chapter six
PRESENTATION
“You never called me this weekend.” Summer winked at me. It was our last class, on Monday afternoon, and I had been avoiding her all day.
“Yeah, dish,” Delilah chimed in. “What’s with the older hottie? Summer told me he’s twenty-two, works at the hardware store, and moved here to ski.”
“That’s about all of it. What more do you need me from me?” I asked.
“Oh, no you don’t... Where did you meet him? Why are your aunt and uncle letting you hang out with him? My mom would freak,” Summer pressed for more answers.
“I met him on a hike,” that sounded good without admitting to the embarrassing falling part. “We are just friends so Aunt Rachel and Uncle Jason are cool with it. Anyway I’m almost eighteen so that’s not such a huge difference in our ages,” I defended myself.
“Friends, I’m sure,” Delilah said with a smirk.
“I like him, he likes me, there’s no kissing or anything involved, so – sounds like a friendship to me. Discussion’s over, Mrs. Beech is looking this way,” I said, thankful for the excuse to end our little chat and avoid any further questions.
“I have, in this box, slips of paper labeled with different important events in the history of the United States. For example, The Great Depression,” Mrs. Beech read from the slip she had just pulled out of the box. “What can you tell me about that event?” she asked in a monotone voice.
Sara Evans raised her hand with that smug, I know everything, smile which seemed to be ever present on her face. Mrs. Beech immediately called on her. “The Great Depression started with The Stock Market Crash of Nineteen Twenty-Nine, years of economic strife followed,” Sara answered, clearly pleased with herself.
“Correct. So Sara, I’m going to give this slip to you. You’re assignment will be to write a three to four page summary of that major event in U.S. History. You will present your paper to the class next week.
“As will all of you,” she addressed the class. “These presentations will help you study for the final exam that you will be taking before Christmas Break. Each of you will present a different event, in the history of the United States, which was covered in class this past semester. Everyone up here to draw,” she said.
We all got up from our seats and went to the front of the class, where she stood holding the box in front of her. One by one, each student drew a slip of paper from the decorated shoe box. Then we all returned to our desks.
“Three to four page summary of the major event, class presentations at random starting next Monday, take notes on your classmates’ presentations.” She ticked off a mental list as she gave her instructions. “Oh, and extra credit will be given for authentic props, visual aids, costumes from the era, et cetera, et cetera. Yes, you can wear a poodle skirt or a leather jacket and jeans if you got something in the Fifties. Please ask for help if you are unsure. This is the last grade before the final,” she finished as the bell rang, excusing us from History.
“It’s President Roosevelt’s New Deal for me,” said Rusty.
“I got Prohibition, yeah flapper costume!” Delilah exclaimed.
“I got our entrance into World War I,” Burke told the group.
“California Gold Rush,” Summer read from her paper.
They turned toward me... it was clearly my turn to reveal my draw. But I stood silent, thinking about the event I’d drawn.
“Emily, what’d you get?” Summer waved her hand in front of my face as she asked.
“Sorry... Spacing... Pearl Harbor,” I mumbled, “and the United States’ entrance into World War II,” I continued.
I knew James and Catherine had opted to relax at home that day. So when I arrived at the house after school, I sought them out. I found them in their study, reading. James was sitting at one end of the couch and Catherine was lying down; her head propped with a pillow and her feet resting in his lap. I envied the comfort and security they each felt in the other’s presence. James looked up from his book and smiled warmly at me.
“Are you both enjoying your day off from the world?” I asked.
“We are thoroughly enjoying it. We decided that today was a day for relaxation, nothing more,” James answered.
“How was your day?” Catherine inquired.
“Just another day spent posing as a high school senior. My history teacher hit me with a good one today. I get to write a paper and give a presentation on Pearl Harbor and the U.S.’s entrance into World War II. Lucky me.” My voice was heavy with sarcasm.
“Oh, sweetie, I know the topic of any war does not thrill you – especially that one,” Catherine said as she sat up.
“Just write a thorough, fact driven paper. You’ll do fine,” James encouraged.
“We get extra credit for wearing a costume or bringing in an authentic prop from the time period,” I added.
“Well, that is up to you. I’m sure we have a few authentic things around here somewhere,” Catherine walked over and firmly planted her hands on my shoulders. “You decide,” she gave me a reassuring smile and hugged me tightly.
“I’ll think about it,” I said as I turned to leave the room.
