fingers digging into her supple bottom.  A surge flows from his core and spurts out with impossible satisfaction from his rigid cock. He fills her as she gasps and shudders announcing her own orgasmic release.  

Spent, but not exhausted, they kiss once more. The cool lake water continues to carry them without struggle or care. Pete feels no urgency, no rush, and knows he has much time as he wants to be here, outside on this lake, to hold and savour and be with Delilah.

-0-

With sullen countenance, Steven holds the nondescript urn containing Pete’s ashes as he stands in his living room.

His wife stands behind him, her hand on his shoulder and asks, “Is this right, not honouring his last request?”

Steven frowns and shakes his head.  “Do you really want to drive north for six hours and find some coordinates in the wilderness to scatter his ashes in the middle of some lake? God knows if he even actually remembered where it was. I doubt he was thinking straight when he wrote that request down on a random piece of paper.”

“I suppose…”

“It was over fifty years ago Pete went planting trees with a bunch of hippie strangers for one week. It was probably the longest stretch of time he spent outdoors.”  

His wife sighs and offers no further comment.

“My brother spent his entire life alone in his tiny apartment because that’s where he stubbornly always wanted to be. I don’t want to think of him being alone in the middle of nowhere for the rest of eternity. He’s here with us, with family,” Steven says firmly, placing the urn on the mantle. “He’s home, where he’s supposed to be.”  

-0-

Somewhere, between beyond and forever, Pete floats blissfully upon the crystal waters of a peaceful lake. It took a while, but he found it again, remembered it again. It’s where the sky is always wide and blue. It’s where the sun is always warm and bright upon his face. It’s where the trees are always silent and tall watching over him. It’s where Delilah is always beside him, floating hand-in-hand. 

It’s where he is always supposed to be.