Isabel broke a twig off the apple tree that overhung the balcony and flung it away. “Pressured. Cornered almost. And it’s not that he’s unkind,” she said, looking at Cordan. “I just don’t feel free.”

Cordan stood up from the railing and took one step closer to her. He looked down at the ground and then up at her. “Is there anyone else you’re interested in?”

A cold breeze blew against them and Isabel shivered.

Just then a bell sounded inside.

“Dinner is served!” called Isabel’s father from the dining room.

“Hold that question,” Isabel said, shivering violently. She took one step towards the doors when suddenly Cordan was right beside her, wrapping his suitcoat-covered arm around her and gently rubbing her arm to warm her. She did not react, but inside she was stunned. It was so kind, protective, thoughtful, gentle…and not really necessary because in five steps she would be back inside the warm house. But he had felt the impulse to comfort her anyway. Then people appeared in the doorway, and with a grateful glance up at him, Isabel stepped away from him to go inside.

When they returned, her younger brother Edward eyed them suspiciously. Isabel heard him whisper to William (rather too loudly), “Hmm, Anne and Joash are holding covert meetings outside. Do you think they are scheming up alibis?”

Isabel stifled a giggle. Edward was only thinking about the game, while she and Cordan had completely forgotten their characters. She glanced at Cordan again and they shared a smile.

“I think we’re going to lose,” he laughed.

She swatted him playfully. “Nonsense, we’re just getting started!” she said.

Since when did she tease Cordan like this?

The host had given them all assigned seats at the table. Isabel found herself in between Valerie and a nice older gentleman who was a friend of her father’s. Cordan was quite a way down the table, and John, thankfully, was nearly out of sight.

They were halfway into the first course when “Rose” (Isabel’s sister Merilee) cleared her throat and spoke up very loudly: “I must tell you all what a harrowing ride I had home today. I am absolutely sure I was being followed by two men in black coats. They were trying to catch up to me, so I galloped as fast as I could, and I almost broke my poor horse’s leg in the pouring rain!”

“That is terrible, Rose,” said Mr. Amberlin. “Could you see their faces?”

“Not very well,” Rose said, taking a sip from one of the few silver goblets on the table, “but they looked strangely familiar. In fact—” she peered around the table, studying the faces of the guests. “Perhaps—” at this point she cut off with a bloodcurdling shriek and collapsed, falling out of her chair to the floor. Her goblet fell from her hand, spilling red liquid onto the floor beside her.

The family and their guests bolted to their feet in pretend terror.

“Rose! My sweet sister!” Anne (Isabel) said, kneeling down beside her, for she was playing the role of her sister’s sister even at the party.

“Who has done this deed?” demanded the outraged host (their father).

“She’s been poisoned!” Valerie cried.

“Who filled the goblets?” John asked. “Bring out the cook!”

“Was anyone else near the goblets before dinner?” Joash (Cordan) asked.

“Why yes, didn’t you hear Anne knocking them down when you came in?” Dominic asked.

Anne opened her mouth and then shut it again. That had not been part of the game, but it certainly made her a suspect now. “I just bumped into them on accident,” she said (quite truthfully). “Besides, if I wanted to poison my own beloved sister, why would I risk knocking the poison out of the goblet?”

“My guess is you didn’t knock them all down,” Dominic’s character said.

“So you imply I did it on purpose,” Anne said. “But that makes no sense, for I would not have wanted to draw attention to myself with the goblets immediately after doing the evil deed.”

“A very good point,” said one guest.

“She did not have to knock them down on purpose,” said Joash (Cordan). “It could have been an accident, but she immediately grabbed Rose’s goblet to keep it from spilling the poison!”

“Except that’s not what happened! As anyone can testify who saw how I knocked down every single goblet,” Anne said

“I think we are ignoring a crucial clue,” said Valerie. “Just before she died, Rose was saying she was pursued by two men in black coats. Men who looked familiar. And she seemed about to identify them. So my guess is it may have been one of those men. One who may be here among us right now!”

“Or even if they’re not the murderers, they may be accomplices,” Edward said.

“Maybe our friend Edward—forgive me—Adam—seeks to ward suspicion away from himself by supporting the idea,” John said. “But he himself is one of five black-cloaked men at our table!”

“Rose said ‘coats,’ not ‘cloaks,’” Adam countered.

“I don’t think we should assume that a terrified woman was paying careful attention to minute precision of vocabulary,” said John.

“We must consider all of you men wearing black coats or black cloaks as suspects,” Valerie said. “So that is Adam, Robert, Allen, Philip, and Joash.”

“Whatever happened to questioning the cook?” Joash asked.

“Look at that! Joash is trying to change the subject immediately!” Dominic pointed out.

“Oooh,” went the other guests.

Isabel shook her head, hoping Joash was not the murderer. Wouldn’t it be funny if her dad had switched roles up to make him the murderer after he had joked about not giving him that role?

“I saw these two black-cloaked men,” said an old woman who had not spoken before. “I live next door to Rose—or I did, before tonight’s evil act robbed her from us all! I saw them, and the men were young, no more than forty for sure, with no facial hair.”

“Well that only leaves three,” said Mr. Amberlin.

“What color was their hair?” Miss Barberry asked.

“I couldn’t say exactly,” said the old woman, “but dark.”

“Then that only leaves Philip and Joash,” said Mr. Amberlin.

“Oh no,” Isabel whispered.

“Well, Joash has already drawn suspicion to himself,” Dominic said. “What do you have to say for yourself, sir?”

Poor Cordan did not know what to do. He had never been to a murder mystery before, and he was now out of his element.

“Only that I didn’t do it,” he said with a perplexed smile. “Truly.”

“We certainly don’t have sufficient evidence to condemn him!” Anne said.

“But we have to use what we have,” Dominic said. “I say Joash is the guilty man. All in agreement, raise your hand.”

More than half of the room raised their hands, deaf to Anne’s pleading that they had insufficient evidence.

“I’m sorry, my man, you’ve been voted out,” Mr. Amberlin told Cordan. “You can now show everyone your character card.”

Cordan slapped the card on his leg in good-natured exasperation. Then, standing up, he turned his card face up.

“Innocent,” they read.

“Ah!” “Ughh!” they exclaimed.

“I told you!” Anne cried.

“Well, then it has to be Philip!” Edward said.

The guests all agreed, including Anne, and Philip was voted out. But to their chagrin, when he turned his card over, it also read innocent.

“What have we done?” exclaimed Miss Barberry (Mrs. Amberlin).

“How can that be?” Dominic asked. “They were the only ones with dark cloaks and dark hair.”

“Who told us those were guilty ones?” Anne asked.

“This madam here,” Robert said, “whom nobody really knows and has hardly said a word otherwise.”

“She must have been lying,” Adam said.

“I’m only telling what I saw,” said the little white-haired lady. “If you will recall, I did not say they murdered the little girl. I said, they chased her.”

“It could have been two other dark-haired, black cloaked riders who are not here,” Anne (Isabel) said, exasperated. “In fact, they most likely are not here.”

“The murderer is here, though, that’s what the rules say,” Edward said.

“Shh!” Mr. Amberlin said. “Stay in character!”

“With that consideration,” John said, “I do not trust this stranger. She misled us to punish the wrong men.”

The room voted the unnamed old lady out. There was a consensus of dismayed voices when her card too, revealed her innocence.

“May I have your attention, ladies and gentlemen,” Mr. Amberlin said in a loud voice. “We have reached the end of the allotted time for questioning and accusations. It grieves me to announce that the murderer has escaped unpunished. Guilty party, reveal yourself.”

Dominic stood up, smiling impishly.

“The cook!” they exclaimed.

“We didn’t even know who the cook was!”

“We should have listened to Joash in the first place!” Anne exclaimed. “That’s what he asked before ya’all killed him off!”

“And me too!” John pointed out.

Merilee stood up from where she had been lying on the rug the whole time. “I am now returning as a ghost to haunt you for all time,” she said to her brother Dominic.

The guests laughed.

Isabel pulled at her tight-waisted gown. They had ordered these costumes online. It was their hairstyles that were the tricky part. She and Marilee had redone their hair at least five times before they got it right. But now, as she looked at herself and her 15-year-old sister in the dining room mirror, it was hard to believe that they were not really living in Victorian times. Her brown hair and Marilee’s blonde was done up on their heads and tucked in on top in a smooth dip.

“Are you excited?” Marilee asked her.

“Very!” Isabel exclaimed, lifting Marilee’s hand straight up in the air and twirling her in a circle.

There was a knock at the door. Marilee went to answer it, but Isabel pulled her back. “We have a butler tonight, remember?” she said.

“Oh, right!” Marilee said, stopping herself.

The “butler,” who was actually their cousin William, opened the front door.

Just then their father, a solemn figure with a short, close-trimmed grey beard, entered the dining room from the hall, followed by the youthful, slim figures of Dominic and Edward, all of them dressed in black tuxes. Their beautiful mother swept in next, wearing a gorgeous gown of periwinkle blue, the full skirt rustling delightfully over their marble floors.

“Oh my! Look at this!” exclaimed the first guest, Valerie, a middle-aged woman with straight, bleached-blonde hair. She was wearing a silk gown with no flounces. “This is fantastic! You really have gone all out with this!”

There was another knock at the door. A young couple stood there, the man in some kind of old-fashioned trousers with suspenders over a white dress shirt, and the woman in a dress that looked more appropriate to pioneer America than high society.

“Welcome!” Mr. Amberlin said warmly. Then came another knock, and another. Finally William said, “This handsome gent coming up the walk must be Cordan.”

Isabel jumped just enough to bump into a collection of silver goblets on a side table, sending them crashing to the floor just as the butler opened the door. She blushed beet red and scrambled to pick them up.

Cordan, dressed in a nice black suit and tie, took in everyone and everything with an interested gaze. He admired the Amberlins, who were mostly standing in a line by the door in their formal attire.

“Where is Isabel?” he asked, looking around the dim, candlelit room.

She turned around from the side table where she had just finished putting the goblets back in place.

His expression when he saw her was one of unmarked surprise. She could not tell whether it was good surprise or bad surprise.

Isabel’s father, the host of the party, walked over to him. “Good evening, Cordan,” he said. “It looks like you got your character description all right!”

“Yes, I did,” Cordan said. “Thank you for letting me join last minute.”

“We’re happy to have you,” Mr. Amberlin said. “Here is your name tag.” He handed him a tag which read “Josiah.”

More guests arrived. Cordan was sitting on a side chair studying the menu, chin on his hand, until a tall, thin young man with red hair walked up to Isabel. Cordan’s eyes flew up from what he had been reading. It was Isabel’s former boyfriend, John.

“Hello Anne,” John said. (Anne was the name of the character Isabel was playing for the evening.) “Bit of a cool, drafty evening tonight, isn’t it? Just like last night. Is that why we did not see you at the ball?”

“No, I was getting my shoes polished last night,” “Anne” said. “Just ask Miss Barberry,” she said, motioning to her mother. She walked away without asking John any question or even addressing him by name. But Cordan did see her go up to her father and whisper in his ear, looking at John. Mr. Amberlin seemed to be explaining something, using hushed but animated tones and gesturing as he talked. Isabel did not seem pleased. She walked quickly to the double French doors that led from the living room to the balcony outside. Cordan followed her.

She did not hear him come out. She was standing in front of the railing, facing away from him breathing hard.

“Isabel, are you okay?” Cordan asked gently.

Isabel started. “Oh—hi. I—I will be.” She crossed her arms and rubbed them to ward off the cold.

“Did you know John would be here?”

“No. I didn’t. I just asked Dad why he’s here. He said he didn’t think there would be a problem, that it’s been long enough and John is so good at these murder mysteries, he didn’t think anything of it.”

“Well, if you don’t feel comfortable with it, then I don’t think—” he stopped.

“There’s nothing I can do about it now,” Isabel sighed. “He’s here, and it would be very offensive to ask him to leave.”

Cordan sat down on the balcony railing beside Isabel. “Why does it bother you that he’s here?”

Isabel stared out into the shadowy garden. “I really loved him,” she finally said, “but that love turned into a nightmare. I don’t want to go back to that.”

“I won’t let him hurt you,” Cordan said.

Isabel looked at him. “He won’t hurt me physically. He has a way of capturing my heart and then breaking it.”

Cordan’s eyes smoldered. “Just let him try!”

Isabel stared at him. “What are you saying?”

A cold breeze blew against them and Isabel shivered.

Just then her father opened the door. “We are all waiting on you to get started,” he said. “Hurry and join us for dinner.” He disappeared back into the house.