“Don’t worry, you’ll do us proud,” James encouraged again.
“Now you actually sound like my guardian and I’m the high school kid that desperately needs to do you proud,” I said with a sigh as I walked out of their study and headed toward my room.
“I’m proud of Catherine. I’m proud of you,” James explained quickly before I could escape. “Thank you for taking on the teenage roll and doing it so well,” he added.
“You’re welcome,” I mumbled in response as I reached my bedroom door.
I looked at the clock. It would be at least three hours until my, now nightly, call from Link. I needed a movie, a sci-fi I decided. Space Aliens were the perfect thing for me right now. I was thankful for my collection of movies. They had a way of letting me clear my head and disappear into their fantasy instead of dwelling on and worrying about my reality.
On Friday, Mrs. Beech again stood at the front of the room with the same shoe box from Monday perched in her hand.
“This time, I have a day of the week and a number written on each paper. There will be three presentations per day, each day next week. If you draw Monday-Two, from the box, you will be the second presentation on Monday. You will get fifteen minutes for your presentation followed by a question and answer period. By the end of the week we will be done with our review and the following week is Finals Week. All papers are due Monday though, so keep a copy for your presentation. You all get that?” she asked, making sure we understood, “I’ll walk around the class and you can draw your day,” she finished and started her trek around the room.
I reached in the box, when Mrs. Beech arrived at my desk, and drew out a folded pink slip of paper. I opened it up and revealed the words Friday-Two, written in her bubbly handwriting. Yuck! I was really hoping for Monday, bite the bullet, get it over with ASAP. I turned around in my desk to reveal my draw to the group. Rusty, Summer, Burke, and Delilah each showed their pink slips of paper. Incredibly, we each drew a different day of the week.
The next morning, Link arrived at my house at nine o’clock sharp, again, for another day of skiing. We stayed on Meadows. I wasn’t adventurous enough to try my skills on Lift Ten. It was a long ride to the top. That meant a long way back down. I promised that next weekend we would ski out from my house on Galloping Goose. That trail would bring us to the point where Lift One (Meadows) and Lift Ten (which led to Galloping Goose plus a ton of other trails) met. Then, when we were done for the day, we would just take Lift Ten to the top again and ski down to my house. I wouldn’t have to lug my gear anywhere. Link insisted on doing most of the lugging, so guilt was pushing me to this decision.
We were going out to dinner later, and Link insisted that I bring a change of clothes with me so we wouldn’t have to go back to my house after skiing
. Thankfully, Link knew one of the guys who worked at the ski shop near Lift Four. That meant I didn’t have to change clothes in a bathroom, I had drawn the line there. I was grateful he had made so many ski friends. The offer of a dressing room was much appreciated.
After we were finished skiing, warmed up on a steaming cup of hot chocolate, all changed back into regular clothes, and our ski gear packed in the back of the SUV, I turned to Link, “Let’s get some eats. I love that Chinese place across from the boutique. Can we go there?”
“If that is what the lady wants then that is what the lady will get,” he answered as he bent into a deep bow.
“Stop it,” I giggled. “Let’s go,” I said as I walked toward the passenger side.
Link grabbed my hand, stopping me. “No driving of vehicles tonight, milady,” he said, keeping up with his charade.
“Okay, Mr. Knight, in shining armor, how shall we get to the restaurant? On horseback? Or perhaps in a carriage?” I surmised.
“In a carriage, of sorts,” he answered and held out his arm for me to take.
He led me past the shops in Mountain Village toward the base of the snow. We turned left on the walkway between the base of Lift Four and the ski center where we had purchased our season passes. He guided me up a flight of snowy metal stairs and over to the entrance of the Gondola.
Link smiled that brilliant smile. “Your carriage awaits.”
“Thank you, brave knight.” I smiled back, enjoying the game.
It was just starting to get dark as the gondola rose up to the top of the mountain. I looked back at Mountain Village and down at the houses below our carriage. The view from up so high was incredible. Why hadn’t I done this before? We rose a thousand feet in the air and came to a transition point, at over ten thousand feet in elevation. Some people were getting out of their gondolas, to go to dinner at the restaurant that sat at the top. We stayed on for the rest of the ride, down to the town of Telluride.
As the gondola started its descent, I looked down at the tiny town of Telluride with awe. It was breathtaking from such a height. Little lights twinkled from houses, streetlights, and the various trees that were decorated for the Holiday Season. It was a scene out of a picture book. How could I have lived in this place so long and not experienced the true beauty of the little town, as seen from up in the gondola?
