Engaging Carol

Mountain Grove, Idaho 1988 Daniel stood in the middle of the old church, inhaling the sweetly familiar aroma of pinewood, morning dew, and musty books, filling his lungs with fresh air. Birds twittered outside, breaking into the occasional song, accompanied by the wind whistling through the tops of ancient trees. He felt rejuvenated, like the boy who once raced from the foot of the steep hill to the top to meet his mother after choir rehearsals. The church hadn’t changed in the past fifty years. Hand-carved, pine pews lined either side of the chapel, the floor was freshly stained, and the alter—a gift to Carol’s father when he first assumed the position of minister—dominated the front of the building, as severe and solid as the man who had bellowed passionate calls for salvation from behind it. “Dad?” “In here, Becky-girl,” Daniel called, wiping his hand across his eyes. “So this is the Woodside Church?” Becky asked, stepping into the chapel. “It’s beautiful.” Daniel nodded, swallowing past the lump in his throat. Becky’s hair was a little longer and darker than Carol’s, but their eyes were both almond-shaped and bright green. They shared the same crooked smile, the same bubbly laugh, the same high spirit. “When you brought me here to visit, I didn’t really appreciate how lovely it was,” she said, sitting on the first pew. “Where’s your mother?” Daniel asked, sitting beside her. “Looking for her dress. She said she’d meet us up here.” Daniel jumped to his feet. “What? You left her alone?” Becky blinked, surprised by his exclamation. “Well, yes. She doesn’t need my help to get dressed, Dad.” “Right. And what if she runs away again?” Becky laughed at the question, but Daniel wasn’t amused. “She’s not going to run away this time.” “You don’t know that. What if she decides she needs to go help the children in Africa? What if she suddenly realizes that women’s rights in Saudi Arabia is more important than her own wedding?” Daniel began to pace, his hands thrust deep in his pockets. “Look, you know I support your mother, no matter what she wants to do, but I’m running out of time here. I can’t wait another fifty years.” Becky stood, putting a soothing hand on her father’s shoulder. “Dad, I promise, she’s not going to run away this time. But so what if she did? It won’t change the way you feel about each other. Why is it so important that you get married now?” Daniel smiled, not surprised by his daughter’s question. “Because I made her a promise, Becky-girl, and I intend to keep it. Besides, she made me a promise, and she better keep her word.” “I just don’t see how it makes a big difference. I mean, it won’t change anything. I know things are hardly normal for us but—” “Are you saying you don’t want me to marry your mother?” Becky laughed. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. I just don’t want you to be disappointed if she—” “Runs out again?” She nodded. “Yeah.” Daniel sat, willing his nerves to settle. “She said she’d be here. Shoot, she chose the church, didn’t she? This means as much to her as it does to me.” “Tell me about the church.” Daniel took her hand. “I thought your mother already told you all the stories.” “She told me all her stories,” Becky countered. “I want to hear yours now.” Daniel took his handkerchief from his jacket pocket and mopped his damp brow. The summer sun had crested the hill, turning its full attention to the little church in the mountain clearing. The building had always been too cold in the winter and too hot in the summer with nothing to protect it from the elements. “It’s not much different,” Daniel said. “I can still hear your grandmother’s choir group. They couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, you know. But Momma whipped them into shape. They still couldn’t carry much of a tune, but they sang with passion!” He paused, his vision blurring a bit. “She demanded everything from them, but then, that was her way.” * * * * Mountain Grove, Idaho 1950 Patricia Scambray rapped her knuckles across the podium, calling her motley group to order. There were two dozen men, women, and children, all with one thing in common—a calling from God to make His music. Daniel always wondered why God never called people who knew how to sing. “Daniel? Give us our pitch,” Patricia said once they were all settled. Daniel didn’t know how to play the piano—he had resisted all of his mother’s lessons until she gave up—but he could pick out a few notes. He dutifully played middle C while his mother raised her arms. The group took a simultaneous