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~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Ten years later ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
There was no place more beautiful than Blowing Rock in early springtime. At least, that was what Amelia Watson thought. She put her hands on her hips and took a breath. A hike had been exactly what she needed. She paused on an open area of ridge and looked down over the valley. Blowing Rock shone like a gemstone under the sun. This was a well-used trail and she was familiar with it. It had always been a good place for her to gather her thoughts.
“Nigel!” she called.
A chocolate Labrador trotted out of the woods. His muzzle was gray now. He had been a birthday present for Rachel and Isaac’s joint ninth birthday. He had been a mature dog when they adopted him, so Amelia wasn’t entirely sure how old he was.
“Good boy,” she said, patting his head and taking a seat on a nearby bench. She could take a break for a few minutes. She fiddled with the clasp on Nigel’s leash. He didn’t need to wear it up here. Her thoughts turned. Isaac and Rachel were graduating high school this year. College lay ahead of them. Rachel going to Georgia and Isaac to the east coast. It was a huge step. Why she felt so apprehensive, though, she didn’t know. Was it because the twins were going to be away from each other for the first time? Because they were going to be so far away? Just general anxiety? She didn’t know. She sighed and leaned back on the bench. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. That there was some key to her fear that she may have overlooked.
Footsteps sounded on the trail and Amelia patted her knee. “Nigel, come. Sit.”
She smiled as Nigel sat down next to her feet. He was one of the most obedient dogs she had ever encountered. Four men and one woman rounded the bend in the trail. Amelia couldn’t help but bristle. Then she noticed their clothes. Joggers. She relaxed a fraction. Two passed her by. Near identical twins. One of them paused half a step as he passed her, his hazel eyes meeting hers. Amelia gave a wary smile. He was good-looking, but she was too old for him. God, she was going to be forty-eight this year. Where had the time gone? The jogger tripped over a root, nearly face-planting on the earth. Amelia resisted the urge to snort.
“Watch your feet, Gabriel!” shouted the one at the front.
The next pair passed her. One tall and slim with black hair and glasses, the other, stockier and more solid, with dark hair somewhere between brown and black, and dark eyes. The woman passed her – well, more of a girl really, there was no way she was over twenty-three. She was black-haired, the very tips dyed white. Amelia couldn’t resist smiling. Warmth welled up in her chest – it was the same warmth she felt when she looked at Rachel. She and this girl would be close in age. They had to be. The girl’s eyes darted to the side, then fixed ahead again as she pounded away up the dirt track. Amelia raised her eyes past the other runners, looking off after the one that had been called Gabriel. Gabriel. She had always liked that name. It had a timeless, comforting kind of quality to it. She watched them round another bend in the trail. Only the one from the front of the line remained. Amelia rolled her shoulders as his eyes, piercing and green, met her own hazel ones. She thought inexplicably of her kitchen window.
The man straightened and called back down the trail. “Hurry up, Frayneson!”
Amelia watched him vanish into the woods, then glanced back in the direction the runners had come from. Frayneson? Unusual name. Not one easily forgotten. Footsteps. Light and well-balanced. Someone who was used to running. Out of nosiness, she waited. The last runner appeared and Amelia paused. He could be no older than twenty. Twenty-two, possibly, but that was pushing it. But the hair ... completely white. And his eyes ... deep brown and burdened. They were eyes that had seen too much. And they were familiar. Why were they so familiar? Their gazes met fully and he fell hard.
“Oh!” Amelia jogged over to him, Nigel at her heels, and offered a hand. “Are you all right? Your friends, they ...”
“I think I’m okay,” he said, taking her hand after a second of hesitation and climbing to his feet. Were those tears that had gathered in the bottoms of his eyes? He must be hurt. He set one foot to the ground and immediately pulled it back up, rubbing his knee. He looked away, tense. “Ooh. No, actually I think I’ve jarred something.”
“Take a seat for a second. I can go ahead and get your friends if you like.”
He waved a hand. “No. I’ll catch them in my own time. I’ll take that seat, though, if you don’t mind.”
“Public bench,” she said with a smile. “Free for everyone.”
The runner smiled. “Thanks.”
There was something, something in that smile that Amelia could have sworn she knew. She sat down next to him, then watched as Nigel walked over and rested his head on the runner’s thigh.
She fought to keep her mouth from opening. “Oh ... he’s not normally friendly with strangers. I hope you don’t mind a bit of dog drool.”
“‘Course not,” grinned the runner, dropping his hand to Nigel’s head. “Hey, buddy. I love dogs. I always wanted one.”
“That’s what my son said. He swindled me into getting Nigel a few years ago.”
The runner paused. It was almost unnoticeable. Amelia wouldn’t have noticed it herself had Nigel not nosed at the runner’s hand for more attention. Did she know him? Nigel was never friendly to new people. She cleared her throat. Nigel liked him, might as well make some conversation.
“So, Frayneson – sorry, I’m nosy, I heard your friends call you that – unusual name. I used to know a man with that last name. Come to think of it, you look a lot like him. Your forehead and cheekbones are the same as his were.”
“Really?” The runner looked over, a few strands of white hair settling on his forehead. “Did you say ‘used to’?”
She smiled, then the expression fell. “Long story. I nearly married him. Decided not to at the last moment. Got cold feet. We stayed friends for a while, but he died not long afterward. A freak hunting accident. Huge shame. He was a good man.”
“I’m sure he was.” The runner looked away and half of his smile faded. Amelia scanned his face. There was a melancholy hidden behind his eyes. As though he had just been told the most gut-wrenching news.
He cleared his throat. “If you think my last name is unusual, you should hear my first.”
