Chapter 2

The man looked exactly asI

remembered him, and once my

shock wore off, I began to study him

as if I had moments to memorize as

much as possible. Imight.

He remained where he stood,

slanting elegantly against a tree.

His expression was calm. The eyes

that had seemed so cold eight years

ago were in fact iceberg blue, pale

enough to appear white, and his

unruly hair was black. I struggled

to calculate his age. He was a man,

not a boy, definitely. Twenty?

Mid-twenties?

I didn't care that I was staring and

neither did he, judging by his patient

demeanor.

He wore boots and dark jeans, a

plain black sweater, and a leather

jacket. He was clean-shaven with

high cheekbones and a narrow,

almost lupine face. The angles of it

begged to be drawn-or better yet,

sculpted.

I thought you learned your lesson

about running away," he said at

last. His silk-soft voice carried to me

easily.

Tm not." I had imagined this

encounter many times, but now that

it had arrived, I truly didn't know

what to say.

Not what?"

"Running. Away." I shook my head

rapidly.

"Why are you crying?"

"Tm not."I swiped at my face.

The moment wasn't following

any version of my plans. In my

imaginings, I was coy, sweet, or

mysterious-not a girl crying in the

woods, again.

"Some things never change." He took

a step toward me and I lurched back.

I don't know why I did it, except that

he was still a stranger and his sudden

approach startled me. He stopped,

smiled, and raised his hands. "Don't

be afraid." He retreated to the tree.

"Tm not," I repeated weakly.

Evidently, those were the only

two words I knew. I'd had more

composure as a child.

I took a slow, shivering breath,

and forced myself to meet his

stare. Over the years, one question

had disturbed me more than all

the others. My embarrassment

shifted toward anger. What sort

of man made grand promises to a

ten-year-old and then disappeared

from her life?

Where have you been?" I swallowed

thickly. "You said you'd always be

with me."

"Tve been around."

You haven't. Things have been..

hard." The emotion returned,

straining my voice. Hard could not

begin to describe the eleventh year

of my life, when my older brother,

my hero, my best friend, slid into

a snowy intersection and died on

impact with another car. Only the jaws

of life could pry open his mangled vehicle.

The man turned away and I lunged at

him. "Don't leave!"

"I know things were hard," he said.

"If you think I didn't want to be

there for you, you're wrong, but it

wouldn't have been appropriate. You

were a little girl."

"Tm not anymore." I stepped in front

of him.

He looked down at me-down

because I was five foot four and he

was easily over six. His frigid eyes

roamed my face. "I can see that."

Closer, I noticed fringes of ink

around the base of his neck. He

began to walk.

"Let's get you home. You're supposed

to be back before it's dark."

My stride caught. "You heard that?"

"I told you, I've been around."

"Is that what you do? You follow mme

and appear if I fall into a hole?"

"Sure." His soft laughter returned

from the past-dry amusement

shaded with cynicism. I might as

well have been a child discussing my

desire for a pet wolf.

I stopped and hugged myself. The

sun was receding into the forest and

I wished I had worn a jacket or a hat,

anything more than a thin cotton

shirt. "Are you going to disappear for

another eight years?" Panic tinged

my voice.

"Inever disappeared."

"You haven't chnaged at all."

That's flattering." He looked at me

expectantly. "Let's go."

"No, you haven't changed. I

remember."

"Things look different through a

child's eyes."

"I had cuts and bruises after I fell.

They were gone when I got home."

"Don't go out in September without a

jacket," he replied, shrugging out of

his and holding it toward me.

History was repeating itself: My

tears, his order not to be afraid,

my fear, his severe and dismayed

attitude. All he needed to do now was

promise to be with me always and

then vanish.

His coat swallowed me and it felt

heavier than it looked, like one of

those leaden dental vests, but it was

warm and smelled delicious. Pine,

firewood...him.

I stood my ground.

"Pl fall somewhere. Pll get lost on

purpose and make you come back."

His expression darkened. "Don't

joke."

"Pm not."

"That's incredibly disturbing. Now

Come on."

Promise I'll see you again. Soon."

"I made a promise to you already.

I've kept it and I intend to keep it."

When will I see you?"

He didn't answer. We faced off in a

silent deadlock and I knew I would

sketch the scene later: This tall,

glowering stranger; petite, stubborn

me; the bars of tree trunks around

us.

"What are these?" I touched the top

of his hand, where detailed black

ink disappeared beneath his sleeve.

His skin was warm and roped with

veins. I could almost make out-

He pulled away. "Don't."

"Sorry." I flinched. "I thought it

would be okay. I mean, you carried

me-"

"Yes, thank you for reminding me.

Id forgotten how you nearly got

yourself killed when you were ten.

It wasn't one of the most terrifying

moments of my existence." He

scowled and then frowned, the anger

clearing from his eyes. He had said

more than he'd intended, I realized,

and now he couldn't take it back.

My brush with death...one of the

most terrifying moments of his

existence.

Sorry" I mumbled.

"No, I'm sorry. I lost my temper. But

I wish you would go home now, and

get warm."

Tm warming up nicely, thanks." I

waved a floppy leather sleeve. He

didn't crack a smile, so I started

walking in the direction of home.

"I was sort of running away, for a

moment."

"Why?

"It's my birthday tomorrow," I said.

No surprise registered on his face.

"But I guess you already knew that."

"Happy birthday." He tried to push a

faster pace. I dragged my feet.

"Say that to me tomorrow."

"Itll be tomorrow soon, at the rate

we're going." He didn't sound angry

anymore, only a little bemused.

Your birthday makes you sad

because of David?"

My parents and I didn't talk about

David-nobody did-and hearing his

name spoken so naturally flooded me

with relief.

Yeah." I exhaled. "David."

"He shouldn't shadow your whole

life, you know."

"But he does. He was my brother."

"He is your brother."

"He's dead," I snapped.

"I thought you were a Christian."

The man's swift rejoinder stunned

me. "No, we"-I stalled as the lights

of my house came into view-we

stopped going to church, after.."

"So? It's not going to church that

makes you believe something. It's the

other way around. But that doesn't

matter now. AIl I mean is, you

deserve to be happy. Your brother

doesn't want to be a specter in your

life. Pll be that. Ill be your shadow."

I glared at my feet. "Well, you've

made your big promise. Now you can

disappear for another decade."

"Leda, I never-"

"You did," I said. "You disappeared

in all the ways that matter." I could

see that nothing I said would change

his mind, and worse, I sounded

desperate. I would never tell him

how I had clung to the thought of

him over the years. I wouldn't cry

in front of him again, either, so I

ran toward the house just like I had

when I was ten, only this time I took

his coat with me.

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