breath. Daniel braced himself for the cacophony, but no matter how hard he tried, he was never quite prepared for when his mother brought down her arms. Two dozen voices bellowed forth, on two dozen different pitches, with two dozen different volumes. Patricia’s face remained professional, as though she was directing the finest choral group in the nation. Daniel envied her ability to keep her emotions masked—they never knew she was truly horrified by their happy butchering of beloved church hymns. Daniel sent up a quick prayer of thanks that the song was only two verses long. In more competent hands, it would have been a simple, lovely devotional to God. Patricia sharply cut off the hymn at the final word, but several people were quite happy to draw out the note for another seven or eight beats. “Perhaps we should find a piano player,” Patricia sighed, more for Daniel’s benefit. She had this discussion with him before, arguing that if they could hear the music, perhaps it would act as a guide. Daniel always pointed out that they were tone deaf, and adding accompaniment would just further confuse them. When the blessed silence finally fell over the church, the sudden, loud clapping coming from behind the pews startled them all. Everybody turned to look at the strange man, accompanied by what must have been his daughter, applauding them with enthusiasm. “That was certainly something,” he exclaimed, stepping forward, and obscuring Daniel’s view of the girl who had followed him in. “Thank you. And you are?” Patricia asked. “Pardon my rudeness. My name is Bradford Thorn. I’m the new minister.” Patricia’s hands flew into the air, her face a bright red. Daniel couldn’t help but snicker at his mother’s shock. “Oh, Dr. Thorn, of course. I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow. We were just preparing a song of welcome, weren’t we?” An excited whisper erupted among the group as all the old men stood up to introduce themselves. Bradford Thorn dutifully made his rounds, shaking everybody’s hands, repeating their names, and assuring them he couldn’t wait to hear them sing during Sunday’s services. Daniel didn’t think he was lying. “Everybody, I want you to meet my daughter, Carol.” Daniel stood to get a better view of the girl. What he saw knocked the breath out of his lungs. He thought she was around his age, probably fourteen or fifteen, with fine features, and a delicate, dancer’s body. All the girls he knew in the area were from a hearty stock. They were raised on the land, and they grew up as sturdy and solid as the oak trees that surrounded their homes. He liked them just fine, but he had never seen anybody as wisp thin and pale as Carol. She reminded him of spun sugar. “I can play the piano,” she volunteered. “If you’d like.” Patricia clapped her hands. “Oh, that would be wonderful. Come, come everybody. We’ll go through the song one more time with accompaniment.” Carol practically skipped up the stairs to the platform with the piano, Daniel watching every move. Her hair looked like his mother’s fine silk dress. He wanted to run his fingers through the light curls, feel the incredible smoothness against his skin. “Can I sit there?” Carol asked. “What? Oh, right, of course.” Daniel stepped away from the piano bench. “It’s all yours.” “Thank you.” Carol settled on the bench, her skirt spread around her. She positioned her hands on the keys, nodding when she was ready to begin. “A C please,” Patricia said. Carol played a C. “You know,” Daniel whispered, amused, over her shoulder, “it won’t do any good.” “What won’t?” “The piano won’t help them.” “It’ll help me,” she said through the smile plastered to her lips. “I can drown them out.” He smirked. “I’m Daniel, by the way.” “Lovely to meet you, Daniel.” When Patricia brought down her arms, Carol did drown out most of the singing, making his ears ring in the process. Her fingers were like birds on the ivory keys, fluttering over them before flying away to land on another note. Daniel couldn’t help but be impressed. It was a simple song, but she played it with vibrant intensity, pouring herself into the music. The two powerful sounds overwhelmed the small church with their battle for dominance, but an odd thing happened around the beginning of the second verse. The disharmony to his left somehow evolved enough to merge with the harmony to his right. Daniel looked at Carol with awe, as she accomplished in three minutes what his mother could not in almost three years. They were finally sounding like a group, like real, honest-to-God