“Thank you,” I whispered to Link. I squeezed his hand, “It’s beautiful.”
“I know,” Link answered and pulled my hand up to his lips.
We rode the rest of the two thousand foot drop in silence, enjoying the beauty of Telluride, in December, all aglow, at night. After exiting the gondola we walked up to Colorado Avenue and over to the Chinese restaurant. I glanced down at our hands, fingers intertwined, as we walked. They looked so perfect together, our hands, meant to be.
Our jackets were instantly removed when we entered the warm restaurant. The small room was overly noisy from a large party sitting in the back. I immediately ordered for the two of us as soon as were sat at a table. War Wonton Soup for two, House Special Double Pan Fried Noodles, and Orange Chicken – all my favorites. To pass the time, while we waited for our meal, we scanned the paper place mats in front of us to find out where our birth year landed in the Chinese Zodiac and which animal was assigned to each of us.
“I’m a Rabbit,” Link pointed out.
“Oh how cute, you’re a bunny.” I smiled at him.
“R A B B I T,” he spelled, “Rabbit, not bunny. What cute little animal are you?”
“A cute little Rooster,” I replied.
Link looked at the placemat, his expression contemplative. “You said you’re turning eighteen in February right?”
“Yeah,” I answered. Oh crap, what year did I look up? “Oh yeah, stupid me, I’m a Monkey.”
“Okay, that makes sense, silly monkey,” he grinned.
“You are not disappearing for Christmas are you? I’ve already talked it over with Aunt Rachel and Uncle Jason, and we’ve decided you should come over to our house. Please say yes.” I gave him my best puppy dog eyes, pleading for his compliance.
“I don’t want to impose...”
“You aren’t imposing. Say yes,” I said and then mouthed, “Yes – Yes – Yes,” to him.
“Okay, okay, yes,” Link gave in.
“Yay!” I exclaimed, in a whisper, as I clapped my hands together.
Our waiter arrived at the table with the soup. He placed a larger bowl in the center of the table and then ladled soup into each of our small bowls. As he finished, another waiter passed by carrying a tray filled with eight or more glasses from the bar. In slow motion, it seemed, I watched as a toddler from the large party in the back escaped his mother’s grasp and ran between the two waiters. A stunt coordinator on a movie set couldn’t have timed the next moment any better. The toddler bumped our waiter off balance. He stumbled into the other waiter, carrying the heavy tray. The tray tipped and the glasses came crashing down. Glass shards flew in all directions, mostly hitting the two waiters on their aprons and causing no damage to them. But a few flew into my bare arms, piercing my skin.
Link’s eyes widened with concern. I panicked, and ran for the bathroom in the back of the restaurant. I closed the door behind me, locking it, and examined my arms. Why couldn’t I have worn a sweater? Why the short sleeves tonight? One, two, three... I counted six shards of glass. I carefully pulled the first one from my skin.
“Emily, are you alright?” Link pounded on the door.
“I’m fine. I just freaked,” I answered as I pulled out the second and then the third.
“Open the door, I need to see that you’re okay,” he implored.
Four...
“Just a second,” I breathed
Five...
“Emily, please,” Link begged, and his voice cracked.
Six...
I splashed water on my arms and dried them with a paper towel. I ran some more water in the sink to remove the few drops of blood that had escaped my wounds as I pulled out the shards. I looked at my arms. Everything looked normal. It was going to be fine, I lied to myself.
“Emily,” his voice had an edge now, panic had set in.
“I’m fine, I promise,” I said as I opened the door. I knew my eyes were still anxious. My heart was beating a little too fast. “I just panicked and ran in here to look.”
“Show me your arms,” he ordered.
I held them out for his inspection, “It was nothing just a few bits of glass landed on them but no damage was done,” I lied.
“I saw glass in your arms,” he insisted. “There are drops of blood on the table.”
“Maybe they were from one of the waiters. That little kid’s alright, isn’t he?” I asked trying to shift the focus away from me.
“I think so,” he looked confused again. “Are you sure you are unharmed?”
“I am perfectly fine,” I swore.
The waiter walked back to where we stood, “The table is all clean now. I’m so sorry. Are you Okay? Do you still want your food?” he asked, openly concerned.
