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Standing at the restaurant entrance, I saw Joe squirming in his seat. He looked at his watch and took a sip of water. Although he could’ve been enjoying the view of the pool or the romantic music playing in the background, his mind seemed to be preoccupied.
When he saw me approaching, he jumped to his feet and pulled out the chair for me. "Wow. You look...wow."
"Wow right back at ya." I grinned, knowing I made the right call borrowing Tara’s red dress and wearing my hair down for a change.
We sat. Joe adjusted his tie. His gaze shifted to the burning candles on the table, which gave off a sweet, cranberry scent.
"Is something wrong?" I asked when he was quiet.
"Everything is fine," he said.
Reaching under the table, he pulled out a wrapped gift that he gave to me. "Happy Valentine’s Day."
"Oooh." With child-like excitement, I unwrapped the layers of glittery paper. Joe’s face beamed with joy as he watched me. When I finally saw his gift, I burst into laughter. "Oh my God. This is so cute," I said, holding a bobblehead doll that looked like me—the one I had kept in my car ever since.
"I’m glad you like it."
"Like it? I love it."
I viewed the doll up close. Joe got all the details right—the silly grin and the cheery way I wave goodbye—all except one. "Is she wearing a ring? I never wear rings."
"I know." He let that sink in for a second.
"I don’t get it." I stared blankly. My confusion turned to astonishment when Joe got down on one knee and revealed another box in his hand, a ring box.
"Echo, I have never met anyone like you. You’re smart, funny, strong, and beautiful. You’re the one I want to spend my life with."
My heart pounded. I felt jumpiness in my nerves, like a thrilling sugar rush or an intense shot of adrenaline. Had there been a trampoline nearby, I would’ve been bouncing joyfully.
"Will you—"
"Yes, yes, yes." I started on my feet. I couldn’t wait for him to finish the question. Everyone in the restaurant applauded. A wide smile spread on Joe’s face, a smile I adored.
That day, we promised each other honesty and trust. We promised to never keep secrets and to always put our relationship first. I never thought that one year later, I’d be the one breaking these promises.
***
I traveled to the Land of No Return searching for answers, but I ended up with more questions. Still, I was glad I made that move. Had I not taken the risk, I wouldn’t have brought Ebba back home.
"Drink this," Vanna said, offering her a healing potion. "It’ll calm you."
"Th-thank you." Ebba’s hands trembled as she took the glass, spilling on her overall.
I extended my hand with a tissue. "Don’t worry about anything, Ebba. You’re safe here."
She gave me a faint smile that quickly morphed into a wince when she took the first sip of her drink.
"Tell us, Ebba, how did you get to that castle?" Vanna asked.
Ebba put the glass down and rested her hand on the couch arm. She peeked at Oscar, who rolled on the carpet without a single worry. Despite being in the coziness of Vanna’s apartment, Ebba seemed tense.
"It’s okay if you’re not ready to talk," I said.
"N-no, no. I’m fine." She didn’t look fine. "A few days ago, I w-was helping Pa on the b-boat when a storm hit us. We tried to get to the shore but the engine broke. Then a c-creature came out of the w-water. It h-h-hurt Pa," she said with a shrill in her voice. "I’m worried about Pa."
Ebba’s last memory of the incident was a Kataru grabbing her, after which she woke up in the servants’ room in Jivar’s castle. "There are others like me, but they are different," she explained the other prisoners didn’t remember who they were before. They just served in the castle. "Cooking and cleaning," she said, keeping her head down.
I was torn between sympathy and suspicion. If Jivar altered the memories of his prisoners, why didn’t he do the same to her? How can I trust she is telling the truth? I was a lawyer, after all. I had to be rational, but my rationality went out the window when Ebba drew a hopeful expression and asked, "Will you take me to Pa?"
I pursed my lips and tried to pick my words. How could I tell her that her father was dead? What could I say that wouldn’t break her heart? There were no words, not even spells, to ease the pain of loss. All I could do was tell the truth.
***
"I brought lunch," I announced. The irresistible smell of cheese spread when I sauntered into the apartment carrying two large pizzas. "Do you think it’ll cheer her up?"
"She lost her father, Echo," Kirby said with a sad smile.
"I know, I know." I nodded. "I just wish I could help."
Ebba had been staying with Vanna and Kirby for three days, during which she never stopped crying. I was desperate to help her, but Pizza wasn’t the solution. More than anyone, I understood.
As I unboxed the food on the round table, Kirby leaned forward and whispered, "I did what you asked."
"And?"
"She wasn’t lying."
"Oh, thank God." I exhaled in relief. I had asked Kirby to slip in a truth potion in Ebba’s food to clear our doubts without hurting her feelings.
While Kirby helped me unbox the food, Ebba came out of his room wearing Vanna’s gray, patternless pajamas. "This smells good," she said.
"Good morning, Princess," I cheered. "Did you sleep well?"
"Y-yeah. Thank you, Kirby, for giving me your room."
"Anytime," he said with a grin.
"I’m s-sorry for c-causing you all the trouble," she said coyly. "I should go home. Pa had good friends who can take me in."
"You’re not going anywhere," I said. "And you’re not causing any trouble. If you go back to Herotreat Coast, you’ll be putting everyone there in danger. This place is protected by magic, so Jivar won’t find you here. Stop saying these silly things and go get Vanna before the pizza gets cold."
