Roman watched Sienne leave like he’d done a hundred times before, letting the ghost of her haunt him as the woods grew dark. The first time he’d seen her at the edge of the trees, he’d been only ten years old. To a ten-year-old boy, she was the princess of fairy tales—far more interesting to his fourteen-year-old sister, Lenora, than him. But his sister never ventured past the barn, and Sienne remained his alone.
At first he kept quiet about the woman in the woods because he and Lenora were fighting. Despite Sienne’s daily insistence that they’d never met, the two of them were eager for companionship, and a strange friendship was struck. By the time Roman and Lenora had made up, he’d thought of Sienne as a secret, one he continued to keep.
By fourteen, he realized she was more than a secret. Or maybe less.
“Have you been in my imagination all this time?” Roman had asked, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against a tree. He’d been awkward at that age, all limbs with sharp angles.
Sienne had turned, startled to be caught where the pine trees thinned. As if he hadn’t caught her there nearly every day for the last four years. Her green eyes widened and her lips rounded. “Sorry. Do I know you?”
Roman sighed. It was always the same game, and he’d grown tired of it. The adults had started treating him differently—giving him more chores, greater “responsibility.” But Sienne still saw him as a child, as someone to tease.
“Of course you do. I’m Roman, and you’re Sienne. We meet here every day. There’s no use pretending otherwise.” He scuffed his boot in the dirt, frowning at a worm instead of Sienne. She wasn’t really much older than him. He could see that now. She was far closer to Lenora’s age than he’d realized.
Except, had it always been that way?
“I’ve only lived here a few days.” Sienne took a step back, a shadow hiding the pout she was sure to be sporting. “How do you know my name?”
Roman snorted, then reined in his irritation. Some days he scared her off with this attitude. “Would you like to play a game?”
Her eyes lit up before she wilted once more. “I can’t leave the woods.”
“I know.” He pushed off the tree, not wanting to repeat the conversation again. “Why don’t you guess my age?”
She smiled. “That’s an unusual game, but I’ll play.” She bit her lip, studying him from head to toe until he grew uncomfortable and wished he’d picked another game. “You’re a head shorter than me, but I can tell you’ve recently sprouted.”
He shifted his feet as if he could hide his ankles peeking from beneath his pant legs.
“Fifteen?”
“Almost.” He puffed out his chest.
“I’m almost right, or you’re almost fifteen?”
“Both.”
They grinned at each other.
“Your turn.” She turned her profile as if it might help him gauge her years. The high neckline and rounded skirt matched his mother’s style more than his sister’s, but Sienne didn’t have lines or marks on her face. Except for the tiny mole above her lip on the right side. “Well?”
Roman started, noticing the pink tinge on her cheeks after he’d stared at her mouth for so long. “Twenty?” he mumbled.
“Eighteen!” She bounced a bit where she stood. “Or I will be tomorrow. Papa said he’ll take me to the city for my birthday, and—” She cut off, her smile fading.
“Happy birthday.” He said the words with a frown, because he swore she’d told him it was her birthday earlier this winter.
Sienne picked up talking again as if she hadn’t blundered and as if he hadn’t been rude, but Roman didn’t hear everything she said. It didn’t make sense that she was only eighteen. She would have been fourteen when they first met. She would have looked different back then. Unless he just didn’t remember right. Maybe girls didn’t change as much between fourteen and eighteen as boys did.
“I’m hoping he’ll buy a replacement pendant for my necklace. I must have lost it when we moved. I came out here today looking for it. For some reason, I felt compelled to look for it in these woods.” She turned and took in the surrounding dirt, her brow furrowed. “Here by the fence.”
It always came back to the silly missing pendant, but this time, instead of helping her look, Roman narrowed his gaze and took in her dress as it fluttered around her. Not only was it old-fashioned, but it was the same pink dress she’d worn every day they’d met. Lenora would have noticed that detail years ago.
“Are you a ghost?” He hadn’t meant to interrupt her, but once the words were out, she faltered.
“A ghost?”
“I see you every day in the same dress. You look the same as you did four years ago. You’re either a figment of my imagination or you’re a ghost.”
She took another step back.
Roman regretted his question even as he longed for an answer. The easy camaraderie between them filled with thick awkwardness.
“I—I think maybe my parents had good reason to warn me away from the edge of the woods.” She turned and fled before he could protest.
For the next year, he asked her age and took care not to bring up ghosts. Every day, her answer was the same: it was the eve of her eighteenth birthday.
* * *
“What are you doing?” Sienne asked, startling Roman from his work.
“What does it look like?” He continued pulling on his father’s saw, back and forth as it cut through the fence dividing them.
“I don’t think my father will appreciate you damaging his fence.”
Roman straightened up, wiping sweat from his brow. They were the same height now that he was fifteen. She chewed at her lip, the worry in her eyes unusually fearful. But it was the first time he’d shown up with a sharp metal blade.
“I’m Roman, your neighbor.” He set down the saw and removed his glove, stretching his hand out between the fence posts.
She took it hesitantly, shaking it just long enough to be polite. “Sienne. Nice to meet you.”
He pulled his glove back on and resumed sawing, shouting over the buzz of metal on wood. “My father built this fence, so I don’t think your father will complain. Besides, I’m turning it into a gate.”
She watched him work, occasionally pitching in to hold the wood steady while he hammered on hinges where he’d sawed the wood. The work was unfamiliar to him, and it took several tries—and most of the afternoon—to get it right.
They each stepped back on their respective sides to admire their gate as the sun set.
“I wish we’d had more time to talk,” Sienne said shyly. “Maybe I can come again in a couple of days.”
“Or tomorrow,” Roman muttered.
“No.” Her smile bloomed full force. “Tomorrow’s my birthday.”
After five years, how had he not noticed the way her eyes flashed in the sunset? Or the way her cheeks flushed pink with her excitement?
He gripped the fence for support as his heart picked up its pace. Even though he drank in the sight of her beaming face, his mouth went dry.
“Happy birthday,” he mumbled.
He’d been working hard that day, spending too much time out in the sun. He needed water and rest, and yet he leaned on the fence, studying the woods long after Sienne had left.