“I’m fine, thank you. And yes, we will still be dining,” I answered.
We walked back to the table, where our dinner was waiting for us. All evidence of the mishap had been erased while I was in the restroom. Except for the soggy floor, and the concerned faces of the patrons and staff, I could pretend everything was as it was before. But then, there was the one overly concerned face, sitting across from me, staring at me in disbelief. I couldn’t pretend he would remain as he was before.
I chatted excessively about skiing, the kids at school, and the boutique. I talked to fill the silence and the tension that came my way, radiating from across the table. After twenty minutes, maybe more, Link began to act like his old self again. He talked about work and told me some of the funny stories about the different people that would come into the store. He told me how he skied with Ron, a co-worker, this past week. He described the view from the top of See
Forever, one of the trails they skied together. My worries eased some, but I could still make out the lingering doubt that would escape from of his eyes from time to time, and the way he kept glancing at my arms.
We walked back to the gondola after we left the restaurant. Link reached for my hand, his grip gentler than before. I wondered if he still thought I was injured. I was ruining this, I could feel it. I wasn’t normal, I didn’t deserve this. The gondola ride didn’t hold the same magic as it had earlier that evening. My “carriage” was no longer filled with anticipation and wonder. Now it was filled with uncertainty, doubt, and questions I couldn’t truthfully answer.
Link drove to my house and helped me unload all of the day’s ski gear.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” I asked.
“Working,” he immediately answered.
“Oh, that sounds about as fun as my day will be. I have to finish a history paper and prepare a class presentation. I really need to crack down. You want to trade?” I offered with a weak smile.
“No thanks, I’m done with that. Once was enough for me,” he mirrored my smile.
“Yeah,” I answered. For me too, I thought.
“What’s the paper about?”
“Pearl Harbor and the U.S.’s entrance into World War II. I’m going to wear a dress from the Forties for extra credit. Very cool,” I said.
“I’d like to see that.” He smiled a more genuine smile.
“Meet me after school Friday and you can.”
“It’s a date.”
“Goodbye, Link, thanks for tonight,” I whispered as I gave him an awkward hug.
“You’re welcome,” he whispered in return, and then his lips grazed my forehead with a gentle kiss. My skin seemed to smolder from the warmth of his lips for hours after he left.
The following week passed slowly. Delilah looked perfect, dressed as an adorable flapper for her presentation on Prohibition. It was Rusty’s turn the next day and, seeing no need for extra credit, he wore no costume and brought no props. Wednesday was Burke’s turn and he brought in a helmet that belonged to a relative who had fought in the war. On Thursday we learned all about the Gold Rush from Summer. She went the extra mile for her extra credit and brought in a bucket of sand. Hidden inside were small rocks she’d painted with gold spray paint. She put water in the bucket at school and had the class simulate panning for gold. Summer was an overachiever. I told myself – if she can do all of that, then I can wear a costume and give a simple presentation the next day.
That night I called Link, I hadn’t heard from him all week. I kept hoping I hadn’t ruined everything, but this silence was a deafening sign. As the phone began to ring I hoped for voicemail. Then I could leave a message telling him not to bother with seeing me tomorrow after school. “Oh crap,” I whispered as the thought occurred to me that maybe he had already forgotten and this call would just remind him. I was just about to hang up when I heard his voice.
“Hello,” he answered.
I tried to sound nonchalant. “Hey, Link, It’s Emily.”
“Hi, Emily.” He sounded distant.
“So maybe now wasn’t a good time to call. Sorry...”
“No I’m sorry. I sort of broke our routine. I’ve just had a really busy week and that is my lame excuse for why I haven’t called you.”
“Don’t apologize. I’m just calling because tomorrow is my presentation, but you don’t need to worry about meeting me after school. So just forget it, it’s no big deal.” I got the words out hurriedly, hoping he would agree.
“No, I said it’s a date, I’m not going to back out. Where should I meet you?”
I was torn between my desperate need to be with him and the reality that it would be better if I never laid eyes on him again. “Aunt Rachel is dropping me off at school tomorrow morning, so I’ll be walking to the boutique after school. You can just look for me on Colorado, or meet me at the boutique, or not. Whatever you decide is fine.” I gave him a free pass, not wanting him to feel obligated.
“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he replied.
“Goodbye,” I whispered.
“Goodbye.”