musicians. They rallied themselves, following Carol’s lead until the last note of the song hummed above their heads. Glancing at Daniel with confused eyes, Patricia’s hands helplessly fell to her side. Daniel could only shrug. He didn’t know what the hell had just happened either. He looked away from his mother to the girl sitting near his right hand. She looked incredibly pleased with herself, almost smug. Bradford clapped again. “That was really great. Isn’t my little girl something?” The group all clapped and nodded enthusiastically. “Ok, everybody,” Patricia said over the crowd, “we’ll be picking up at the same spot tomorrow night. God bless.” “Is there anything fun to do around here?” Carol whispered as the dismissed crowd swarmed her father. “What?” Daniel asked with mock confusion. “This isn’t fun?” She arched her eyebrow and pursed her lips. “No. It’s not.” Daniel laughed. “Well, it’s too bad for you that this is the most exciting thing going on around here.” “Are you serious?” She stood, her face an open book of horror. “Oh, you can’t be serious.” “You think we’re hiding a jazz club or something around here? You’ve been through the town.” Carol frowned, confused. “The town? What town? You mean those buildings we passed on the road? That’s the town?” Daniel walked to the fireplace, throwing a few logs over the flames so the fire would survive the night. “Well, yeah. What did you think it was?” She sat on the steps of the platform, hugging her knees to her chest. The flush of anger on her face confused Daniel. Had he said something wrong? Maybe he shouldn’t have teased her—though he thought she shouldn’t be so sensitive. “This is awful,” she muttered. “Just awful. How could he do this to me?” Daniel brushed the sawdust from his hands, looking over her shoulder to her father. Daniel knew Bradford Thorn would be intimidating with his tall, imposing form if it weren’t for his easy smile. He had Carol’s bright green eyes, but his hair was a stark contrast—jet black with just a few hints of gray around the temples. He towered over the little old ladies, but they looked up at him with reverent, amused eyes. “They’re going to tie him up here for a while,” Daniel observed. “I could walk you home if you like.” “Do you even know where we live?” Daniel laughed at her snide question. “I imagine you live in the cabin, like all the ministers did before.” Carol stood and flounced over to her father. Daniel watched as she pointed to him before pointing to the door. He laughed again when she marched to the door, ignoring Bradford’s protests, who was helpless to stop her. The mob didn’t want to lose their new prize just yet. “Mom, I’m going to walk Carol home,” Daniel said as he passed his mother. “That’s fine, dear. Just make sure you don’t forget about me! You know I hate going down that da—” She paused, smiling sweetly to cover her near slip. “That road is so difficult to navigate in the dark.” “I know, Mom, I’ll be back before you miss me.” He found Carol waiting for him on the road, bathed in shimmering moonlight. She looked like she would take flight any moment. A sort of sharp energy radiated from her. Her eyes darted around, she shifted her weight from foot to foot, and fidgeted with her skirt. “Ready?” Daniel asked. Carol sighed, motioning to the path that wound behind the church. Daniel wanted to take her hand, or touch her shoulder, or hook his arm through hers. She marched ahead of him, unmindful of the uneven ground or the tall weeds slapping against her legs. “I can clear this path if you’d like,” Daniel said. She looked over her shoulder. “What?” “Our old minister, he didn’t really have the energy to keep up the grounds…” Daniel pointed to the weeds. “I can take care of it.” “That’s not necessary.” Daniel shrugged. “Well, they don’t bother me, since I don’t have to wear a dress.” “Oh, I won’t be wearing another dress. Ever again,” Carol assured him, coming to a stop as she reached the top of the small hill. From their vantage, they could see the church lights flickering through the windows, while sharp, gray smoke curled through the night air. “I can’t believe I’m stuck here,” she muttered. “Is it really as bad as all that?” “Yes. Don’t you get it? It’s like moving to the Stone Age!” She threw up her hands in disgust. “But of course you wouldn’t understand. You don’t know any better.” “Excuse me? The Stone Age? I don’t know any better? Who do you think you are? You come up here and you don’t know anybody or anything, and I try to be helpful and how do you show your appreciation?” Daniel asked, his