“I’ll explain later,” Cordan told Isabel. She began shivering violently. She took one step towards the doors when suddenly Cordan was right beside her, wrapping his suitcoat-covered arm around her and gently rubbing her arm to warm her. It was so kind, gentle, and thoughtful…and not really necessary because in five steps she would be back inside the warm house. But he had felt the impulse to comfort her anyway. Then more people appeared in the doorway, and with a quick thank you, Isabel stepped inside.

Before dinner even began, Mr. Amberlin detailed the tragic murder that had taken place the night before, according to the story. A young woman named Rose Elyse had been poisoned at a dinner much like the one they were at now after she had been followed home by three strange men on horseback. The guests’ job tonight was to find the murderer. They had enough information to conclude that the murderer was one of their own party.

“What were you doing last night between the hours of 6 and 8?” John asked Cordan.

“I was at Miss Rose’s dinner party,” Cordan (Joash in the game) admitted.

“Aha,” John said. He moved on to speak to Valerie. “Did you see that gentleman at the dinner last night?” he asked, motioning to Joash.

“Yes, he was sitting right next to Miss Rose!” Valerie said.

“You don’t say,” John said, writing in a little notebook he carried, just like a detective. “More and more suspicious.”

“Did you see him put anything in her goblet?”

“Oh no,” Valerie said. “I don’t think he would have been so obvious.”

“True. Did you notice what time he arrived?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t. I arrived at—um…” Valerie stopped to remember what was on her character information sheet. “Oh yes, I was one of the last to arrive.”

“I noticed,” Dominic spoke up. (His name was Duncan in the game.) “Joash was one of the first to arrive.”

“Hmm,” John said, jotting in his notebook again. “Did you see him anywhere near the goblets before most of the other guests arrived?” he asked Duncan.

“Yes, he was the first to the table,” Duncan said. “The very first.”

“How do you know this? Were you the second?”

“I’m the cook,” Duncan answered. “I saw him when Marilee—I mean when the servants and I were bringing in the food.”

“This is a lot of evidence pointing to Joash,” John said.

“Mm-hmm,” Duncan nodded. “He might be the murderer.”

“Who had access to the goblets while alone?” Isabel asked. “Perhaps one of the servers, or the cook?”

John looked back at Dominic quickly. He had not considered that the cook himself might have poisoned the goblet.

“The cook is never alone,” Dominic (Duncan) said. “I am always around other servants.”

“I’m sure he had his back to them at some point,” Joash said. “He could have slipped some poison into one of the goblets without anyone looking.”

“That wasn’t true for more than a second,” Duncan said. “We are all moving a hundred miles an hour all the time. Tell them, Marilee.”

“It’s true,” Marilee said. “But my name is Ruth.”

“Ruth, sorry,” Dominic corrected himself, laughing.

“You can’t hide anything in the busy kitchen,” John agreed. “An empty dining room, on the other hand…”

Everyone kept questioning one another until dinner was over. When the time was up, everyone wrote their accusations down and placed them in a hat. Then Isabel’s father rose to his feet and read a prepared script:

“May I have everyone’s attention please? I have just received new information from the chief of police relating to the murder last night. Two independent witnesses, including a close relative and a coworker of Duncan, have both stated that the cook said he was going to “get this party jumpin’!” and one of them quoted him as saying, “Rose will be sorry for showing her face at this party!” Not only that, but another witness has just come forward saying she saw the cook personally put Rose’s goblet on the table and that then “he went and washed his hands. I thought it was strange that he was washing his hands after placing unused goblets on the table.”

Some of the guests groaned and others exclaimed.

“Let’s see what the jury ruled,” Mr. Amberlin said, picking up the stack of notes containing everyone’s accusations. He sorted them into piles and then gave a mock groan. “The jury rules that Joash is the murderer.”

The room erupted in exclamations and protest.

“Meanwhile, Duncan, the true murderer, has escaped unpunished!”

“I told you it was him!” Isabel exclaimed.

“So did I!” Cordan cried.

“What have we done?” exclaimed Miss Barberry (Mrs. Amberlin).

“I can’t believe I escaped!” Dominic laughed, “being the cook and all. Probably only because John was pursuing Cordan with a vengeance.”

John shrugged. Isabel looked cross, but Cordan took it all in good stride.

Everyone was talking and good-naturedly arguing about the clues.

“This was a lot of fun!” they said, and, “I can’t believe we were outsmarted by the murderer! I call for a redo!”

“Then you will all have to come back soon for another murder mystery dinner!” said their host.

“I would love that. This was a great time,” said Valerie.

Everyone got up from the table and stood around in groups, talking.

“Isabel, Isabel,” John said as he walked toward her. “Who knew you are a great detective?”

“I knew it was Dominic,” Isabel said. “Why did you kill Joash?”

John laughed. “It’s all part of the game.”

“I almost wonder if you had it out for him. Why would that be?”

“No, I just thought he was guilty.”

“I’m not sure why,” Isabel said.

“It’s okay, Isabel,” Cordan said. “I thought it was funny.”

“Wait, are you actually mad?” John asked her.

Isabel tossed her head and tried to think reasonably. “It’s fine,” she said and walked away.

John looked after her with wide eyes, but he did not follow her. Cordan, on the other hand, did follow her.

“Isabel.”

She turned to face him.

“Why are you upset? I don’t care.”

Isabel’s cross expression disappeared and she smiled briefly. “It’s really fine,” she said. “I know it’s just a game, but I still didn’t think it was very nice of him.”

“I think he really thought I was the murderer.”

“Maybe he did,” Isabel said, seeing John at the door telling her father goodbye.

“My grandpa is going to be stopping by in a little while,” Cordan told her. “He said he has some kind of surprise for me.”

“Isabel!” her mother said, suddenly coming up behind her and putting her hand on her back. “It’s time for your song!”

Isabel sighed. “Okay,” she said.

“Just breathe,” Cordan whispered. “He’s gone.” He gave her hand a quick squeeze.

Isabel smiled and then followed her mother to the living room.

“Everyone, please have a seat,” her father said, motioning towards the old-fashioned arm chairs and couches clustered around the roaring fire. “Our daughter Isabel has a treat for you all tonight. She is going to play Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata.”

Isabel took a seat at the piano and willed herself to calm down. She thought of Cordan hugging her to keep warm. She glanced back at him, and then with a sweet smile, she started to play. Unlike in her dream, she played the entire song flawlessly without a hitch. At the end, everyone erupted with applause. Cordan stood up and clapped louder than all of them.

“That was incredible!” Valerie said.

“Beautiful!”

“Amazing performance!”

“Okay, everyone, thank you!” Isabel said, curtsying and laughing, embarrassed by the excessive praise. But her smile was strained. Only Cordan noticed that something wasn’t right. He came up beside her after the applause had died down.

“You seem disappointed,” he said. “What’s wrong? You couldn’t possibly have played any better!”

Isabel smoothed out her purple ballgown. “Thank you, Cordan! It’s just—I had a dream about playing that song, and I was almost hoping it would be like in the dream,” she confessed. “Which is crazy because in the dream I messed up when my dress caught in a crack in the floor, but the crack revealed this trap door leading to a secret passageway, and you and I went through the passageway and then afterwards everything was changed. I know it’s crazy, but it seemed so incredibly real.”

Cordan’s brow furrowed quizzically. “Everything was changed how?”

“Well—” Isabel stopped and then laughed. “Honestly, the way everything has been the last two days—since the dream!” She looked up, understanding dawning. “I was with you and—” she paused. “It’s hot in here, do you want to go outside?”

He nodded and the two of them went out through the French doors to the back yard. Isabel stopped by the lilac bushes, breathing in their fragrance. It was refreshingly cool after the stuffy house.

“Tell me, Isabel,” Cordan said.

She still hesitated. “I’m afraid to tell you, Cordan,” she admitted.

“Don’t be,” he said. “I want to know what’s in your heart.”

“You’ve been so wonderful ever since you came back,” she said. “And we’ve been spending time together like we never did before, like in my dream.”

“You like spending time with me?” Cordan asked.

Isabel stared into his reflective brown eyes. “More than anything. I always have, Cordan.”

His gorgeous face turned contemplative.

“I love spending time with you too, Isabel.” She realized that he was holding her hand, though when he had taken it, she couldn’t recall. “I feel like I’ve been in a dream of my own the past few years, and I’m only just waking up to actually see you, Isabel, the way I should have seen you all along.”

Isabel started and her hand jerked, but Cordan grasped it firmly but gently. “I couldn’t go back to Arizona without telling you the truth,” he said. Isabel heard a catch in his throat. “As a matter of fact, I wish I didn’t live in Arizona so that I could really date you. I’m saying—in short, I’m saying that I love you, Isabel,” Cordan said, “and I was wondering if you love me, too.”

She stared into his eyes like they were deep wells of water. “Only since the first day I saw you,” she said quietly.

The stars shone brighter and the sweet-scented wind blew harder when Cordan bent down and kissed her in the garden. Their hair blew around them, intermingled. They heard the sound of wood slapping wood, and they looked up, expecting to see someone coming out the back door, but it was just a window shutter slapping against the house in the wind. Cordan turned back to Isabel and kissed her again.

“You don’t have to date me,” Isabel whispered. “I love you already. I’ve loved you all along. I just have to ask, what was it that changed your mind about me? You told the whole family a year ago that you didn’t want a relationship with anyone.”

“That is how I was feeling then,” Cordan admitted, standing up straighter. “I had just broken up with Myra after two months. You know. It was short but my feelings were strong. Afterward I didn’t care about anything except God and music really. But I don’t know, when I heard you play your song tonight, I just got to thinking. I could share my passion with another. I could share my passion with you. And it would be a thousand times better. I started to think, what if I could go back in time and make different choices—what if I hadn’t left so suddenly? Would it have changed anything? Would you have wanted me then? But more importantly, do you want me now?”

Teardrops sparkled in Isabel’s eyes as she whispered, “It really did come true!”

“What came true?”

“My dream. The secret passageway. At last I understand it!” Her eyes grew wide. “It seemed to lead nowhere, but that’s not true!”

“What do you mean?” Cordan asked.

“As soon as you and I came out of the passageway, events from the past began to happen all over again—but this time, differently—the way they ‘should have’ happened the first time. Giving a second chance. To both of us.”

She told him her whole dream in detail.

“Finally you stood there breathlessly, still holding me. ‘To answer your question from earlier,’ you said, “you were right. That passage must have been a doorway to our dreams. How that is possible, I have absolutely no idea.’

“’I have no idea either,’ I said. “But ‘Everything is possible to the one who believes.’” Faith was the only thing we were missing.’

“’I’ve found my faith, Isabel,’ you said. “Seems like it was back in that tunnel, strange as that sounds.’

“’It was a strange tunnel, no mistake,” I agreed. “Hey Cordan, where is your car?”

“We were close to the driveway now, and the only car there was a brand new red Corvette.

“’I don’t know,’ you said. ‘Whose car is this? Wait—what??’

“No, no, no,” Cordan interrupted her retelling of the dream. “You dreamed I owned a Corvette! That’s a good one! It’s too bad not all of the dream came true! But you know what?”

“What?”

“Even if I owned a Corvette, I could not be any happier than I am at this moment!”

Isabel smiled into his eyes. “Neither could I!”

“I just have one more question, though,” Cordan said, wrapping his arm around her. “Do you really not want me to date you?”

Isabel laughed. “I didn’t mean I don’t want to go on dates with you. I meant you don’t have to date me for me to know you’re the one.”

“Okay, good,” Cordan said. “Because I was really looking forward to going out with you!”

“I am too,” Isabel said, raising her chin and smiling into his face in such a peaceful, happy, comfortable way Cordan had never thought her so adorable.

“Come here!” Cordan cried, lifting her into his arms and spinning her around and around in circles while they both burst out laughing. This time it did bring Isabel’s family outside.

“Someone’s having fun,” Dominic said, smiling archly.

Cordan set Isabel down, but their smiles remained and they kept their arms around each other.

“Celebrating those new wheels, huh?” Edward asked.

“What are you talking about?” Cordan laughed.

“The car!” Edward said, motioning to the driveway.

“Huh?” Cordan said. He and Isabel took a few steps around the curving driveway and quickly spotted a dazzling blue Corvette.

“Whose car is this?” Cordan asked.

Isabel suddenly burst out laughing uncontrollably.

“You! You must have something to do with this!” Cordan demanded. “You were just telling me about that dream!”

“No, I honestly have no more idea than you do!” Isabel said. “But literally everything from my dream is coming true! From the kiss to the car!”

“Try looking at the ignition,” Cordan’s grandfather said, appearing out of nowhere, “and I think you’ll find the keys.”

“Grandpa!” Cordan exclaimed. “What is this??”

