Louie waited for a few minutes, then said, “Okay.”
We sat around on the blankets for a while.
“How about a campfire?” Louie asked.
I said, “Someone might be looking for us along the road.”
“Yes. I suppose so. How about a little music?”
“Got a radio?” I asked.
“Somethin’ better,” Louie said.
He pulled a harmonica from his pocket, tenderly wrapped his warped fingers and battered knuckles around the instrument, and raised it to his mouth.
It wasn’t the sort of playing I’d expected. I’d been prepared for Home Sweet Home and some of the harmonica classics, but Louie gave us everything. The music which poured forth from that harmonica seemed somehow to blend in with the calm tranquillity of the desert night. It became a part of the darkness, the stretches of silent sand, and the steady stars.
Helen came over to lean against my shoulder. I slipped an arm around her waist. I could feel her steady, regular breathing, the warmth of her cheek, could smell the fragrance of her hair. Her hand stole into mine, slender and soft. I felt her shoulders heave as she took in a deep breath, then gave a long sigh.