voice rising with anger. “Well maybe I don’t want your help,” she shouted back. “I don’t want to be here at all. I just want to be left alone until I can escape this place.” Daniel shook his head. “Fine. Have a nice evening.” He waved, turning back down the hill. Let her find her way in the dark. And let her sit alone in her cold cabin while she waited for her father. Daniel knew Pastor Thorn would be kept quite a while. They’d want to know about his family, where he grew up, what his favorite foods were, when he’d be free to eat at their homes, where he worked before, if he had any good gossip to share… And where did she get such an attitude? Daniel had been nothing but friendly since he first saw her, and she turned into such a witch. Well forget her. “Daniel? Wait!” Daniel kept walking, carried forward by his anger. Mountain Grove may not seem like much to a stuck-up city girl like her, but his family had lived there for almost a century. His roots ran as deep in the soil as the trees that surrounded them, and all the people she insulted with her ignorant comments were his family and friends. The Stone Age indeed. “Daniel! Please?” Her voice faltered. “I…I’m not sure where to go.” “I thought you didn’t need help,” he flung over his shoulder. “Please! I don’t want to get lost out here.” Now she sounded desperate, frightened, and even childlike. Nothing like the confident young woman who had just shouted at him seconds before. Daniel turned around, his irritation already dissipating. “Who knows what’s out here,” she added once he returned to her side. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.” “That’s easy for you to say. You grew up out here in the sticks. I’m accustomed to civilization,” she said, her attitude returning in full force. Daniel rolled his eyes. “You’re quite the spoiled little princess, aren’t you?” “I’m not spoiled.” “Whatever you say. Hey, where are you going? That isn’t the way you want.” “I want to sit down,” Carol said, moving further away from the path. “What are you looking for? A chair?” Daniel asked, chasing after her. The last thing he needed to do was lose her somewhere on the mountainside. He thought she was probably a smart girl, but wouldn’t have the first idea of what to do if she actually got lost. “This’ll do,” Carol announced, settling on a stump. She looked at the sky through the tree limbs with a bright smile. “Aren’t the stars beautiful?” Daniel approached cautiously, confused by her sudden shifts in mood. “Yes,” he agreed slowly. “They are something.” “Come sit by me.” He settled on the edge of the stump, making it a point not to touch her. He thought she might be crazy, but that didn’t mean he didn’t long to be near her. If he touched her once, he suspected he wouldn’t be able to stop. “How old are you, Daniel?” “Fifteen.” “Really? You look older.” “Yeah. My birthday’s coming up.” “I’m seventeen.” It was Daniel’s turn to be surprised. “Are you serious?” “Why would I lie about that?” He shrugged. “It’s just…I mean, I figured you were like fourteen or something.” “Fourteen!” “Well, it’s because you’re so small,” he said defensively. “Small? I am not small. I’m just the right size for my age, thank you very much.” He held up his hands, smiling, eager to avoid a fight. “Of course, I’m sorry. You’re right.” “But my point is, Daniel, I’ve lived in Los Angeles my entire life. All my friends are there. That’s where I went to school. And now everything has changed, so yeah, you know, I might not be the friendliest girl right now. You probably hate me.” “I don’t think I could hate you.” “I just feel really alone right now.” Daniel longed to wrap his arm around her, but he settled for a hesitant pat on her back “You’re not alone.” He bit his lip, trying to think of something comforting to add. “I could show you around town tomorrow, if you like.” Carol snorted. “That’ll take all of five minutes, right?” “You might be surprised.” “I guess it’s better than listening to Dad practice his sermons.” Daniel smiled, pushing himself to his feet. “Come on,” he said, finding the courage to offer his arm, “let me take you home.” “Are there bears here?” Carol asked, folding her arm in his. Daniel looked down, staring at the spot where their skin touched. How could such a small amount of a contact make him warm all over? He thought she would burn him. “Bears? Oh, um, sometimes.” “Sometimes? How often is sometimes?” He looked at her from the corner of his eye. “Are you scared?” “Of course not. I’m just curious.” She sounded scared, though. Daniel couldn’t blame