“I told you I had a surprise for you, didn’t I? A friend is offering a great price for it. I know you love Vettes. Anyway, he said he’d let you test drive it.”

“How much is he asking?” Cordan asked.

His grandfather gave him a price.

“Really?” Cordan said.

“It was his wife’s, and now that she’s gone, he wants someone else to be able to enjoy it. He doesn’t really need the money. It’s still a decent sum.”

“It is, but not something I can’t afford,” Cordan said.

“So try it out!” his grandpa said. “Why don’t you take your little lady for a spin?”

Cordan looked at Isabel. She smiled, giggling at the craziness of the whole thing. Cordan shrugged and opened the door. Isabel ran around to the other side and hopped in beside him.

“What is this??” Cordan whooped, as he turned the car around and whipped down the driveway. “Pinch me, Isabel. Tell me I’m dreaming!”

“This time neither one of us is dreaming!” Isabel said.

“Look at this baby! Are you trying to tell me that somehow this car could be mine? I wonder what other dreams are going to come true in this world!” Cordan said as they zipped onto the highway.

“I guess we’ll just have to find out!” Isabel said, leaning over and kissing him on the cheek.

“Hey stranger,” she texted. “When are you going to come back and visit us? We haven’t seen you in nearly a year!”

She finally slipped out of bed and padded downstairs to get a glass of water. She caught a glance at herself in the mirror on the stair landing. Her hair was sticking up in a hump in the back from the way she had been sleeping. After she filled her glass in the kitchen, she heard voices in the living room. Peeking around the corner, she saw her brothers Dominic and Edward sitting on the couch playing a video game with the sound turned off, and there, sitting beside them was Cordan, cracking jokes at the game. Isabel almost dropped her glass.

“Cor--!” She stopped herself before the syllable was out of her mouth. She remembered her view of herself in the mirror. She could not let him see her like this! She was still in her pajamas and looked like death warmed over, she thought. Fleeing silently up the stairs, she jumped in the shower, then picked out her favorite t-shirt and jeans, brushed and blow-dried her hair, and did her makeup.

She came down the stairs forty-five minutes later. He looked up and saw her.

“Cordan!” she exclaimed.

“Hello Isabel!” he said, standing up to hug her. He was slim, strong and fit, with hair the color of midnight, long eyelashes, and a gorgeous smile. Something about his presence was overpowering. His attractiveness almost made her stagger.

“What are you doing here?” Isabel exclaimed, flushing with excitement. “I literally just texted you this morning to ask when you were coming next!”

“I know!” Cordan laughed. “I guess you didn’t see I texted you back.” He held up his phone for her.

“Check your living room😊” he had written.

Isabel laughed. “I’m so glad to see you! We’ve really missed you.” She felt a lump in her throat.

“I’ve missed you too,” Cordan said. “You look great!”

“Thanks!” Isabel said, surprised at the compliment. “Wha—What are you doing right now?”

“Well, since Dominic and Edward are heading off to work, right now I’m getting ready to go to my book club,” Cordan said. “You know, you came to a meeting one time.”

Isabel stared for a second. “Yes,” she nodded. Hadn’t she just been thinking about that a few minutes ago? “I wish I could have a do-over on that one,” she heard herself say.

“Do you want to come with me?” Cordan asked.

She could not believe her ears. He had never taken her anywhere.

“Sure!” she said, trying not to sound as enthusiastic as she was.

A few minutes later she was sitting next to Cordan in his car as he drove through the city. He opened the windows, and a sweet, warm breeze billowed Isabel’s hair.

She turned to face him. “How long are you in town for?”

He looked over at her before turning his eyes back to the road. “I haven’t quite finalized that yet. Most of the week at least.”

Isabel leaned back with a sigh. “I’m glad. It’s been way too long!”

He nodded. “With the band, it’s hard to get away.”

“I know. You all are amazing. I watch all of your shows online.”

“All of them?” Cordan was surprised.

“All of them. You haven’t seen my raving in the comments on every one? Well, I suppose it’s impossible to read them all!”

“It really is,” Cordan said. “But thanks, Isabel! That means a lot. We have just decided to do a tour in Asheville in May.”

“Do you mean it?! That is so close! I’ve been longing all year to come and hear you in person!”

“I’ll send you a ticket,” Cordan said. “Courtesy of the artist. Or one of the artists,” he laughed.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Isabel said. “I will very happily support you with a ticket purchase.”

“I want to,” Cordan said, turning to look at her. “It’s my gift to you.”

Isabel did not know what to say. “Thank you, Cordan,” she said, getting emotional.

They pulled into the parking lot of the coffee shop. After parking the car, Cordan got out and came around to Isabel’s side to open her door for her.

She stepped out, eyes wide.

“Come, my lady,” he said, tucking her hand into his arm. “Preparedest thou thy Shakespeare?”

Isabel laughed out loud. “I fear not, my good sir. I have been most negligent of my Shakespeare of late.”

“Tsk, tsk,” he mock-scolded her. “Whatever shall we do with thee?”

“I see you two are ready for the meeting!” laughed Dane at the door. Isabel recognized him as the book club organizer. He held the door open for them, and they went through ahead of him.

“Are we the first ones here?” Isabel asked, looking around at the nearly empty coffee shop.

“We are,” Cordan said. “You can choose wherever you want us to sit.”

“All right,” Isabel said happily, not missing that little word “us.” “Here,” she said, sitting on a small, cute blue loveseat.

Cordan sat down beside her. There was just enough room for the two of them to sit comfortably. He put his arm on the back of the chair behind her. Dane took a chair at the front of the alcove, and others began filing in.

“Oh, who is your friend, Cordan?” asked one pretty young woman with long, reddish brown curls.

“This is Isabel,” he said.

He introduced her to all the others and then the meeting began. Isabel thought about how completely different this was from the first time she had come when she had been embarrassed and isolated. Now she felt overwhelmingly welcome.

They all took turns reading from Shakespeare and discussing their thoughts on it. After Isabel shared some ideas about MacBeth, Cordan smiled. “That is a brilliant analysis, Belle.”

Her heart beat faster. Why was he treating her so differently today?

When the meeting ended, everyone thanked her for coming and asked her to come back the following week.

“That was so much fun!” she said when she and Cordan were walking back to the car.

“I’m really glad you came with me!” Cordan said. “You really are a lot of fun!”

What had come over Cordan today, Isabel wondered again. This was the way she had always dreamed of him acting towards her.

“I’ve never spent time alone with you,” Cordan said. “I’m seeing another side to you. You are always a sweetheart, but you have some sass, too!” He laughed. “I love seeing this side of you!”

Isabel felt warm inside. She smiled.

“Also, you look very nice today,” he added. “I mean, you always look nice, but especially today.”

“Thank you so much!” Isabel said. “Not as good as you do, today and every day.”

Cordan wasn’t sure what to make of that, and laughed, charmed and embarrassed at the same time.

They drove in a peaceful silence back to Isabel’s house. When he pulled into the driveway and stopped the car, Isabel turned to him. “Thank you for bringing me with you today. I have never had a happier morning!” She unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of the car. Cordan seemed mesmerized by something, for he forgot to open her door for her. He sat there thinking as he watched her walk back inside. When she was almost at the door, he called to her through the window.

“Hey Isabel!”

She turned back to him.

“When are you going to play the piano next?”

“Here, tomorrow night,” she called back. “8:00. We’re having a murder mystery dinner at 6.” She had forgotten it until that moment. It’s happening just like in my dream, she thought to herself.

“Can I come?” Cordan asked.

“Of course!” Isabel said, her heart pounding. “We have some extra roles.”

“Just don’t make me the murderer,” Cordan said.

Isabel scrunched up her nose. “No promises!” she called back. “See you then!”

“What a view!” Isabel said.

“It is beautiful,” Cordan said. “Hey, can I talk to you?”

Something in the way he said it made her look at him quickly. “Of course.” She started twisting her fingers around in the other hand.

“Whatever happened to your friend John?” John was her former boyfriend. “Do you still talk to him?” Cordan asked.

“No!” Isabel laughed. “I haven’t talked to John in months, and he moved to St. Louis back in October.”

“Oh okay. Does he have a replacement now?”

Isabel fixed him with a steady gaze. “No. He was the replacement, but hardly adequate.”

“The replacement for who?”

Isabel answered slowly, face turned down but her eyes looking up at him. “If you truly want to know—you.”

The silence hung heavy in the air between them. Isabel broke eye contact and turned away from him.

“Isabel.” The sound of her name on his tongue was like silver falling. He had never used that tone before. She turned to face him, wondering.

They were only a few inches apart now. She could hear and feel his breathing. He was looking at her as someone would look at a newborn puppy or a fragile masterpiece that might shatter into pieces if you moved.

“Isabel…” he reached out and took her hand. His hand was warm and soft, and the mere touch was strangely distracting.

“I said some things to you last summer that I regret,” he said, studying her hand as if he were afraid to look into her face. “I believed them when I said them, but—” at this point he lifted his gaze to hers—“they are not true now.”

Her eyes flew open. She was lying in bed, covered with blankets and her thick purple bedspread. She bolted up to a sitting position, breathing hard. It had just been a dream! All of it! The party, her song, the secret passageway, her time alone with Cordan…

She sunk down against her pillow, dejected. It had seemed so real! And Cordan… Cordan had been talking to her as if maybe he felt something… but none of it was real.

Two tears ran down her face, but she brushed them aside and sat up again. She thought back to how they had first met.

Dominic had brought over a friend from school. That was six years ago, when she was 13. She had walked into the family room one afternoon and been startled to find a strange boy there with her brother. A strange, shockingly cute boy. She remembered the way she had shyly slunk back against the TV cupboard, self-consciously pushing hair behind her ear while she tried not to stare at him.

He came over often to hang out with Dominic and Edward, and sometimes he would speak to her—just a word or a sentence. And try as she might, she could never think of more than a word or two to say to him. It was torture. Every day she hoped he would come over, and when he did, she would try to be near him. She would steal glances at him when she thought no one was looking, but just to have a simple conversation with him seemed impossible.

He rarely seemed to notice her. On the few occasions when he did, when he would ask her how she was or hold the door for her or anything at all, she would think about it all day long afterward.

The years went by, and things did not change much until one afternoon, Isabel was lying on her back on the wide sunny window seat reading Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. She sat up and began reading it aloud in different voices for the different speakers.

Suddenly Cordan walked up to her, speaking Lysander’s lines in an appropriately exaggerated voice.

She looked up at him, smiling.

“You’re not a bad actress, Isabel!” he said.

“Thank you. You’re not a bad actor!”

“I love Shakespeare,” Cordan said, sitting down next to her and picking up her book which she had set down on the cushion. Isabel’s heart began to race. “Which of his works are here?” Cordan thumbed through the table of contents. “Quite a few. Which is your favorite?”

“Romeo and Juliet,” Isabel answered at once. She could not believe he was sitting next to her having a conversation with her. She wondered if he could hear her heart pounding.

“That’s a good one, but it’s too tragic for me,” Cordan said. “I prefer a happy ending.”

“Yes, but even though they died tragically, their love for each other stopped all the deaths and killings of their families,” Isabel said. “I think it’s sad but beautiful.”

Cordan nodded. “I think you might enjoy the book club I just joined. We sit around reading and talking about Shakespeare and lots of old classics. If you want to come and check it out, they would love to have you.”

“Really?” Isabel asked in a voice pitched too high. Why, oh why, couldn’t she just speak like a normal 18 year old around him?

“Sure,” Cordan said. “They meet at the corner café on Saturday mornings.”

“I will come!” Isabel said.

“I will look for you!” He smiled. “We start at 10:00.”

Isabel got up at 8 am Saturday morning. She had to shower and wash and fix her hair. She hurried to do her makeup and grab a bite to eat because she could not afford the expensive menu at that particular café, and she wasn’t herself if she didn’t have breakfast. She cut her meal short, brushed her teeth for thirty seconds, and ran for the car.

Slamming her car door shut, she looked at the dashboard and groaned. How had she forgotten to get gas? Her gas gage was on empty. She didn’t think she could even get to the café without filling up first. She sped out of the driveway, angrily berating herself for forgetting.

Not only did she have to get gas, but the traffic was unusually heavy for a Saturday morning. By the time she finally walked into the corner café and spotted Cordan and a group of others in an alcove at the back of the shop, every seat was taken and they were clearly well into their discussion. When she walked up, the leader stopped talking and looked at her.

“Hi,” she said, embarrassed. “I’m Isabel.”

“Are you here for the book club?” asked the speaker, a blond-haired thirty-something man with glasses.

“Yes.”