I actually had one authentic outfit from the Forties. It was purchased in Nineteen Forty-One. The outfit consisted of three pieces – a skirt, a shirt, and a jacket. The skirt and jacket were sewn from deep red wool. The jacket had wide shoulders and was tailored to cinch in at the waistline. The lapels were adorned with gold stitching. A neat row of big gold buttons ran down the front. The skirt was just about knee length and would flare if I spun. I owned matching suede leather, peep-toe heels as well.
I had received permission from my science teacher, the class I had before history, to leave ten minutes early so I could change into my outfit. I’d styled my hair before I left the house and hoped that it would hold up all day. When I looked in the mirror after science, I breathed a sigh of relief, it had made it through the day just fine. Once I’d adjusted my make-up, to coincide with the time period, my look was complete.
I gazed in the mirror, amazed at the transformation. This did not look like Emily Johnston, seventeen-year-old high school senior, living in Telluride. Someone else entirely was staring back at me. She looked a bit older, more sophisticated, well put together. I smiled at her and she smiled back. We could do this. Get into that classroom, get through the presentation, and then class will be over, I told myself. I walked out of the school restroom and made my way to History.
“Hey, Emily, you look great,” Rusty winked at me and Summer lightly punched him in the arm.
“Wow, that’s so cool. Is it vintage?” Summer asked.
“Yeah, it is pretty isn’t it?” I twirled and let the skirt flair up around my legs.
“Your hair and make-up are perfect too, you did some good research. All I did was wear a left-over costume of my mom’s,” said Delilah.
“Thanks, guys.” I smiled as I took my seat.
I was finally feeling confident. When my turn came, I stood in front of the class and gave a brief but precise rundown of the events that led to the attack on Pearl Harbor and how the US then entered World War II. I answered every question posed, by the students and Mrs. Beech, and even elaborated on some of the details I was more familiar with. Everyone complimented my attire and Mrs. Beech gave me her – job well done – nod when I was finished. Yay! I got through it just fine.
As the bell rang to dismiss us from class I took off my peep-toes and placed them back in their box. I slipped on my sheepskin boots and put on my long winter coat. It was cold outside and I had a bit of a walk, the boutique was nearly on the opposite end of town. I said goodbye to everyone and walked out the door. The second my feet hit the main road I saw him.
Link was waiting for me just off the school grounds. He was motionless, watching me walk toward him, his stare intense. Then I remembered the hair and make-up, it probably looked out of place. My outfit was well hidden by the thick down quilted coat. I smiled as I stepped in front of him.
“I’m dressed to the nines under here,” I said as I opened my coat for a quick flash of my outfit and then securely closed it again. “You like my hair?”
“You look swell. Is that Forties appropriate?”
“Close enough. What do you want to do? I need to change, but not until after you’ve had a chance to appreciate this marvelous outfit with my coat off and my kicks on,” I patted the box that held my shoes.
“Would my apartment be too weird? Or, we could just head over to the boutique,” Link said, his gaze still locked on my face.
“Your apartment would be fine,” I answered.
We walked in silence, fingers intertwined, the short distance to his apartment. I could hear the water from the river trickling nearby as we walked up the steps to his door. The inside of his apartment was sparse but functional. A black leather couch was positioned against the far wall with a glass coffee table centered in front. His flat screen TV and video gaming system were opposite the couch. Two sma
ll picture frames rested on the TV cabinet. I picked up the first one. There were three smiling faces posed by a snowy tree, a boy and two adults. It was Link at around eight years old with, I assumed, his parents. The second frame held a picture of Link at his High School Graduation, his Grandma and Grandpa on either side of him.
“Is this your last picture of her?” I asked, remembering what he had told me about his Grandma’s death.
“Yes,” he answered.
“She looks so proud of you. I can see it in her eyes. Your Grandpa looks just like you. You two have the same mouth.” I was struck by the familiar again. “I swear this is déjà vu,” I whispered.
“Do you want a drink?” Link asked from the kitchen.
“Water would be great. I’ll be back in a sec.” I smiled as I left the room. I went into his bathroom and took off the warm coat. I changed my shoes and then smoothed out my hair and fixed my make-up.
When I emerged from the bathroom Link was sitting on his couch. I twirled for him. “You like?” I asked as I came to a stop in front of him.
His expression turned quizzical again. He sat frozen, thinking. He got up without saying a word, crossed the room, and opened a door. I peeked inside, it was a small storage closet. He pulled out a box and bent over it.