her. “We see the occasional tracks, but there are few sightings. Most wild animals don’t like to venture to close to the houses. They don’t like the lights or the noise.” “So I don’t have to worry about a bear ripping down my front door and tearing me from my bed?” she asked, her voice serious. He laughed. “No, I don’t think that’ll happen. Hey, watch your step here.” They fell into silence as Daniel guided her up the path, and he liked her again. A patient boy by nature, he wasn’t inclined to nurse a grudge against her or linger on her angry words. Besides, he didn’t know what he would do if he was forced to leave Mountain Grove and start a new life in a completely foreign place with no friends. The least he could do was extend the same kindness he hoped others would show him. “How ‘bout I come by tomorrow after breakfast?” he offered as they approached her front door. Carol grinned, almost shyly. “Yeah, I’d like that.” “If your dad is still swarmed when I get down there, I’ll be sure to rescue him and send him home, okay?” “Thank you.” Carol shook her head. “He’s just too nice sometimes. He’ll let anybody take advantage of him.” She pulled her arm away from his, leaving him cold and stung from the lost contact. “I’m sorry I shouted at you.” “Don’t worry about it.” Carol stretched her legs, standing nearly on the tips of her toes, to brush her lips across his cheek. She turned and hurried into the house before he could respond, leaving him standing alone and shocked. She’d kissed him. She had actually kissed him. His skin tingled from the contact, while his face heated. He forced himself to walk, but he couldn’t feel his legs. He moved down the hill in a daze, feeling more than a little heady. He tried to snag the memory of the kiss and hold it close, attempting to relive the mere second over and over. The velvet smoothness of her lips, the heat of her body pressed against his, her soft, tantalizing whisper of breath. Daniel had kissed his share of girls—and those girls had been more than willing to return his affections—but nobody had ever affected him in quite this way before. He wanted to race back up the hill, push open the door, gather her in his arms, and kiss her until they were both breathless. “This is not good,” he muttered. “Not good at all.” He remembered what happened when his brother, Mike, fell in love with a girl from the valley, Christine. Mike had pined for Christine until he was sick, falling all over himself to please that girl. And what did he get for all his troubles? An invitation to her wedding. Daniel remembered finding his brother hiding in the back of the barn, tear stains on his face, a crumpled letter in his hand. Daniel had quietly turned around, for once allowing Mike a bit of privacy, but he had vowed that would never happen to him. Even at the tender age of fifteen, he knew better than getting caught up with some girl. But Carol wasn’t just some girl. He couldn’t wait to see her again. * * * * Mountain Grove, Idaho 1988 “What story is your father telling you now?” Carol greeted as she stepped into the church. “It’s probably not true.” Daniel and Becky both jumped to their feet. “What are you doing here?” Becky blurted. “Why do you look so surprised?” Carol asked as she drifted toward them. She wore a simple white line dress, and soft curls framed her face. “I couldn’t leave you in charge of the flower arrangement.” Becky rolled her eyes. “I could have handled it.” “Maybe, but why risk it?” She turned her attention to Daniel. “Don’t you look handsome?” “You’ve never seen me in my tux, have you?” He held out his arms. “I thought we decided this would be informal. You know I didn’t buy a big, white frou-frou wedding dress.” “This tuxedo cost me three-hundred dollars when I bought it forty years ago, and I haven’t used it yet,” he reminded her. “I got to get my money’s worth, don’t I?” Carol stepped back, eyeing him from the tips of his freshly polished shoes to the top of his new haircut. “You really do look quite remarkable,” she said with just a hint of shock. “At least twenty years younger.” Daniel puffed out his chest, beaming from the compliment. “I did what I could. You only get married once, right?” Carol’s smile matched his. “Right. Now, what were you two up to? We have too much work to do this morning to sit around and jaw the day away.” “Dad was telling me about the night you two met,” Becky explained. Carol laughed. “Too bad we can’t have your mother’s atrocious group sing at our wedding, huh?” Daniel smiled faintly, pained by the mention of his mother. She