I admit I wasn’t great at comforting people. I was a problem-solver, not a good listener or a shoulder to cry on. I grew up that way. Regardless, I genuinely wanted Ebba to get better. I wanted her to feel like a friend or a part of our odd family. I wished she could see through my heart because otherwise, I wasn't able to tell her any of that.
***
On the stove, the potion boiled in our giant cauldron. Whenever it was Kirby’s turn to teach me a new potion, he’d let me dress the part. Ebba walked into the kitchen to find the two of us wearing black capes and big hats like fairytale witches.
"Push, Echo, push," Kirby instructed as I stirred with the giant spoon. Hot steam came at my face. Although I enjoyed making potions, I wasn’t a big fan of the sore arms and the sweat.
"What are you making?" Ebba asked.
"Today’s lunch," Kirby replied. "Stinky, purple soup with extra nuts."
Ebba gaped.
"He’s joking," I explained. "But about the stink, is it supposed to be that bad?" The kitchen reeked of rotten cabbage and spoiled tomato sauce.
"Maybe we used too much fern," Kirby said, reaching for the textbook on the counter to review the ingredients.
"Would you like to help?" I asked Ebba as I put down the spoon and reached for a jar with a greenish herb that I gave to her. "You can add a pinch of this."
Her eyes glowed. She took the jar from me and eagerly opened the lid.
"Wait." I stopped her long enough to take off my hat and put it on her head. "Now you’re ready."
She tittered.
"Remember. Just a pinch," I said, but she didn’t seem to grasp the idea. As soon as she sprinkled the leaves, the potion gurgled, and its color changed from purple to orange.
"Not good. Not good." Kirby pulled us away from the stove before the potion exploded. Like boiling lava, it gushed out of the cauldron, flooding the kitchen with orange stickiness.
The three of us gawked before falling into uncontrollable laughter. Although we’d be getting some heavy scolding from Vanna, I was overjoyed to see Ebba laughing for the first time.
Kirby and Ebba helped me clean up, and—thoughtlessly—I stored the leftovers of the spoiled potion in the cupboard instead of throwing it away. Thank God I did because, in exactly one month, that stinky thing would save all our lives.
***
As I finished up cleaning Vanna’s kitchen, Joe called, saying he had something to tell me. "I’m at my friend’s house near Oracles Park," I said. "Let’s go for a walk." Even though I hated that park, Joe thought it was a delight. I knew he’d love a stroll there.
I arrived at the park before he did. Sitting on an empty bench, I watched the sun disappear behind the heavy clouds. So far, it had been a subtle winter, but I smelled the moisture in the air. It was about time for the rain to come.
"They said it’s going to be sunny today." Joe emerged from behind and sat next to me.
"I missed you." I turned to him. "How was your day?"
"Good, good." He showed a stern expression. "I have something to tell you."
"You want to talk about Valentine’s plans, right?" I put my hands together in excitement.
"Oh." He scratched his scalp. "It’s February already."
"Yeeaah," I said. There was something off about Joe. He kept a strange distance between us and deliberately avoided eye contact. I lowered my nose to sniff my shirt, worried that my clothes reeked of the stinky orange potion, but I was fine. "Is something wrong, Joe?"
"I’ll cut to the chase, Echo," he said. "I have given this a lot of thought, and I think we should take a break." He uttered the words as though he had been rehearsing them.
My lips parted, but no voice came out. I never expected Joe to say those words, although I should have. "Wh-what?"
"From the moment we met, I knew you were the one," he said. His eyes softened, exposing the pain he wanted to hide. "But it’s been difficult getting closer to you, trying to win your heart."
"You have my heart, Joe." I meant it.
"No, I don’t." He shook his head in disappointment before he summoned the courage to look me in the eyes. "I’m sure you care about me, Echo, but you’re not in love with me. When you love someone, you open your heart to them. You share who you are with them even if it makes you vulnerable. You’ve never been vulnerable with me."
"Is this about the other day?" I asked, going to my troubleshooting, problem-solver mood. "I find it difficult to express my feelings, but this says a lot more about my childhood than our relationship."
"It’s not just that," he said. "We have been drifting apart for a long time."
"I admit I have been a crappy fiancée these past few months but—"
"I know you’re willing to fix things, Echo." He read my thoughts. "To fix us. You’ve tried before, but something is standing in the way. For God’s sake, we’ve been engaged for almost a year, and we never talk about our wedding."
"Yes, but—"
"I think you don’t want this, Echo, even if you think you do," he said, now looking at me the way Grandpa would if I came to him for advice, no more longing or passion in his eyes. "It sounds cliché, but you’re not ready for love." He gave an awkward chuckle.
My eyes welled up. I tried to bury my head, but Joe came closer and lifted my chin. "Please, don’t cry," he said in a sad voice. "I can’t stand watching you cry."
While we gazed at each other, the first drop of rain splashed on my cheek. It was gentle, just like Joe had always been. We had known each other for a long time, and I never meant to hurt him, but I did. I repeatedly did.
"I’m sorry, so sorry." I couldn't help but apologize, so he forced a smile on his face. The soft droplets of rain soon grew into a downpour, the first one in the bleak winter.