“Okay, let’s see…looks like all our seats are taken, but let’s see what we can do. Mary and Isaac, do you think you can make some room for her on your couch?”

The young couple spoken to reluctantly squeezed over to one side of their loveseat and Isabel sat down, blushing slightly. She didn’t dare make eye contact with Cordan. Why couldn’t she have gotten there early?? The café was so close to her house! It was really embarrassing, and she wanted so badly to make a good impression.

The book discussion was not bad, but Isabel’s experience was tarnished by her own feelings of embarrassment. It was not even eleven o’clock when Cordan began to stand up.

“You going, Cordan?” asked the leader.

“Yes, I have somewhere to be by 11:30, so I have to step out early today,” he said, standing up and hoisting a tan backpack onto his shoulders.

Isabel’s heart sank. She did not know he was leaving early. Not only did she embarrass herself, but she would not get to talk to him at all.

“All right, thanks for your input,” said the first man, Dane. “Drive safe.”

“Thanks. Goodbye,” Cordan said, looking around at all ten of them. His gaze lingered for half a second longer on Isabel.

“Goodbye,” she said. He walked to the door and the bell on the door chimed as it shut behind him.

Isabel did not really hear anything else that was said in the meeting, and she left as soon as she could at the end.

A week later she was walking down the sidewalk across from the Amtrak station when she looked up to see Cordan standing by the train tracks, a large suitcase at his side. Isabel looked both ways and ran across the street.

“Cordan, is that you?” she exclaimed, jogging up to him.

“Oh hi, Isabel,” he said, looking up from his phone.

“Hi! Are you taking a trip?”

“Yes, I’m going to Arizona.”

“Arizona! What are you doing there?”

“I signed up with a band out there. It has all happened really fast. I just auditioned online earlier this week, and they let me know a few days ago. They want me there by Saturday.”

“You’re moving and you didn’t tell us?” Isabel said, unable to keep the hurt out of her voice.

“I’m sorry!” Cordan said. “I did tell Dominic, and I texted you too this morning. I wish I didn’t have to go so soon, but like I said, it all happened so fast.”

Isabel just stood there shaking her head, devastated. She had not seen any text. A whistle blew loudly, and a train rushed down the tracks toward them.

He put his arms around her and hugged her. “I’ll text you,” he promised.

He had never hugged her before, or even touched her. She clung to him, not willing to let him go. Gently he extricated himself from her embrace and boarded the standing train. He stopped at the window and waved to her as the train pulled out of the station.

Isabel stood there unmoving, looking after the train long after it had gone.

Gone. Just like that. Years of love and now he was totally gone in an instant. She turned away from the tracks and walked blindly through the town, trying not to cry and failing miserably. It was so sudden! Completely without warning. Why hadn’t he had the decency to tell them??

She pulled her phone from her pocket and blinked. There was a text message from him from an hour ago.

She opened it.

“Hi isabel, it’s cordan. i just wanted to let you know ill be moving to arizona for a new work gig I got with this one band. thanks for coming to book club the other day. you should keep going. it would be fun. See you soon.”

So he had texted her after all.

“Fun?” she said aloud. “It won’t be fun without you!”

“How soon is soon?” she texted back.

“Probably a few months,” the answer came right back.

At least he was responding. They had never really texted back and forth before.

Over the next few months, the two of them kept texting. Cordan sent Isabel pictures and clips from his concerts. She kept him updated on her life at home. She was almost happy, for even though he was gone, they were talking more than they ever had before. She got to know another side of him—his inner world—besides the energy, kindness, and enthusiasm she had always loved about him.

On Christmas afternoon, there was a knock at the back door. Isabel went to answer it. When she opened the door and saw Cordan’s handsome face and gorgeous smile, her heart leaped in her chest and she attacked him with a bear hug.

“Merry Christmas Isabel!” he wrapped his arms around her, laughing.

“I can’t believe you’re really here!” she exclaimed, spinning him in a circle. She was so excited she was literally beaming with happiness.

He chuckled. “I am here all right, and I have something for you.” He dug into the large paper sack he was holding and pulled out a thin rectangularly-shaped gift which he handed to Isabel.

Isabel was so surprised she could not move, except to hold and stare at the wrapped present.

“Do you want to open it?” Cordan asked.

Mutely she nodded, and awkwardly tore open the wrapping paper, revealing a book of piano music. Her eyes went wide. “This is my favorite band!” she exclaimed.

Cordan nodded. “I know. That’s why I bought it.”

Isabel hugged him. “Thank you so much, Cordan! I feel terrible, though. I didn’t get you a present!”

“That’s okay. You didn’t know I was coming home. But you’ll have to play some of those songs for me.”

Isabel’s face shone. “I’ll play you the whole book if you’ll listen!”

At this point, Dominic appeared and rushed at Cordan, yelling greetings and slapping him on the back.

It was the happiest Christmas Day Isabel could remember, but the very next day Cordan had to fly back to Arizona.

“When will you be back?” Isabel asked him after he said goodbye that night.

“I don’t really know,” he admitted. “It’s expensive to fly out, so it will probably be a long time.”

“I wish—” Isabel began but stopped herself.

“What do you wish?” Cordan asked, his eyes lighting up.

“Nevermind,” Isabel said, shaking her head. She had been going to say, “I wish I could go with you,” but then realized how that would sound.

Now, sitting in her bed reminiscing, Isabel wished she had just said it. Let him think what he would, how she wished she had let him know how she felt. Not that he would have taken her with him, but if only he had known what he meant to her before he signed a three-year contract with the Arizona band and bought the house out there. Now they saw him once a year, if that. But there was not a single day that she did not miss him.

Part 3 will be posted within a week.

The Amberlin family and their friends had gone all out in costume for their murder mystery dinner. The murderer discovered, they were now enjoying entertainment to fit the time period theme of the party.

The guests listened with rapt admiration to the music. Until the last line of the song, when the hem of Isabel’s gown caught on something beneath the piano just as she came to the part requiring the pedal. The song faltered as she struggled with her dress. Peering beneath the piano, she wrenched her gown out of a crack in the floor. Blushing, she resumed playing as quickly as possible. When she finished, her forgiving audience erupted with applause.

The guests went home soon after, leaving only Isabel, her younger sister Marilee, her brothers Dominic and Edward, their parents and grandparents, and Dominic’s friend Cordan. Everyone said goodnight and began to leave for their own rooms, but Isabel and Cordan remained behind.

Isabel went back over to the piano and knelt down on the floor. Her brown hair, currently in long old-fashioned curls, rolled off her shoulder. She peered at the crack that had caught her gown earlier and ran her hand over it.

“I don’t understand how my gown got caught in this tiny crack,” she said. “It ruined my song.”

“It didn’t ruin it!” Cordan said, running a hand through his thick straight black hair. “It was just a minor hiccup.”

“I was very embarrassed. See this crack is so skinny I can’t even fit my fingernail into it.” She pressed down and a portion of the floor gave way.

“What!” she exclaimed.

Cordan knelt down next to her, putting his handsome face close to the floor.

“Look at this,” Isabel said. She pushed down again and a narrow strip of the floor reaching under the piano gave way beneath the pressure.

“I think this is a wider crack,” Cordan said.

“Let’s move the piano and see how big it is,” Isabel said.

“All right.” They both got up and together heaved the piano backwards.

Getting back down on the floor, Isabel pushed the floor once more. This time a square space about two feet long on each side moved down, and when she released the pressure, it bounced up and the whole square of floor stood upright.

“It’s a trap door!” Cordan exclaimed.

Isabel put her face down and looked inside. “It looks like a whole room down here,” she said in a muffled voice. “If only we had a flashlight.”

Without a word, Cordan produced a small, deep blue flashlight from his pocket and handed it to Isabel.

“Well, look at you,” Isabel said. “Always prepared.”

She turned on the flashlight and pointed it down into the hole.

“Wow.” The hole dropped down a good five feet and was just as wide. Its length appeared to be 12 feet or longer.

“What is this place? If I go down there, will you help me back up?” she asked her friend.

“Of course.”

Isabel held onto the corner edges of the floor and let herself down. Cordan followed.

Isabel stopped and looked at him. “I thought you were going to help me back out!”

“I am,” the dark haired young man repeated. “I will climb back out and help you up.”

“Okay,” Isabel said. “I guess you’ll be able to climb out on your own. I’m too short.”

“No worries, my friend. I’ve got you!” Cordan said. He shone the flashlight around and let the light linger on a rough, old-fashioned wood door at the far end.

“It’s a passageway,” he said.

“No one told my family about this when we bought the house last year!” Isabel said. “I wonder if they even knew.”

Together they crossed the short hallway, and Cordan pulled the door open.

“What on earth?”

There before them was the very living room they had just left--this time in front of them instead of above them.

“This makes no sense,” Isabel said.

They stepped into the room. Yes, it was definitely her family’s own living room, exactly as they had left it moments before. “Let’s go back and see if we can--” Isabel turned back and stopped short, for the door was gone.

“Am I losing my mind?” she cried to Cordan. “Did you see that?”

“I did!” He said, scratching his head. “This is impossible!”

“Look for the crack by the piano!” Isabel said.

They half-ran to the instrument and began groping and pushing on the floor where they had just found the trap door, but there was nothing to be found—not even the thinnest crack.

At last Isabel sat down on the piano bench in exasperation. “Well, that was the most disappointing secret passageway ever,” she lamented.

“Maybe we are more tired than we realized,” Cordan laughed, but his face was etched with confusion.

“It makes no sense! But I’m going to bed. Maybe that will help!” Isabel stood up.

“May I see you tomorrow?” Cordan asked, looking her in the eyes.

Isabel eyes widened. “Dominic won’t be here tomorrow.”

“I don’t want to see Dominic; I want to see you.”

“Oh!” Isabel could not conceal her surprise. “Yes, I’ll be home all day.”

“I’ll be back early. Come walk me outside.” He took her hand and began to walk outside with her. The touch of his hand on hers was a magnetic shock. She looked up at him and stared.

For years she had imagined something like this happening, but in all that time her brother’s best friend had never once held her hand.

They took the short cut out through the living room’s French doors. The scent of lilacs floated on a gentle breeze.

“Wow.” Isabel put her hand in front of Cordan’s chest to stop him. “I never come back here at night.” They were very secluded from any other lights, and the sky above them was covered with thousands of brightly glittering stars. “What a view.”

“It is beautiful,” he said. “Hey, can I talk to you?”

Part 2 will be posted within one week.

“What do you think you’re doing, Viola?” said the brown-skinned young man who stood there, an ugly sneer on his face.

“I’m spending time with my husband,” Viola replied. “What are you doing here, Enrique? I thought you were living on the mainland.”

“I’m here for an extended visit. Your husband?” He laughed as if he didn’t believe it. Joseph extended her hand with his own, showing their wedding rings to the newcomer, who looked at the rings in surprise.

“Who are you?” Joseph demanded.

“Viola’s boyfriend, Enrique,” the man replied, still sneering.

“I think you’re looking for a fight!” Joseph said. “Viola doesn’t have a boyfriend.”

“I can’t believe you never told your dear hubby here about your past relationships, love,” Enrique said.

“I am not your ‘love!’” Viola exclaimed, “And I never was. The one month that I was seeing you long ago is a bad memory I prefer not to remember and did not consider necessary to speak of.”

“Ouch,” Enrique said. “I didn’t think I was so offensive to you. We were seeing each other much more recently than that.”

Viola opened her mouth to answer, but Joseph spoke first. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” he said to Enrique. “And stay away from my wife.”

Enrique nodded very curtly and turned to go. “Seems like a keeper,” he said sarcastically, to Viola. He walked back down the boardwalk toward town.

Viola shuddered. “What he calls ‘seeing each other recently’ was him showing up at every public place I came and trying to sit next to me and talk and flirt with me. At first, I put up with him out of politeness, but I finally asked him to stop. He moved away shortly after that. I can’t believe he would disrespect you like this. He’s never been so horrifying.”

“I’m guessing he isn’t too open-minded towards my class,” Joseph said.

Viola shook her head. “No, he isn’t. And he’s dangerous, Joseph.”

“What do you mean?”

“Not afraid to use violence to get what he wants. And he usually finds a way to get away with it. He has a lot of influential friends.”

Joseph scoffed. “I’m not afraid of him.”

But Viola looked up at him with worried eyes. “Don’t underestimate him, Joseph, just because he’s a jerk.”

“What do you think he would do?” Joseph said, kneeling back down on their blanket and picking a blade of grass that had poked up through the sand.

“He could do anything,” Viola said, kneeling down beside him.

“Kidnap you?” Joseph asked.

Viola said nothing. To Joseph, that said it all.