had been fond of Carol while they were both children, but her fondness deteriorated as Carol fluttered from cause to cause, country to country, leaving Daniel and Becky home to fend for themselves. He liked to think his mom would have been pleased to finally attend their wedding, but she died convinced that Daniel would be much happier if he cut Carol from his life for good. Becky checked her watch. “The florists should be here any minute.” “If they can even find the place,” Carol said. “I gave them very specific directions, but who knows if they were paying attention.” She shook her head. “You just can’t trust people to listen these days.” Daniel put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “They’ll be here and everything will be fine, I promise.” Carol curled her hand in his. “Why don’t we walk up to the cabin? For old time’s sake.” “Do you think we have time?” “Of course we do. It’s our wedding day. We’ll make the time.” “Then, my lady, allow me,” Daniel said, offering his arm. “Though I don’t know if I can take on that hill again…I’m not the boy I once was.” “Becky, if the florists arrive, tell them to wait,” Carol said over her shoulder. “But what about the caterers?” Becky called. “They’ll wait, too!” Daniel eyed the steep hill with trepidation. He knew he used to race up to the top in just over a minute, his strong legs practically flying over the ground. He remembered it vividly, but he didn’t believe it was ever possible. He knees ached now at the thought of pushing his body up the incline. “Come on,” Carol encouraged. “You’re not getting old on me, are you?” Daniel thought about the senior citizen’s card now residing in his wallet and grimaced. “Getting old? Darling, I’ve been there for years.” “This is nothing,” she said, starting up the trail. “Says the woman who climbed Kilimanjaro,” he muttered as he followed her. “Isn’t the air glorious up here?” she called from several feet away. “So…invigorating!” “Yes, invigorating,” he wheezed. “Hold up, I need to catch my breath.” Carol hurried back to his side, skipping down the rocky path like a graceful fawn. “You should exercise more. What did the doctor tell you? Three times a week?” “I exercise plenty,” he grumbled. “Let’s get moving.” “That’s the spirit!” Daniel couldn’t help but smile at her spirit. Nobody would guess that she was two years his senior. She always looked younger than her age, but at that moment, she seemed like a young woman again. Maybe the fresh, mountain air really was invigorating. Her high spirit certainly was contagious, and he found he could easily climb the last twenty feet of the hill before they reached the abandoned cabin. “It’s bigger than I remember,” she murmured. “It always seemed like such a cage, a prison I couldn’t wait to escape.” Daniel nodded. “Daddy loved this place, you know. He thought it was home. He couldn’t understand…” Carol bit her lip, looking away. “Of course he understood,” Daniel said, pulling her into his arms. “He always understood you.” “No, I was like a stranger. He never figured me out. I could see it in his face whenever I visited, or heard it in his voice when I called—he was perplexed. I should have tried harder.” “Carol, honey, I spent a lot of time with Bradford, and I promise you, he was never anything less than proud.” He kissed the top of her head, inhaling the intoxicating smell of her, and flowers, and sunshine. “You know, I don’t remember the first night we met very well…” “No?” He wasn’t surprised. Every minute he spent with Carol had been imprinted on his memory with digital clarity, but he knew that Carol’s mind didn’t work the same way. She kept copious notes and several diaries so she wouldn’t forget anything. Her mind was too active to hold onto any one memory for too long. “You know what’s odd, though?” “Hmm?” “I remember the next morning very, very well.” Daniel chuckled. “I wonder why.” “I think it’s because it was the first time I wanted to strangle you with my bare hands,” she said with a wry smile. “But not the last?” Carol smirked. “Hardly.” * * * * Mountain Grove, Idaho 1950 Carol jerked away, sitting straight up in bed, her heart pounding. Bears, her mind screamed. Bears are trying to get in! But of course, that was ridiculous, right? Daniel had said so. The sharp sound of a fist against wood echoed through the house. Who could be knocking on their door at that hour? Dawn’s dull gray light filled the bedroom, and a bitter wind whistled around the house. She shivered, pulling the quilt up to her chin. She just wanted to crawl under her