That expression – half smiling, a kind of backward, masked humor – she could swear she knew it. “Do tell.”
“Imorean. Imorean Frayneson.”
Amelia smiled. His name. It was a pleasant sounding one, but also one that she felt she knew well. Or at least should have known. “Well, nice to meet you, Imorean. I’m Amelia. You in college around here?”
Imorean’s eyebrows rose, then fell. “Kind of. I’m here to reconnect with some people. I’ve been gone for the last ten years or so.”
“Reconnecting with childhood friends is good. I’m sure my two will be doing the same in the next few years. They’re both heading off to college this year. Twins, like your running companions, but fraternal. Must be about your age, actually.”
A smile crossed Imorean’s face. “College? Where to?”
“Isaac is off to East Carolina. Rachel is going to University of Georgia. Leaving the nest. I’ll miss them, but still, it’s nice to see them spread their wings.”
“I bet,” he replied. There was something in his tone that caught Amelia’s attention. Some inflection that she had heard before. Niggling. Since she had laid eyes on him, things had been familiar about him. But she couldn’t place him.
“Imorean, you’ll have to forgive me for this. I had a car crash about ... well, about ten years ago and my memory hasn’t been what it should be since. Do we know each other from somewhere? I could swear I’ve seen you before.”
He perked up, serious eyes alert. “Do you have some time on your hands?”
“I have time and where I know you from is really stumping me. You seem so familiar. But what about your friends? They’ll be a long way ahead of you now.”
“Believe me, I can catch them. I’m a lot faster than I look.”
Amelia smiled. There was something in Imorean’s tone that implied much more than he said. “I’m intrigued.”
He smiled, his eyes lingering on Blowing Rock in the distance. She wondered for a heartbeat if he had a deeper affiliation with the town than he had said.
“You want to know where you know me from, right?”
“Something tells me that this might be quite a tale.” There was something, something about him that caught her. And it wouldn’t let go.
Brown eyes sparkled with humor. “Think you’re up for a story?”
Amelia felt herself smile. “I love stories. So do my children. Try me.”
“Mind if I finish up your hike with you? We can walk and talk.”
“Well, Nigel seems to like you, so I think the decision has already been made.”
Imorean laughed. A familiar sound. A sound that, strangely, brought tears to her eyes. She fought them away and stood. She patted her leg to keep Nigel at her side.
“There’s a familiarity about you, Imorean. I don’t know how to describe it. Some part of me says I’d like to hear what you have to say. Even if it doesn’t tell me where I know you from.”
Imorean stood and stretched, flexing his leg a few times. Seriousness dropped back over his eyes. “I don’t know where to begin and it’s not a very happy story.”
“Does it have a happy ending, at least?” She leaned down and patted Nigel once.
He paused. “I don’t know yet.”
“Then get to the ending and I’ll tell you if I think it’s happy. Provided a story has a happy ending, it often makes the parts in the middle feel less sad. The beginning is normally a good place to start.” Amelia had to keep herself from reaching out to him as a flash of fear crossed his face.
“The very beginning?”
She patted his upper arm gently, not sure how he would respond to a stranger’s touch. “The very beginning.”
Imorean’s worried expression turned thoughtful. His eyes scanned the trees. Amelia followed his gaze. A multicolored feather lay on the ground near the base of a pine tree. A macaw feather? It had to have escaped from somewhere. For some reason, she thought of the color purple. And the color green. Some of the worry broke away from Imorean’s face and a smile tugged at him. A few white hairs fell into his eyes as he nodded. Amelia had to resist the urge to brush them away.
“This story, Amelia, it’s about a lot of things. It’s about you, and me, and Rachel, and Isaac. And a girl named Roxy Daire. About a man named Gabriel, who cared for you. About a man called Vortigern, who changed your life. And about one named Michael, who changed mine. It’s about love and death, good and evil. Life and choice. Things that people know and don’t know. Things that are not human. And things that are.”
Amelia shook her head. Those words. That manner of speaking. So familiar. How, how, could his story – one that sounded so intricate and so foreign – possibly be about her as well? What was it that she didn’t know about him? What was it that she was missing? Her heart beat a little harder in her chest. Roxy. Vortigern. Why did those names stir a memory? Why did the name Vortigern send a shudder run up her spine? Again, she thought of the color purple. Calm. She swallowed and gave him a searching look.
“What do you mean? I don’t know any people called Vortigern or Roxy. They’re unusual names. I’d remember those.”
That smile flickered across Imorean’s face again. “Well, no. You wouldn’t.”
“There was a Gabriel in your group, wasn’t there?”
“Yeah, there was.”
Amelia stopped and looked up into Imorean’s eyes. He looked afraid and apprehensive. But also confident and resolute. Strange as the situation was, she wanted to know him. Imorean smiled. She knew that smile. The same way she knew the names he had spoken. Even his name. Imorean. It sounded sweet in her ears. As though she should know it, too. She knew these names from a dream she had had a lifetime ago. A dream of a lifetime she had never experienced.
“Who are you?”
“Do you want to know? In spite of my story’s sadness, do you want to know?”
There was a thinly veiled warning in his words. Something to say. A story – she had certainly been right there.
“Tell me your story, Imorean.”
He took a breath and brown eyes fixed themselves once more on the mountains. In the corner of her vision, Amelia could have sworn she saw something white ripple against the green foliage. There and gone in less than an instant. He smiled, as though his mind had finally settled on the right words to use to begin. Then Imorean was speaking, his voice carrying across the blue-hazed mountains beyond.
“The baby's nursery was still and quiet. The windows were latched tightly shut, and outside, a small flurry of midwinter snow settled on the windowsill ...”