“Lock the door whenever you’re alone,” he said. “You know how to shoot a gun. Keep one with you all the time.” He sighed. “I really hate this. You shouldn’t have to be afraid in your own house. In our house.” He took her in his arms. “I’ll be at home as often as I can. And you know I love it when you come out to the shop while I’m working. Albert is great help, but he can’t compare with you for company.”

Viola smiled. “Then I will be there all the more. And the good thing is, Enrique doesn’t know where we live.”

Joseph nodded, although he silently wondered how long that would be true.

Viola distracted herself from worrying about Enrique by throwing herself whole-heartedly into decorating the house. Joseph had told her on their honeymoon that he wanted her to put her touch to his house and truly make it her own. Viola had only ever dreamed of having the resources to decorate a mansion like his, so she set to work with passion. She added more color with vibrant pillows, throws, rugs, and paintings. She filled the house with the fragrance and blooms of lilacs, roses, and lavender, even festooning climbing roses around the banisters. Joseph liked everything she did, with very few exceptions, but whenever he didn’t like something, he had the final say.

Life went on in undisturbed happiness for some time, but one evening Joseph was returning from a jewel auction when he noticed a shadow following him down the boardwalk. Whenever he turned to see who was there, there was no one. Joseph tightened his belt and hurried on, staying alert, and saw no more. He decided not to go straight home, but took a very long, roundabout path. When at last he let himself through the front door, Viola was there waiting for him.

She ran to wrap her arms around him. “Baby! You’re here at last! Where have you been?”

He held her, but he didn’t immediately answer. Finally he spoke. “I think someone followed me,” he said. “I have to speak to Donatello.” He hurried from the house to the stable, and Viola followed him.

The thin, dark-skinned stable hand was feeding the mares. “Donatello, cut the other chores short tonight. I have a new task for you,” Joseph told him. “I want you to watch the gate and outskirts of my land for any suspicious figures lurking around, especially if you see a swarthy young man with a sneering expression. Or if you see anyone, but especially him. Do not let him enter under any condition, and alert me or Viola once he is gone, or if you see someone.”

“As you wish sir,” the young man agreed, bowing slightly and heading to the gate. Joseph looked around with narrowed eyes and returned to the house, his arm clasped tightly around Viola’s shoulder.

The next morning he asked Donatello for a report.

“I didn’t see anyone except the neighbors, sir.”

“Good. Now go get some sleep!” Joseph said.

Nothing more happened until a week later Joseph had to meet with some of his business associates in town. Viola stayed home. Her maid Ruth had just washed a basketful of towels, so Viola took them outside and was clipping them on the line when she sensed someone standing behind her. She turned slowly and saw Enrique standing three feet away from her. She froze in shock.

“Hello Viola,” he said smoothly. He did not smile.

“Please go,” she said. “I do not want you here.”

“No, well, I don’t want you here either.”

“This is my home!” Viola exclaimed.

“What were you thinking, marrying him?” Enrique said. “So now you’re ruling class?”

“No.”

“Your marriage is not legitimate. The real authorities here don’t accept it.”

“That is not true!” Viola exclaimed. “Our marriage license was signed by representatives of both classes.”

“Yes, but which Native governing officials will accept the marriage of a native to ruling class?”

“All of them, I would hope. Our marriage is legal.”

Enrique shook his head. “They don’t. I have spoken with quite a few who said they will certify that your marriage was invalid.”

“How DARE you!” Viola exclaimed. “What business is that of yours, I should like to know!”

“I have the right to make sure my friend isn’t living in an invalid marriage.”

Viola nodded angrily. “Sure, it would be, if it was the morality or legality that you really cared about. But that’s not what you care about.”

Enrique’s tan face twisted in anger. “I’m about to lose my patience with you, Viola!” He grabbed her wrists and pulled her next to him. “You are coming with me, whether you like it or not.”

She kicked herself free, but he was immediately on her again. She opened her mouth to scream but he quickly gagged her. Where was the gun Joseph had told her to keep on her? She always kept it in her pocket, but this dress had none.

“I will give you a choice, Viola,” Enrique said in a low, biting voice. “You can go with me willingly, or I will tie you up. Your choice.”

He hoisted her to her feet and pushed her in front of him, looking around.

Viola walked ahead a few steps, and then took off running as fast as she could. She made it halfway to the house before Enrique caught her and pinned her to the ground.

Where is Ruth? Or Donatello? Viola couldn’t believe no one had seen them.

Then Enrique fought her, viciously tying her hands and feet. He hoisted her onto his shoulder and ran for the woods. He ran for over an hour, stopping from time to time to listen. Viola’s skin was bleeding from the tightness of the cords and her head was screaming from the pounding jolts. She dared not imagine what Enrique would do to her once they reached wherever they were going. But reach it they did—an abandoned cabin in the forest. He slammed her down onto the ground.

“It will take some time for your precious love to find you here,” Enrique said. “And by that time, he will no longer have a wife.”

He held something to Viola’s neck.

Was he really going to kill her?

“Sign it,” he said, forcing the pen into her hand. He sawed the cords from her wrists. He smacked a document down on the table in front of her.

Shaking, Viola read the words “Absolution of Marriage” in bold, flowing script at the top of the paper.

She tried to speak. Enrique ungagged her. “How did you get onto my lawn without anyone seeing you?” she asked.

“I’ve been watching your house for a week. I saw the man you call your husband leave this morning, and before his servant took up his usual post watching, I climbed the wall and waited in the bushes until you appeared.”

Viola shivered. “I never knew you were so sick.”

“Sign it!” Enrique demanded angrily, slapping the paper.

Viola gripped the pen, wondering how much damage it could do as a weapon.

“You do realize, Viola, that you are completely in my power here?” Enrique said, standing up from where he been crouching in front of her. “I can choose to cause you a great deal of pain if you do not do what I say.”

“I know that very well,” Viola said.

“Then why don’t you do it?!” Enrique hissed, putting his face into hers.

She lurched backwards away from him but made no answer. Because I love my husband and my God is what she thought, but she knew it might prompt him to start scheming up ways to hurt Joseph.

“You can’t escape me, Viola,” Enrique said with a cruel laugh. “Oh no! You are going to sign that paper or you will die!”

He gripped the knife and waved it in front of Viola’s eyes. She flinched. Somehow she kept thinking Enrique would not go all the way. She was wrong. A sob caught in her throat. Not because of the pain. Not because she was going to lose her life. Because in that act, he was going to devastate Joseph’s world. She would be free once she died, but he would go on in anguish. She hesitated for a moment. Would it be better to do as this evil man said and save her love from that pain?

But then again, if she signed it and legally gave up her marriage, would that hurt him any less? No, she realized, that would hurt him even worse. And more than that, it would be wrong.

“Sign it!” Enrique yelled, louder this time.

Viola threw the pen to the floor. Enraged, Enrique thrust the knife at her—and it flew out of his hand against the wall as Joseph tackled him to the ground. He knocked him senseless and rushed to cut the bonds on Viola’s feet.

Then Albert and Donatello were there.

“Bind him securely and take him to the authorities!” Joseph ordered them. He rubbed circulation back into Viola’s feet. He lifted her to a standing position and they clung to each other. Viola was crying.

“Come with me,” Joseph said, lifting her in his arms and running from the cabin.

“How did you find me?” Viola asked, gently bouncing as his feet touched the ground.

“Ruth saw Enrique talking to you in the yard and told Donatello, who tracked you to the cabin. I arrived home just after he took you. Once Donatello knew where you were, he reported back to me and Albert and the three of us came together to the cabin. He had trouble finding it again until we heard Enrique yelling at you.”

“I guess it’s a good thing I made him mad.”

Joseph pursed his lips and squeezed her hand soberly, then held her to his chest. “If I had arrived a second later…” He choked on a sob. “I will praise God forever that I didn’t lose you today!”

“Baby…” Viola pressed her lips to his. “Thank you for saving me!”

Joseph said nothing, but his eyes said it all.

A few minutes later they heard a commotion back at the cabin and looked back to see it swarming with officers.

“Ruth has been busy,” Joseph smiled.

Through the trees, they saw Enrique being led away in handcuffs. Albert and Donatello motioned to them to come back, so with his arm tightly wound around Viola’s, Joseph led her back to the scene.

“These men want to ask you some questions,” Donatello said.

Viola told them in detail everything that had happened to her at Enrique’s hands and how she escaped. Then Joseph told them his part.

“Thank you for your information,” said the man taking notes. “We are very sorry for the terrifying things that happened to you today. Rest assured your captor is going to prison and will undergo trial where you will be asked to testify.”

Joseph and Viola walked home through the forest. She was glad that he kept his arm wrapped around her in a comforting, protective stance. The evening sun filtered warm and mellow through the trees, dappling the ground with sunshine.

“I will never forget that scene as long as I live,” Viola said.

“I know; it’s horrible,” Joseph said.

“No, it’s not,” Viola said. “I mean the scene when you burst into the cabin and flattened Enrique! Your timing and execution were perfect!”

“Thank God I wasn’t a second later!” Joseph shivered, drawing Viola closer.

“That was God for sure,” Viola agreed soberly.

“What did that man do to you?” Joseph asked, not even wanting to say his name.

“He tried to make me absolve our marriage,” Viola said.

“What?!”

“He had gotten some documents from some government officials he’s friends with to certify that our marriage is invalid. He was trying to force me to sign it.”

Joseph’s eyes grew big with rage. “I’m glad I hit him as hard as I did! Did he torture you?”

“No, he didn’t waste time with that. It was sign, or death. I didn’t sign, so he came at me with a knife. That’s when you appeared.”

Joseph stopped walking and stood across from Viola. He looked down and then up into her eyes. “You would have died to preserve our marriage?”

She nodded. “That’s what I promised you when I married you. ‘Till death do us part.’”

He pulled her fiercely to his chest in a bear hug, but not before Viola saw the tears splashing on his cheeks.

“You are priceless,” he cried. “Priceless.”

Viola whispered into his hair. “Now I don’t just know, I’ve experienced the truth of that beautiful ancient verse, ‘Love is as strong as death, jealousy is fierce as the grave.’”

“I wonder about the second part of the verse, though,” Joseph said. I don’t like the jealousy part as much. That reminds me of Enrique.”

“No,” Viola shook her head. “That’s talking about you. I’m really glad you are jealous for me because if you weren’t, I wouldn’t be alive right now.”

Joseph reflected and then nodded. “You’re right. I will always be jealous for you!”

“And so you should be,” she said, sliding her hand into his and gazing up at him. “Because I’m yours and no one else’s.”

He bent down, put his hands on either side of her face and slowly and passionately kissed her.

Viola slid from her pony and stared at the ruins. Some half-destroyed boards and cookware were all that remained from the fire. People were screaming and crying. A few wet buckets lay about.

“The owners?” Viola was afraid to ask the question. “Did they survive?”

“Yes,” said one wrinkled woman with straggly blond hair. “Both badly burnt, but they survived. A stranger rescued the boy. We’re hoping he’s going to make it.” She pointed towards one corner of the crowd, where three people were lying on the ground, as physicians bandaged them up.

Viola looked over and felt like she was going to be sick.

“No!” She rushed over and dropped to her knees beside the hero. Immediately she covered her face with her hands and began to cry. The young man, his face and arms covered with severe burns, was Joseph.

Suddenly someone had their arms around her and was drawing her to her feet. She caught a familiar glimpse of a pink dress and pearl bracelet and the well-known scent of lavender. It was her mother. She held her and let her cry. It didn’t even occur to Viola to wonder how her mother got there.

“It’s Jo-Joseph!” Viola stammered. “He saved their lives and now he may die!”

“What can we do?” said her father’s voice. “Surely he has talented physicians we can call on.”

“No,” Viola said, lifting her face to see if it was really her father. “He didn’t have his own physician. He never needed one before.”

She pulled away from her mother’s grasp and went to Joseph. Kneeling on the ground beside him, she spoke to the physician attending him.

“That man is a great hero,” said a stranger from the crowd. “That’s Joseph Ericson.”

“Joseph Ericson?” said another man, coming forward to look. “That man gave me my land.”

“Who are you?” asked Edward, who had followed Viola, along with Marianne.

“Name’s Albert Grayson. That there is my neighbor,” the man said, pointing at Joseph. “Gave me acres of the richest soil on the island next to the Adinjey so I could fish. Just gave it to me free of charge! I don’t know any other man like that one anywhere.”

“I know him,” said a young man a few feet away. “He trained my brother and I as blacksmiths.”

“How much did he charge you for an entrance fee?” Edward asked the boy.

“Nothing,” came the answer.

Edward walked slowly over to the body lying prostrate on the ground. He looked down at Joseph’s bandaged face and swallowed. His throat burned. He knelt down on the ground and put his head in his hands. He shook his head continuously until someone spoke to him.