blankets, but whoever was outside her door knocked again. Tentatively, she pushed the quilt from her legs and stepped out of bed. The first contact with the cold, wooden floor turned her blood to ice. “Shoot,” she muttered, stepping quickly across the floor. “Shoot, shoot, shoot.” Carol rummaged through her suitcase until she found her slippers, sighing with relief as she pulled them over her iced toes. Just how cold was it? Dread flooded her. If the floor gave her frostbite in July, what would happen in January? “I’m going to die up here,” she said, pulling on her robe. “I’m going to freeze or a bear is going to get me. And won’t Dad be sorry then?” The unknown visitor knocked again, prompting Carol to grab a large, heavy book from one of her boxes. Whoever it was, friend or foe, would pay for waking her at six in the morning. It would be a lesson they wouldn’t soon forget, Carol was sure about that. But before she knocked the stranger unconscious, she would try to locate her father. Carol found a note on the table instead, scrawled in his hurried, strong hand. Carol, I’m going to the Smith’s for breakfast. I’ll be back before you wake up. She smiled, her anger temporarily forgotten. She was happy somebody invited him to breakfast—it meant she wouldn’t have to cook. But who ate breakfast at dawn? The knock again. “I’m coming!” Carol shouted, adjusting her grip on the book. “You better get ready,” she added under her breath. Carol paused at the door, considering her options. She could bring the book down on the intruder’s head—satisfying, but given her short stature, probably not possible. Instead, she decided to open the door with one hand, simultaneously throwing the book with the other. Whoever it was wouldn’t even know what hit him, and she’d be free to return to the warmth of her bed. Carol’s aim was wild and Daniel’s reflexes sharp, otherwise, the book would have broken his nose. Instead, the corner nicked his ear. He dropped to his knees, clutching it, his face pale. “What did you do that for?” he shouted. “Well, what are you doing here?” Daniel gaped. “What am I doing here? What do you mean? I told you I would come by after breakfast.” “Right! After breakfast.” She pointed to the horizon. “Not before the sun comes up. I was asleep.” “I’ve been awake for an hour.” “There’s clearly something wrong with you,” she said, folding her arms. “I never would have agreed to meet you if I knew you were going to be here so early. And it’s freezing.” Daniel took his hand away from his ear, examining the streaks of blood. “Look, do you have a towel or something?” “I might. Come on in before I freeze to death.” Daniel pushed himself to his feet, but didn’t follow her inside immediately. Instead, he made a detour to the tall weeds where the book had landed. She watched him look for it, suddenly feeling very guilty. “You don’t have to do that,” she called. “It’s fine.” “No, I got it.” He straightened, holding up the book in triumph. “That’s quite an arm you got,” he commented when he returned to the door. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was you,” she said, taking the book from him. “Well, I’m not surprised. You didn’t really look, did you?” Daniel stepped in, covering his ear with his hand again. “Do you want me to build up your fire? It is rather cold in here.” Carol shook her head. “No…no, it’s fine. Why don’t you sit over here.” She gestured to the kitchen table. “Let me look at your ear.” “But if you’re cold—” “You’re bleeding. That’s more important,” she stated, pushing him to the table. “Now sit down.” “Do you usually answer the door with a weapon in hand?” he asked, obediently sitting in the chair she indicated. “Not usually, no. Let me look at it.” The cut looked shallow—no more than a scrape really—but it was seeping blood. Carol bit her lip. Her mother would know what to do, but her mother wasn’t there anymore, was she? “A rag will be fine,” Daniel said. “But shouldn’t we try to clean it or something?” “I’ve had worse injuries. Just a rag.” Carol looked around helplessly. Nothing had been unpacked. If they had any rags, she didn’t know where to find them. “I don’t think we have any.” Daniel touched his ear again. “I think it’s stopped—” Carol ripped the bottom from her nightgown, tearing off a strip about a foot long and three inches wide. He could wrap it around his entire head, if he needed to. “This should do.” “You didn’t have to do that,” he muttered, looking away from her exposed calf. Carol quickly readjusted her nightgown and robe, modestly covering her legs again. She