“What are you doing, Link?” I asked, confused.
“Just give me a second. I just remembered something that has been bugging me since the day I saw you at that dance,” he answered as he found what he was looking for. He pulled a photo album out of the box and sat on the couch.
“What?”
“Hold on, I’m looking,” he said as he rapidly paged through the book, searching for a photo. He paused, focused on a particular page and then looked up at me, scanning me from head to toe. He looked back at the photo album, and then back at me. “Oh my God,” he breathed.
I grabbed the album from his hands, desperate to know what had disturbed him. There were two black and white photos on the page. One was of a man and a woman standing in front of a house. The other was of the same woman and a little boy sitting on a porch swing. I sat down, still holding the book, and traced my fingers along the edges of the photographs. They were taken so long ago, but I remembered them.
“Where did you get these,” I murmured, my eyes stinging with tears that desperately wanted to flow.
“They belonged to Grandpa,” Link answered.
“That’s him, isn’t it?” My voice broke as I pointed to the little boy.
“Yes,” he whispered.
“I guess I see the similarities now, you look an awful lot like him. I wonder why it never clicked up here,” I said knocking my head with my hand.
“That’s the same skirt, the same jacket, the same shoes, the same hair... That’s you,” he stumbled on the words.
“I couldn’t get rid of it. It was my favorite outfit. His favorite outfit too.” I sniffled as I traced the first photo.
“That’s Grandpa’s older brother, he died in the war. Grandpa used to talk about him a lot, especially after my parents died. He would bring out the photo album and tell me stories,” he spoke rapidly, his voice cracking, getting frantic.
“That’s my Roger,” I wept, the tears freely streamed down my face. “I should go now. I have to warn them. We’ll have to leave right away. We’ll be found out now. Please don’t tell anybody. That’s probably too much to ask...” I sobbed. I wasn’t sure if he could even understand the words, as I struggled to talk through my tears. I tried to get up from the couch but Link held me in place.
“Stay here, please,” he pleaded with me. “I’m not going to tell anybody anything. I just want answers. I couldn’t get your face out of my head, from the moment I laid eyes on you. I kept racking my brain, trying to figure out where I’d seen it before. I just would never have imagined this.” He leaned back and started massaging his temples, keeping his eyes closed.
“No, you wouldn’t have, you couldn’t have. We count on it,” I said, my sobs now gone. My voice was more steady, but the tears continued to flow. I placed my hand on his leg. He flinched and stood up, as if my touch had burned. “I’m sorry,” I murmured a weak apology and moved my hand back to my lap. “It really is probably better if I just leave now.”
“What are you? A vampire? No, I can’t imagine you killing and drinking blood, plus you are walking around in the daylight. But you are awfully pale. Maybe a witch, and you’ve cast some sort of a spell to keep yourself young.” Link paced back and forth across the room. “How are you doing this? Were you following me, toying with me?” he questioned. “Is this some sort of twisted game that you play.”
“Slow down. I will answer all of your questions, I promise. But you must understand, finding out who you are is a great shock to me as well. I, I’m having a hard time believing it,” I stammered. “I had no idea that you were in anyway related to my Roger. After seeing you for the first time, I felt this strange need to be near you. I couldn’t explain it to myself, but I had this pressing desire to know more about you. And that goes against every rule I’ve set up for myself. You see, every time you smiled it was as though I’d seen that smile before. Now I know I had, on Roger. You two have the same mouth, the same brilliant smile,” I paused.
“Grandpa said the same thing. ‘Keep smiling kid, you remind me of my big brother when you do.’”
“He was absolutely right,” I continued. “But to answer some of your other questions about me – I am not a vampire. I do not ingest blood. As for the pale skin, tanning is actually tissue damage and my body... kind of... fixes that, so I am constantly pale. I am not a witch. I have no powers... well not exactly what you’d call a power. Honestly, I have no idea know why I am the way I am... or how I got to be this way,” I finished and looked at his face. It was calmer now.
“You’re not a seventeen year old girl,” he accused, standing far across the room, needing to say aloud the truth as he now understood it.
“If you will sit and listen. I will tell you,” I said, keeping my voice as smooth and calm as I could. “I will tell you how I came to know what I am. I’ll start when I met your great uncle, that’s what Roger would have been to you if you’d had the chance to know him. To me he was my life, my love, before the war took him away from me, from your grandpa, from you.”
****