“Excuse me, sir, can you help us carry this patient?”

Edward stood up quickly and nodded.

They carefully lifted Joseph onto a mattress and then he and three other men carried him to the next house.

“The neighbor Liddy is going to house everyone for tonight until they are more stable and we can safely transport them further,” one of the physicians said.

Viola and Marianne followed them. While the physicians and nurses buzzed around the hurt, Viola stood there staring at them in a daze, in a grief too great for tears. Suddenly her father put his arms around her and drew her close. She froze in his arms.

“Viola, Joseph is—Joseph,” her father stammered.

“Joseph is what?” Viola asked, pulling back enough to look at his face.

“He’s what you always said he was. I was too proud and angry to see. He’s a great man—in basically every way.”

Edward began to weep.

“Father?” Viola said, watching him in shock.

“He’s a good man! And he would have been your husband if I hadn’t been a fool! Idiotic and evil.”

“Are you saying—“ Viola choked on the words, “that you would let him marry me?” The moment she asked it, she wished she hadn’t, for a positive answer would make her pain even worse.

“I would give you my full and complete blessing,” her father said.

Viola and her mother stared at Edward. Viola could not speak. Tears ran down her face as she silently sobbed.

Her father squeezed her hand sadly and led her mother from the room.

Viola stayed beside Joseph where he lay unconscious. She never left his side all night, changing his bandages frequently as the doctor showed her how. Late in the night, she had fallen asleep sitting next to him on the narrow cot, her head falling onto his pillow, when he whispered her name.

“Viola.”

She started awake. “Joseph!”

His eyes said there was much he wanted to say, but the only thing he got out was, “I love you.”

“I love you!”

Joseph groaned in pain.

“There, don’t move,” Viola said, distressed, quickly putting more salve on his burns.

“It’s not—the burns,” Joseph got out.

Viola stopped. “Then what is it?”

“Your father—said no.”

Viola was silent. On death’s doorstep, his main concern was still the two of them, not his own life-threatening situation.

Viola knelt beside him so that her face was next to his.

“No, Joseph. Not now. Joseph, my father says yes!”

The confusion in his eyes showed Joseph did not understand.

“He has changed his mind completely,” Viola went on. “He can finally see you as you really are. He met your neighbor, the native you gave half your land to—he learned the truth, saw you saved this boy’s life. On top of everything else. Joseph, we have his full and complete blessing!”

“Is that true?” Joseph said, unable to move except to speak with difficulty. Then he asked, “Can you truly love me like this?”

“With a few scars?” Viola said through tears. “They will remind me every day of your bravery and your love.”

He could barely move his mouth, and the pain and injury was too great for him to speak, but Viola could tell he was smiling. When he closed his eyes again, she lay her head back down on his pillow and fell fast asleep.

Several months later, Joseph was healed enough to return to normal life. His scars were very noticeable on his face and arms, but they had faded more than expected.

“I hate that you have to see me this way forever,” he told Viola as they walked through the field of daisies in front of his house.

“It doesn’t frighten me, love,” Viola said. “You look every inch as handsome as you ever did.”

“That’s not true,” Joseph laughed bitterly.

She grabbed his face tenderly and turned it toward her. “I mean it, Joseph,” she said. “Your features haven’t changed. The only thing that’s changed is that every time I see you, I remember how you nearly gave your life to save Tristan from the fire. That is beautiful.”

Joseph took her hand and gazed into her face. “You are beautiful, through and through.”

“Come with me,” he went on. “To the beach.”

“Right now?” Viola asked. It was almost sunset.

“Yes.”

“Okay!”

They walked for several miles in silence through the tall island grasses until they reached the sand.

“Race you to the dunes,” Joseph said.

“Are you up for that?” Viola asked.

He nodded, bent his legs, and took off. Viola was after him like a bullet. She caught up to him, but at the last second he bolted past her up the nearest dune.

“Joseph nearly dies, and I still can’t catch him,” Viola laughed, joining him at the top. “Really, though, love, don’t overdo it, please.”

“I won’t.” He took her hand and slid down the dune. She ran into him on the way down and rolled over him.

“Do you know something, Viola?” Joseph said, reaching out his hand to touch her midnight black hair. “This is about how you looked when I first saw you. Sand on your skin, sand in your hair.”

Their lips were very close, and he longed to kiss her. But he had something to do first. He rose onto one knee.

“Viola Alexander, will you marry me?” he asked.

She looked at him, once more tanned by the sun, his black curls hanging down over his forehead and one rascal lock over his right ear. The sun was setting into the ocean behind him, the last strokes of red and orange spreading across the water and the sky. He awaited her answer with just enough uncertainty in his expression to give her the feeling she was about to decree him a judgment of life or death.

“Joseph Ericson,” she whispered. “With all my heart—yes!”

He gathered her in his arms and raised her to her feet. And then with a joy that shone through him like the brightest sun through a white shade, he kissed her. Lifting her in his arms, he spun her around and around in circles, laughing until at last they both collapsed back on the sand, laughing as if they had lost their heads completely.

A few weeks later, Viola’s mother and father, aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, Joseph’s friend Aaron and his wife Eralyn and his other close friends gathered on benches arranged on Joseph’s huge green lawn. Everyone was seated, and then the flutes began, played by three blondes at the back of the short stage. The audience stood as Viola came down the aisle on her father’s arm. She was a dream in her filmy white wedding dress and veil. Standing at the front in an expensive black suit and matching black shoes that shone enough to see his reflection, Joseph watched her walk towards him. He remembered the first time she had come to him down the same path only a few feet from where they were all gathered now—that time she had been running with fear. This time she walked unhurried, stepping like a queen in time to the music. He choked up. She had never been more beautiful in her life, her waist-length hair falling in black waves down her back, a few thick strands falling out of place in front of her shoulders. The way she looked at him from beneath her veil, smiling shyly but with eyes shining with happiness, made it hard for him to breathe.

As they held each other’s hands and exchanged their vows, his love for her and the God who had brought them together was the only thing that occupied his mind—unless it was also his amazement that for the first time in his life, a group of natives and “ruling class” citizens were assembled together in peace for one common, joyful purpose.

After their honeymoon to nearby Greece, Joseph and Viola returned home to reopen his blacksmith shop. Joseph named the shop “Two Worlds Unite” and hired a new assistant to replace Jorge. Whenever customers asked Joseph the meaning of the name, he told them the story of him and Viola and how their two divided worlds came together in them.

“Let’s climb the sand dunes,” he said, taking her hand and launching into a sprint.

“Okay!” Viola laughed, running alongside him up the nearest mountain of sand. “Now let me catch my breath!” she exclaimed, leaning over with her hands on her knees. Looking down to the shoreline, she grabbed Joseph’s hand again. “Jos, what is that?” she exclaimed.

Anchored in the waves just offshore floated a gorgeous little sailboat, its white sails blindingly bright.

“You told me you loved sailing, didn’t you?” he asked, beaming. She turned towards him, her face shining with delight. “I’m going to take you sailing, angel,” he said.

Viola shrieked with delight and pummeled down the sand dune, racing into the water. Joseph quickly caught up to her, laughing alongside her. They jumped into the boat and Joseph hoisted up the anchor.

“What a beauty she is!” Viola said. “Not a single scratch or mark on her.”

Joseph adjusted the sails to catch the wind, and they sailed away. Viola stood and let the wild wind blow through her, staring up and around at the huge billowing sails and the blue water sparkling in the sun. Viola’s dress and hair streamed behind her. She felt she was one with the wind and might fly away, a spirit of the wind. She closed her eyes and just smiled, absorbing the feel of the sun on her skin, the wind in her hair. She opened her eyes and looked at Joseph. He was looking at her with an expression she had never seen before—a mix of curiosity and admiration.

“Hey beautiful,” he said, slipping his arm around her. “Is this seat taken?”

“I’m not sitting!” Viola laughed, playfully slapping him.

He gazed long and deep into her eyes. Her heart skipped a beat. There was no doubt in her mind what that look meant.

They sailed for hours all around the bay, sitting next to one another on the floorboards. They passed sandy beaches, wild grasslands, and several small fishing villages along the coast, but Viola’s favorite part was when Joseph turned and sailed away from the land, heading across the bay. The bright ocean dazzled her eyes.

“How I’ve always dreamed of doing this!” she breathed. “Is there any greater feeling of freedom?” She rose to her feet and the boat tilted.

“Careful there!” Joseph said, standing up beside her to balance the boat, but now the boat tilted too far in his direction and Viola lost her balance, falling into arms.

Their eyes went wide.

“Woah! Careful, I’ve got you!” he said.

Viola scrambled to regain her balance, but she had to admit to herself that finding herself there in his warm, strong arms had not been at all unpleasant. Quickly Joseph stabilized the boat and they sat down again. “Sorry!” he said, and they burst out laughing.

As they sailed on, they talked about everything from swimming and fishing to dolphins to childhood. Later they fell into a peaceful silence. Viola rested her head on Joseph’s shoulder.

They returned to their starting point as orange, red, and pink clouds brightened the western horizon.

“I’d better get home,” Viola said anxiously. “I don’t want to push it with Father.”

Joseph navigated the boat as close to land as he could and then dropped anchor.

“What did you think?” he asked, jumping out and then lifting her out after him.

“It was a dream come true,” Viola said. “You make me so happy.”

“How I wish for the day we won’t ever have to say goodbye at the end,” Joseph said, not letting her go.

Viola looked down, and now she was troubled.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I don’t know how much my father has changed, really,” she said. “He lets us spend time together, but marriage—I’m just worried, Joseph.” She lifted her eyes to his.

“He still has that prejudice against me,” Joseph said.

Viola nodded. She rested her head against his chest. “We have to find a way!”

“We will,” Joseph said, but she saw the worry lines on his forehead.

Joseph bided his time patiently and continued to show friendliness and kindness to Viola’s family. He met all of her cousins and aunts and uncles, who viewed him with varying degrees of friendliness and suspicion. The months passed and Joseph grew restless. One Sunday evening he knocked on the door of Edward’s hut, his hat in his hands.

Edward himself answered the door. He had to stoop to see out the door. His thin forehead was wrinkled under straggling grey hair.

“Viola’s out at her cousin’s,” he said.

“I know,” Joseph said. “I didn’t come to see Viola. I came to see you.”

Edward raised his brows quizzically, but he stepped back from the door so Joseph could enter.

“I’ll get straight to the point,” Joseph began hurriedly. “You know that I am not playing games with your daughter. I have no intention of leading her on. You know why I come to see her every day. I love Viola, and I want to marry her.”

He stopped talking, earnestly hoping Viola’s father would not pull out a gun again.

“I know,” Edward said, “which is why I wish you wouldn’t. I allowed this because I was guilty, but I never encouraged it. You know this.”

“Sir, tell me what I have to do to earn your trust! I want to prove myself worthy to you!”

“Worthy?” asked Edward. “What man could ever be worthy of my daughter?”

“You don’t want your daughter to marry anyone?”

“I will not prevent her marrying, but it will not be to you. I’m sorry.”

Joseph stepped backward, internally smarting.

“Simply because of this?” he asked, holding up the ruling class medallion which he removed every time he came to the Alexander’s home. “I will get rid of it!”

Edward scoffed. “That doesn’t change who you are!” He shook his head. “It will never work, Joseph. You are fundamentally different from us. We cannot coexist forever. Not in a family, for sure.”

Joseph stood there, grasping the medallion and shaking his head in great frustration and anger. “Why?” he cried.

“Please go,” Edward said. “I’m sorry.”

Joseph walked outside, and Edward shut the door to his house and the door to Joseph’s dreams.

“Hurry, you must pack quickly,” Marianne told Viola when she got home that night. “We’re leaving first thing in the morning to go and see your grandmother.”

“Really? This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

“She’s not doing well. We’ll leave at first light.”

“How long will we be gone?” Viola said. “I have to tell Joseph.”

“Lydia will let him know.”

“No,” Viola said. “I have to tell him goodbye. I promise I’ll be back in time to pack.” She turned and ran from the cottage. She brought their horse Juniper out of the shed and jumped astride, not taking the time to saddle or bridle her.

“Let’s go!” she cried.

A few minutes later she was pounding up the lane to Joseph’s mansion. Before she had even reached the door, the butler came out to meet her.

“Miss Alexander, what is it?” he asked.

“I have to see Joseph. It’s very important.”

“Master Ericson went out this evening and he has not yet returned. I expect him soon. Will you wait?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“I will have Donatello stable your pony. Please make yourself at home in the sitting room. Can I bring you anything to eat?”