didn’t mind that he looked. She liked the way his eyes lit up when they landed on her, like she was a treasure he never expected. Smiling to herself, she folded the strip of material into a square and placed it against his ear. “Do you want me to come back later?” he asked, his fingers brushing against hers as he put his hand on the material. Carol sucked in her breath, surprised by the casual contact. She knew he didn’t mean anything by it, but he sent sparks up her arm. She studied his hands for the first time, noticing how large and sure they were. They didn’t look like they belonged to a boy—but then, Daniel wasn’t like any boy she ever knew. As she noticed each scar, and the firm calluses along his fingers, she understood that he could do anything with his hands—fix what was broken, heal what was sick, comfort the unwell, the bereaved. Slowly, she dragged her gaze away from his hands to look into the blue depths of his eyes. Did he understand his power? Did he know he was gifted, as her grandmother would say? Like a bolt of lightning in the young summer sky, it struck her that if she needed him, if she needed those hands, all she would have to do was say his name. “Daniel,” she breathed. He tilted his head, a confused smile on his lips. “Yes?” She blinked and stepped away, severing the contact. “I guess I’ll, um, go get dressed.” “You don’t have to.” “What?” she asked sharply, the electricity from his touch still sparking in her blood. “I mean, I could always come back later. You should…get some rest…if you’re tired.” He stood, towering over her. How could he be two years younger than her? He was bigger, stronger, than most men she knew. “No, no. I mean, I’m up now, right?” She smiled, wondering if her cheeks were as red as they felt. Daniel nodded. “If you’re sure. I’ll wait outside while you dress.” She tried to smile casually. “I’ll be right out.” She hurried to her bedroom before he could say another word, releasing the breath she was holding once she shut the door. What was that? She wished she could talk to her mother, or her grandmother. She would describe what she saw, what she felt, and they could tell her what it all meant. But they were both gone, the memories of their stories was all that she had of them now. Carol didn’t know if she believed in everything they’d said—most of it had sounded like fairy tales to her—but they could have been right about a few things. They could have been right about the gift. They could have been right about soul mates. They could have been right about love at first sight. Or second sight, as it were. “There will be some truly special people in your life,” her grandmother had said on her deathbed. She had clutched Carol’s hand, pulling her close to whisper the final words of advice. “When you find them, don’t let them go. They’ll save you.” * * * * Mountain Grove, Idaho 1988 The words had been vague, almost meaningless then, but they’d haunted her as she dressed. And every day thereafter. “You never told me any of that before,” Daniel murmured now, taking her hand in his. Their fingers folded around each other, forming a perfect bond. “Well, it all seemed so…big…then. Like too much to share. And later, well, I thought you knew.” She brought his hand to her mouth, kissing each knuckle. “But I was right, wasn’t I?” “You could have told me. Maybe it would have made things easier.” “Did you really need to be told you were my anchor…my salvation?” she asked, her green eyes watery. “Sometimes I needed to be told that you knew me at all,” he pointed out dryly. She looked away, her face troubled. “You’re right, of course. I’ve been awful to you, Daniel. Why are you still here at all? You’ve still got a few good years, you should find somebody who deserves you.” “Hey,” he said, hooking his finger beneath her chin. “You’re not trying to get rid of me, are you? Because I’m not going to let you run this time.” She gave a wan smile. “No, nothing like that. I’m not going to run away. Not if you’ll still have me.” “You’re a remarkable woman, Carol. I’ve been waiting a long time.” “Sometimes I wonder if things would have been different if I never went to San Francisco.” “Oh, everything would have been different. No doubt about it. But would it have been better? Be honest with me, Carol, would you have changed anything?” Her eyes grew distant as she looked across the valley. She looked wistful, nostalgic, peaceful, and young. Daniel’s heart swelled, as it always did when he saw her in a certain light, in a certain way. “Not one thing,” she said. “Not a thing.”