When the song was finished, Nate"s eyes were still closed and he slowly lowered the flute to his side, lifted his face to the sun and whispered—breathed—something in another language. I had to guess that it was a prayer of some sort. I couldn"t disturb him now. I back peddled, working to exit quietly the way I had come by inching my foot back. Lowering my toes slowly to the stone, then my heal, and shifted my weight back. Lifting the other foot, I twisted my body in order to exit swiftly, but the voice stopped me.
“The hand of fate keeps bringing us together,” his deep voice resonated in my ears and I froze like a deer finding myself in a set of high beams. I turned back and looked over at him. He had opened his eyes and looked straight at me.
“I"m sorry. I didn"t mean to interrupt—”
“Y
