The Lake Cottage – Part 2: Sauna and Stars

By the sixth day, the silence had changed.

It wasn't empty anymore. It was full of small things: the plop of a fish, the whisper of the birches, the creak of the oars. They had rowed to every bay. They had picked blueberries until their fingers were blue. They had slept late and eaten when hungry and talked about nothing.

On the last evening, Mikko lit the sauna.

The little hut by the shore filled with soft heat and the smell of birch. They sat on the cedar bench in the dim light, shoulders touching, sweat running down their backs. Liisa ladled water onto the stones and steam rose in a hot white breath.

"I forgot this," she said.

"The sauna?"

"Us. Without a timetable."

"I'm sorry I forgot."

"I forgot too."

When they were hot to the bone, they ran down the jetty and leapt into the cold, shrieking, and came up gasping and laughing. The sky was a deep, glowing violet, the lake flat and silver. A single star pricked out above the pines.

They wrapped themselves in towels and sat on the end of the jetty, legs dangling over the water. Steam rose from their skin. The night was perfectly still.

"Can I ask you something?" said Mikko.

"Yes."

"May I kiss my wife?"

"Yes," said Liisa. "And if I say stop, you must push me in the lake again."

"I'd do it with pleasure."

He kissed her, slow and warm, lake water cool on both their lips. She wound her arms round his neck. The kiss was tender and wholly unhurried, sixteen years deep, tasting of birch smoke and cold water. The stars came out one after another over the pines.

When they parted, both of them were smiling.

"Green?" he asked.

"Green," said Liisa. "Very green."

In October, they borrowed the cottage again, for a long weekend. They did not bring the dog. They did not need to.

More married couple romance: The Cruise · Couples Retreat · The Second Honeymoon