“No, thank you.”

Viola sat down on the expensive brown damask sofa and stared into the crackling flames burning on the hearth. She wondered why her parents were rushing this trip to Grandma’s. Her grandmother lived in the mountains in the center of the island. It would take them all day to get there. They had had a letter from her grandfather last week saying her grandma was slowly declining, but it had not sounded urgent. She had not seen any more letters since.

Time stretched on and on, and still Joseph did not come. Viola got up and went to the window to watch for him.

“I apologize for the delay, Miss Alexander,” said the butler, appearing at the doorway. “I did not expect him to be so late.”

“Could he be in the shop or the stable?” Viola asked.

“I really don’t think so, but you’re welcome to look,” the butler said.

Viola nodded, wrapping her shawl around her shoulders as she descended the stone steps in front of the house and made her way across the cobblestone walkway leading to the smithy. It was almost dark, and the night was growing cool. She caught the scent of smoke in the air. Both the shop and the stable were empty, except for her pony and Joseph’s magnificent pair of steeds. Donatello was there mucking out their stalls.

“Hello Miss Alexander,” the young man said, sticking his pitchfork into a bale of hay. “Did you come back with Joseph?”

“No! Have you seen him?” she asked.

“A few hours ago he said he was going to see your father,” Donatello said. “I haven’t seen him since.”

“My father!” Viola said. So that was why her parents wanted to leave town in such a hurry. Had Joseph asked him? And where was he now?

A knot of worry formed in the pit of Viola’s stomach. “Thank you, Donatello. You’ve been very helpful,” she said, hurriedly leading Juniper from the stable. The smell of smoke again accosted her. Looking up, she saw a billow of smoke in the distance.

“I don’t think that’s a bonfire, Jun,” Viola said. “Let’s go!”

“Please heal her, God!”

“He may heal her sooner if you’ll come to her,” Viola’s father said from the doorway.

Joseph jumped to his feet and reached for the sword on the table.

The tall, thin man held up his hands. “I come in peace!” he said. “And in penance. I never should have done what I did. Viola is delirious with a high fever, and she won’t say anything but your name.”

“Let me come to her!”

Edward nodded.

Joseph ran to the stable, jumped astride his fastest black mare, and flew into the pasture. He would take the back way and get to Viola’s ahead of her father. He would be of no help to her if he were dead.

When he arrived at the hut, it was just as Edward had said.

“Joseph!” Viola called, tossing and turning in the sheets. Joseph hurried to her. Her hair and face were soaked with sweat, but when Joseph took her hand, it was icy cold. He wiped her face with a cold cloth.

“The doctor has been here every few hours,” her mother said. “We’re at our wits’ end!”

“Viola, Viola, my love, I’m here!” Joseph said, clasping her icy hands. “I’m here! Please wake up, darling.”

Twenty minutes later he heard a heavy boot sound on the stone floor behind him. He froze. So this was the end. Well, he was glad he would die holding Viola’s hand. But no, then she might get shot again. And he didn’t want her to see this. He released her hand and stood quickly. But Viola’s father was staring at him, with no weapon in sight.

“You are the most extraordinary human being I’ve ever met,” he said. “The bravest and the most foolhardy.”

Joseph headed towards him. “I’m coming outside.”

“No, stay,” Edward said. “I’m not going to chase you away this time.”

Joseph looked him over again for any sign of a weapon, but there was none.

“I am an evil man,” Viola’s father said to Joseph, standing still just inside the door. “Would that it did not take a horror like this to show me that. I have treated you as no man ever should another. And only my brave daughter prevented me from doing the most unthinkable evil. I have no right to ask you for forgiveness.”

Joseph looked back at him, shaking with emotion.

“I love your daughter more than life itself,” he said, his voice unusually deep. “I would give anything for her. I was ready to give my life tonight.”

“I can see that,” the older man said. “You are none of the things I once accused you of.”

“I tried to take her from you,” Joseph said, “but she would not go against you.”

Viola’s father was silent. He came and sat down on a chair a few feet away. He put his head in his hands and began to weep. “Of course she didn’t,” he said through the tears. “That’s the kind of daughter she is.”

“But it was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life,” Viola said, looking at them both with focused eyes.

Her father rushed to her side. “You’re awake!”

“Yes,” she gave a tired smile directed at Joseph.

“Come here,” Edward said, motioning Joseph over.

Joseph knelt down next to Viola’s bed and gently hugged her.

Her father studied Joseph. “I ran into an old friend of mine on my way here,” he told him. “Real good guy. Haven’t seen him in six months. He’d fallen on hard times then, but not so now.”

“Is that so?” Joseph asked, not sure what this had to do with him.

“Yes. He has a thriving business now. Says someone gave him all the capital he needed. ‘Say, was that Joseph Ericson riding up ahead?’ he says to me. ‘Great guy, that one. He comes this way often. Always sees me and stops and talks with me. Gave me everything I needed to start my shop a few months ago. It’s doing great now. Never thought me and Margie would have it this good.’”

“Wendell Adams,” Joseph said with a smile.

“Yes!” Edward said. “I couldn’t believe you would give that much money to a Native. You weren’t just trying to impress my daughter?”

“He was a nice fellow with ambition, and I had what he needed to get started,” Joseph said.

“You never told me about it,” Viola said. “I didn’t even know you’d met.”

Edward studied Joseph from his position on his knees next to Viola’s bed. “You surprise me, Joseph Ericson.”

“All I ask is that you allow Viola to see me,” Joseph said.

Viola squeezed his hand tightly and looked at her father anxiously.

“Very well,” Edward said in a gruff voice.

“Thank you sir!” Joseph exclaimed, shaking Edward’s hand vigorously.

“You’ve brought Vi back to herself,” her father said by way of explanation for his change of mind.

Now that Joseph was able to visit Viola every day, she recovered quickly. Joseph did his best to befriend her parents too. One day when he came, her father was splitting firewood behind the cottage.

“Have another axe?” Joseph asked him.

“In there,” Edward said, motioning towards the shed behind him.

Joseph spent the next two hours helping Edward chop down small trees, split logs, and stack them neatly in piles.

“Thank you,” Edward said finally.

“Joseph,” Viola called softly from the large log where she sat watching him.

Joseph put away the axe and came and put his arms around her.

She looked at him curiously. “All that work and you’re not even sweating!”

“Small trees,” he said.

She raised her eyebrows. “They don’t look so small to me.”

He didn’t respond to her comment, but took her hand and drew her to her feet. “Come on, let’s swing. It will be more comfortable than your log. I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”

“I didn’t mind,” she said. “I can’t believe you did that for Father.”

“Why not?”

“Why not? I don’t know, maybe because he almost shot you!” She kept her voice low.

“I’m leaving that in the past,” Joseph said. They sat down next to one another.

Viola looked up at him.

“Joseph,” she said. “I love you!”

A week later, there was a knock on the Alexanders’ door. Viola answered it and saw Joseph standing there, his handsome face glowing faintly from the firelight inside. His dark hair that he brushed over the top of his head was getting long. She was strongly tempted to take his face in her hands and kiss him, but he simply smiled at her and then stepped inside and addressed her parents who were sitting at the table.

“Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Alexander.”

Her father grunted a greeting.

“Hello,” said her mother.

“I stopped by to see if the three of you would be free to come to dinner at my house next Friday,” Joseph said.

The older man and woman looked at one another in surprise.

“You want to have us for dinner?” Viola’s mother asked.

“I do.”

Edward glanced at Viola who was looking at them with hopeful expectation.

“Yes, we’ll come,” Edward said.

The next Friday Edward hitched their pony to their cart. The three of them climbed in and Edward slapped the reins. Viola directed him where to go.

“I wish I had a nicer dress,” she whispered to her mother. “Both of mine are exactly the same.”

“Joseph likes you just fine in either of them,” Marianne said. “Why should you need to wear something different now?”

“Because I’ve never gone out before.”

“We’re only going to his house!” her mother exclaimed.

“Only to his house,” she repeated under her breath when they drew up in front of his mansion. At least five times larger than their little hut, it had two stories, glass windows, and ornately curved doors and cornices. Edward knocked on the door, and the butler answered, dressed in a black suit, but Joseph immediately appeared and dismissed the butler.

“Come in!” he exclaimed warmly, shaking her parents’ hands. When he got to Viola, he held her hand instead of shaking it and didn’t let go until he had led them through the hallway, the front parlor and into the dining room, where a long table stretched down the middle, large enough to host a dozen guests. It was set for four, with china plates, real silverware, and tall burning candles. The Alexanders looked around with awe. They had never been in such a rich house. Even Viola had never been inside before. And yet, she noticed curiously, it was Joseph’s hand that had been shaking ever since he grasped hers at the door.

“Mother, look at the curtains!” Viola said, admiring the lacy drapes on the windows.

“That is quite a fireplace,” Edward said begrudgingly, directing his gaze toward the large fire in the corner, covered by an elaborately carved wooden mantle and edged with a marble base.

“Thank you, sir. Please sit down, dinner is ready.”

As soon as they were seated, a servant came from the adjoining room carrying a huge platter of steaming meat, which he set down on the table in front of them. There was already a basket of white rolls, a huge bowl of grapes, and a giant wedge of cheese. After the meat, the servant returned with a hot dish of boiled potatoes. Viola spotted the gravy boat already on the table.

Viola had never tasted more delicious food, not even at the inn, but her enjoyment was tainted by the awkward conversation. Her parents and Joseph could not figure out what to say to each other. Viola tried to soften things by complimenting the house, but that seemed to make her father even less sociable.

“Would you like to see the land?” Joseph asked them after the meal, directing a helpless, confused look in Viola’s direction.

Edward grunted agreement. Viola came and stood next to Joseph and put her arm around him. Her father looked irritated, but she did not move. It was obvious that this was not easy for Joseph, and she was going to support him. She hoped eventually her father would warm up to him.

Joseph pointed to the building that was his workshop and smithy, but did not take them inside. Instead he showed them around the land. They made their way through a field of daisies and some sparse woodland. His property went on and on. In the distance, the Adinjey River snaked its way through the lowlands.

“Where are your crops?” Edward said. “The land by the river is bound to be fertile!”

“The area next to the river is not mine,” Joseph said. “It belongs to a man named Albert Grayson.”

“Albert Grayson!” Edward said. “He’s a Native!”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“But this is miles from our country.”

“Have you ever seen a more beautiful place?” Marianne exclaimed, looking around at the miles of waving grass and flowers and the peaceful water.

“Never,” Viola said.

“It’s getting late,” Edward said. “We’d best be going.”

“Thank you so much for the wonderful dinner, Joseph!” Marianne said, shaking his hand once more.

“You’re very welcome, ma’am,” Joseph smiled. “Come anytime!”

“Thank you darling!” Viola whispered in his ear.

“That was very nice of the young man, wasn’t it, Eddie?” Marianne asked as the little family drove home in the dusk.

Edward sniffed. “He was just showing off his wealth.”

“Father!” Viola said.

“He was. Wants us to see how much more he has than us. Bigger house, nicer food, more land…as if we didn’t already know that.”

“Edward…” his wife said in a warning voice. “I thought you had moved past this kind of thinking.”

“I’m sorry about the gun,” Edward said. “And I know he’s done some good things. But that business about Albert Grayson. Did he take his land from Albert, I wonder?”

“Absolutely not!” Viola said.

“Really? Did he discuss it with you?”

“No, but I know what kind of person he is! He is always giving to others, not stealing from them.”

“But their land is right next to each other, without a straight dividing line. It’s strange.”

“I’ll ask him about it,” Viola said.

“He won’t admit it, you know that,” her father said.

“Father, can’t you see how prejudiced you are against him?” Viola exclaimed. “You have to give him a fair chance.”

“I let him see you again, I ate with him, I think I’ve done plenty,” Edward said.

Part 6 will be posted next weekend.

One evening Joseph and Viola were swinging while they talked and laughed. Joseph had his arm around her when a deep voice startled them. Viola looked up to see her father standing a few feet away. He was a tall man with a long, thin face. She had not even heard his carriage drive up.

But her father didn’t even spare her a glance. His attention was completely fixed on Joseph and the ruling class medallion he wore.

“Who are you, and what are you doing here with my daughter?” he demanded harshly.

Joseph started. The two of them rose to their feet.

“Papa, this is my good friend Joseph—” Viola began.

“Let the man speak for himself,” her father cut her off.

She paled, but Joseph flushed indignantly. “My name is Joseph Ericson. I am a blacksmith originally from Antion. I have had the great honor of meeting your daughter. She is an incredible woman.”

