PROLOGUE..

Days lost,I know not how,

I shall retrieve them now;

Now i shall keep the vow,

i never kept before..

-- A.E. Housman

I was born in Mine Brook, New

Jersey, a small towm so named for the

copper mines that once sustained it,

and my story begins in one of those

mines.

By the time I was growing up, the

mines were long defunct, but my

parents warned my brother and me

not to play in certain woods where

old shafts occasionally collapsed.

Those woods had a dead, cobwebbed

look about them; nobody went there,

and in autumn the leaves piled high

above mysterious dangers.

But like most children, I suspected

my parents' warnings were idle.

They probably wanted to stop

us from crossing Main Street-

a lost cause already, since the best

rollerblading hills surrounded the

Catholic church across the road.

At the age of ten, I decided I

absolutely needed a dog and my

mother said no, so I ran away from

home. I packed a bottle of water,

a bag of Wonder Bread, my Bible,

and a flashlight, and I snuck out

at midnight. I cut across three

adjoining backyards and followed

the creek where my brother and I

liked to play. I didn't cross over Main

Street; I went under it, beneath the

stone bridge, into the woods.

I walked and walked, my childish

anger diminishing as I grew colder,

and I was beginning to think of

turning back when the ground

opened under me. Stale air and

moldering leaves whooshed up.

The fall sucked my scream into the

night and I struck a slanted, sliding

surface. My backpack padded my

landing, but it also knocked the wind

out of me.

I clutched a root and wheezed

painfully. Down there, everything

was dark and damp and loose.

Tomblike air exhaled from deep in

the earth. Tears soaked into a gash

on my cheek and my arms and legs

ached in a dozen places.

"Help!" I shouted.

I called for my mother and father,

my brother, anyone, until my voice

was ragged.

Gradually, my eyes adjusted to

the darkness and I saw that I

was perched on an earthen ledge

supported by rotting beams and

rocks. I shifted closer to the wall and

eased my Bible out of my backpack.

My parents and church had told me

that the book could save me, and

while I was too young to really take

to any faith, I knew I needed saving.

That was how he found me: Sitting

in a collapsed mineshaft and reading

the Book of Ruth by flashlight.

"Don't be afraid," he called.

Despite the injunction, I jumped.

Rocks skittered down the shaft,

clattering and echoing. I turned

my flashlight toward the voice.

The beam caught his face before he

shielded it: Stricken, pale-eyed, with

a dark sweep of hair.

"Don't move. Turn that off. I'm coming to get you."

I obeyed with shaking hands.

Darkness swarmed in as I clicked off

the light and I closed my eyes. Better

the darkness you know. Above me

came the sounds of shifting leaves

and boots scraping rock. Then his

arm was around me, pressing me

pressing me into his side.

"Thank God," he said. "Hold on to me."

I wrapped my limbs around

him the way I did when I played

bucking bronco with my brother,

and like my brother the man was

warm and solid. We left behind

the odor of decay and colder air

of the mineshaft. Hand over hand,

smoothly, he ascended, and when he

boosted himself onto the forest floor

I opened my eyes.

He carried me away from the hole and set me on my feet.

Then he crouched and hugged me,

hard, the same way he had grasped

me in the collapsed earth, and I

began to cry. The fear of death stays

away from youth, but the man was

a stranger, I knew I would be in

trouble at home, my body hurt, and

I sensed dimly that I had brushed

against something monumental.

"Stop. You're safe now. Oh, Leda,

thank God," he repeated earnestly.

He dried my tears with a soft sleeve

and pried the flashlight and Bible

from my hands. He glanced at the

items before zipping them into my

backpack. "What were you doing?

Why are you out here?"

"I ran avway.

"Why?" he demanded.

"My mom won't let me have a dog." I

sniffled one last time. My harrowing

encounter notwithstanding, I still felt

justified in running away. I even felt

a blow of disappointment because

my half-formed plan had failed and

there would be no dog.

"Tm taking you home," the man

said. He lifted me again and I clung

to him. This time, I was aware of his

wintery scent-firewood and pine

-and the way his hair touched my

fingers at the nape of his neck. I

never thought to question how he

knew my name or where I lived. He

retraced my path unerringly, past the creek

through the yards.

After a while, he laughed.

"She won't let you have a dog," he

said.

"No. She says they make the house

dirty. I want one so much, to train."

When he chuckled again, I stiffened.

"Put me down."

He obliged and slowed his pace so

that I could keep up.

"I have two dogs," he said.

What kind?" Owning two dogs

raised the man in my estimation, and

it also filled me with jealousy. "Are

they smart?"

"German Shepherds. Black ones.

They're very smart."

"Do they look like wolves?"

"A little," he allowed.

"I really want a wolf, but people can't

have them."

"Wolves are beautiful."

My house was in sight, the man who

knew my name and had carried me

to safety no longer seemed like such

a stranger, and my pain was gone. I

looked up at him. He was beautiful,

I could see that now, and I loved him

immediately, completely, the way

only a child can.

What were you reading when I

found you?" he said.

About Ruth. We're reading it in

Sunday school. We're makinga craft

with hay."

We had reached the edge of my

backyard and I wanted to run home

and I also wanted to stay with the

man who shared my views on

wolves. He knelt and began dusting

dirt off my coat. "Entreat me not

to leave you," he said, "or to turn

back from following after you, for

wherever you go, I will go, and

wherever you lodge, I will lodge.

Your people shall be my people and

your God, my God. Where you die, I

will die, and there will I be buried.

The Lord do so to me, and more also,

if anything but death parts you and

me."

I recognized the words from the

Book of Ruth and I knew he meant

them for me. I hugged him quickly.

"Thank you for helping me.

"Go home now. Go to sleep. Will you

tell your parents what happened?"

I deliberated for a while. "They'll be

mad."

"Then don't tell them. It can be a

secret."

Inever got to keep secrets from my

family-especially ones as exciting as

this-so the idea thrilled me. "Okay"

I said, and I ran home.

A stained coat, torn sweatpants,

and muddy sneakers are par for

the course in any child's room, so

nothing seemed amiss the following

day. The gash on my cheek and

bruises on my body would have been

difficult to explain, but they were

gone, just like the man, and eight

years would pass before I saw him

again.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***