“What are you doing, speaking to my daughter?” Viola’s father said harshly. “What makes you think you have the right to even think of courting her? I forbid you from darkening the doors of my house ever again! Be gone!” He waved a revolver at Joseph, his eyes bulging in anger.

“Father, how can you say such things! How can you do this?” Viola pleaded, taking his arm.

“You should know better than to even entertain thoughts of being with such a man, Viola!”

Joseph walked away, grief and anger shadowing his face. Viola watched helplessly, tears streaming down her face. Joseph saw her tears and yearned to kiss them away, but he had no choice.

“Father!” Viola cried. “You don’t even know him! You have NO IDEA what he is like!”

“I think I know well enough, Viola. I’m not going to talk about it further.” He put his revolver back in its holster.

Viola turned away and went to her room. What a homecoming!

She did not come down from the loft all day. That night she climbed out of her window and with some difficulty, made her way down a tree and ran out of the village. Five miles she traveled on foot until she came to the country road Joseph lived on. She was relieved to see the lights were on in his shop. She knocked and the door opened. “Joseph, it’s me, Viola…” she began, stepping inside. The door swung shut behind her of its own accord, and she found herself face to face not with Joseph, but with a huge, burly, bare-armed man with a face not unlike a pit bull, sharpening a huge knife directly in front of her. Viola froze in terror. Joseph saw her through the crack in the door of the next room, but he was strapped unmovable to a wood post. It was an elaborate treatment for the near-paralyzing injury he had suffered years before. The mechanism required him to stay completely motionless for the duration of the treatment, or the mechanism would begin to attack him. As long as he was strapped there, he could neither move nor speak. But he could see, and what he saw tortured his soul.

“Don’t hurt me,” Viola pleaded with the stranger. “I thought this was Joseph’s blacksmith shop.”

“It’s his all right,” said the man, not even slowing his sharpening. “But he’s not here right now.”

Joseph convulsed in anger, but he could do nothing.

Viola nodded and then ran from the building.

Joseph fought against the straps that held him. Let it wound him! He must go to her! But the machine was too strong for him. For thirty minutes he fought with it in useless agony. When at last his time was up and the bonds released, he flung himself to the floor and rushed from the room.

“How dare you tell her I was not here!” he cried to his colleague at the forge. Without waiting for a response, he rushed outside. He ran down the path and out onto the road, calling her name. She was nowhere to be found. More than an hour later, he arrived at her house. She had told him her room was in the loft. He saw the flickering light of a candle in the upstairs window. Grabbing a pencil and paper from his vest, Joseph wrote a note. He climbed the tree, thanking the Lord that Viola’s family had no dogs. When he reached the window, he whispered her name. No response. A closed curtain hung over the open window. Joseph pushed it open a crack and saw Viola asleep. He swallowed and slipped his note onto the chest of drawers below the window. Then he turned, descended the tree, and made his way the five miles back home.

When he awoke a few hours later, Joseph told his assistant Jorge that he no longer needed his services. Then he saddled his horse and rode back to the meeting place where he had asked Viola to meet him. It was a wooded grove near her house. He had asked her to meet him at noon.

He slipped from his horse and tied it to a branch. He stood beside it, leaning against the saddle. A stick crunched nearby. He turned and saw her, and his heart skipped a beat. Like it did every time he saw her. Her luxurious, long black hair whipped in the wind around her shoulders. She walked with grace and confidence, like a misplaced queen, but her gorgeous face was crestfallen. No, worse than crestfallen. There was something terrible in her expression.

“Joseph, we can’t—can’t be together.” Her voice cracked.

“What?” Joseph cried, the word screaming out of his soul.

Viola looked down at her feet. “My father has expressly forbidden me.” She lifted her eyes to his and he saw her tears. “But in spite of his prejudice, I love you, Joseph, and I always will.” She shook her head and her tears flowed freely. The next words she spoke in a choked voice. “But I have to leave you.”

“Viola.” The great pain in his voice stunned her. He took her hands in his and held them tightly.

“Your father cannot separate us!” he said. “I love you, and there is nothing that can stand in the way of that. I want to marry you, Viola. There is no else I could ever marry. I will protect you. He cannot hurt you. I will provide for you. We will be deliriously happy together! You know this.”

Viola wept. “Don’t make this harder, Joseph! You know how much I love you! But I can’t be with you.” She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him. Then she tore herself from his grasp and ran from the woods.

“Viola!” he cried, the word ripping from him like his heart leaving his chest.

Immediately it began to pour down rain. Wind whipped through him, completely soaking him in seconds. He ran down the road, now a muddy slide, calling her name. She was nowhere to be found. He looked on either side of the road. When he got to the main road, he was able to go faster. He yelled her name, but the wind carried away his voice. Suddenly lightning struck a tree just a few feet ahead of him. As the world lit up with terrifying brightness, Joseph saw her body face down on the ground a few paces off. Her right arm was stretched out as if she had been trying to grasp something.

Joseph’s heart stopped. Unable to speak, he ran to her and slowly rolled her over, putting his ear to her heart. It was still beating, ever so faintly.

He cradled her in his arms and carried her the remaining mile to her house. The rain stopped just before he arrived. He knocked on the door, but no one answered. He opened the door and went in. The hut consisted of one room with a fireplace, a couple tables, boxes, baskets, a few chairs and a thick fur rug. Behind a screen there was a large bed and bowl of water. Joseph took off Viola’s muddy cloak and lay her on the bed. She was bleeding from several cuts. He was washing and bandaging them when the door opened and a thin, grey-haired woman entered. He could tell she had been beautiful once. Her face and eyes resembled Viola.

“Sweetheart!” the woman said, rushing to the bed. She glanced at Joseph. “What has happened?”

“She got hurt in the storm. She must have fallen. I found her unconscious on the ground, and I couldn’t bring her to. Is there a doctor nearby?”

“Yes! On the next street. The house next to the pier!”

“I will go call him at once!” Joseph stepped out and ran to bring him.

Viola’s mother got her into dry clothes before Joseph came back with the physician. He examined Viola.

“She hit her head on something,” he announced. “She’s in a coma. There’s no telling how long it will last. I’m sorry.”

The woman’s eyes filled with tears.

“What can we do to help her?” Joseph asked.

“Keep her warm and comfortable. Rub her hands and feet. Talk to her.”

Joseph nodded. “Thank you, doctor.”

“I will check in on her in the morning,” the doctor said and left.

Joseph uncovered one of Viola’s feet and started to rub it.

“You must go!” said Viola’s mother, Marianne. “It won’t be safe if my husband finds you here.”

“Joseph,” Viola slurred.

“She’s awake!” her mother cried, but when she bent down to look at her, she saw it was not so.

“I won’t leave her,” Joseph said. “She needs me.”

“It’s true you are the most likely one to draw her out of it, but it’s too dangerous. My husband can be very unreasonable when he is angry.”

“I only care about her,” Joseph said.

He kept rubbing her feet. Suddenly Viola’s eyes opened.

“Joseph?” she asked. She actually sounded happy.

“Viola! You’re awake!” Joseph and Marianne crowded close by the bedside.

“Yes.” Viola put her hand slowly to her head. “I’ve had such an awful dream.”

Just then the front door opened and closed. Joseph and Viola’s mother turned around to see Viola’s father walk in with a revolver extended in his right hand.

“How many times do I have to tell you,” Henry bellowed, “GET AWAY FROM MY DAUGHTER!!”

Joseph backed away from the bed.

“Edward, Joseph found Viola after she got hurt!” Marianne began talking urgently fast. “He just brought the doct—”

But it was too late. Viola’s father was already cocking his gun.

“Let’s do this outside,” he said, motioning with the gun to the door.

“Joseph!” Viola called, panicked.

Joseph stopped and looked back at her.

Edward knelt down, lifted the revolver and aimed it.

“No!!” Viola screamed and flung herself out of the bed in between them just as her father fired. She screamed in pain and fell down, blood pouring from her left arm.

“You shot Viola!!” her mother screamed. Her father dropped the gun like it burned him and crumpled to the ground beside his daughter. He bunched up her sheets to slow the bleeding and began to weep uncontrollably.

“Forgive me, Vi,” he stammered. “Forgive me!! Doctor, doctor! Where is there a doctor?”

“I will call him!” Joseph said angrily and went out.

Viola passed out in her father’s arms.

“What have I done?” Viola’s father cried, cradling his unconscious daughter in his arms.

“Why did you do it?” His wife demanded, kneeling down to attend to the bleeding.

“It was a warning shot,” her husband said. “I was aiming for his hat.”

Thanks for reading! Part 5 will be posted in one week.

“Good timing, Jos,” Aaron told him one day when he came over for a visit. “We’re going to the festival in town. You must come with us!”

“Yes, that will be perfect!” his wife Eralyn added. “We’re meeting my friend Lydia there. I have been wanting you to meet her.”

“Eralyn, please don’t,” Joseph said. “I really don’t want to be set up with anyone.”

“It’s not a date,” Eralyn said. “She is a just a friend who is meeting us. What is wrong with meeting someone new?”

“Nothing as long as she doesn’t think it’s more than that.”

“I haven’t said anything to her,” Eralyn said. “I didn’t even know you would be here.”

“Thank you. I’m not looking for anyone.”

“All right,” Eralyn said. “We just think she is an amazing young woman, and we want you to be happy.”

“Right now I will be happiest alone,” Joseph said.

Eralyn exchanged glances with Aaron and shook her head.

The three of them then made their way to the town square where a host of artists, craftsmen, and bakers had sent up tents to display their wares. Musicians made their way through the crowd playing flutes and banjos.

“Lydia owns the most delightful little shoe shop in town,” Eralyn told Joseph while they walked. “I’ve never met a store owner so young. There she is! By the first tent!”

A beautiful blonde was standing in the shade waving at Aaron and Eralyn. When the three of them approached, Aaron introduced her to Joseph. “Lydia Peters. Lydia, this is my best friend Joseph Ericson.”

Lydia gave a wide thin-lipped smile and shook Joseph’s hand. “I’m so glad to meet you!” she said.

Joseph merely nodded.

Eralyn’s smile faded a little. “What do you think of her products, Joseph?” she asked. Shelves of leather shoes, men’s and women’s boots, and sandals lined the shelves under Lydia’s tent.

Unsmiling, Joseph picked up several of the shoes and looked them over. “They are good workmanship.”

“Lydia makes them all herself,” Aaron said.

Joseph nodded but said nothing.

“I’ve got the tent, ma’am,” said a teenage girl wearing two brown braids. “You go on.”

“Thanks, Daisy.” Lydia came out and linked arms with Eralyn. “I’m ready! Lead the way!”

“Yes, ma’am!” Eralyn laughed. The four of them continued to the other tents, where they admired paintings and wood carvings, sampled sweet pastries, and enjoyed the flutes and banjos being played by traveling musicians. Aaron, Lydia, and Eralyn talked and laughed the whole evening. Joseph clapped for one song and bought a few small carved animals on display, but the rest of the time he was just going through the motions.

Aaron got him alone while the women stopped in front of a display of ruffled dresses.

“Hey man, what’s going on?” Aaron asked.

“I’m sorry I’m not being good company,” Joseph said. “I am trying, but I just can’t seem to get into it.”

“Why don’t you talk to her?” Aaron asked, motioning to Lydia.

“You know why!” Joseph said. “Just because Viola was a Native doesn’t mean I felt it any less. Just give me time.”

Aaron frowned but nodded and slapped Joseph on the back before turning to join the women.

“A lot of time,” Joseph said under his breath.

The next day he was back at work in his blacksmith shop. It was hot inside, so he brought his forge outside into the grass in front of his shop. The afternoon was cloudy with a refreshing breeze, making it much cooler to work in the open air.

Late in the day he heard light pounding steps coming down the path. He glanced up at the long narrow lane which wound down from his shop to the main road. There, in front of his very eyes, he saw the vision of his dreams running toward him down the path between fields of daisies, her black hair streaming in every direction as she fought to catch her breath. The distress on her face was obvious.

Joseph dropped the horseshoe he was holding and ran to meet her.

“Viola!” he cried, taking her hands as if they were sacred relics that might vanish on contact. “Is it really you? What is wrong?”

“Joseph?” she panted in astonishment. “Oh, Joseph, you are the blacksmith? Thank God you are the blacksmith!” She held out her arms to him and he swept her up in his, confused by her words but overjoyed by her warmth.

“Why did you leave?” he asked, his voice husky beside her ear.

“Not by choice, Joseph!” she said. “I longed to see you and explain what happened. My mother is very sick. She fell terribly sick with pneumonia the day after I last saw you. My father is traveling for three months and there was no one to care for her but me. I couldn’t leave her side, not even to work. Even now she is very ill, and she used the last of her medicine last night. I just bought more, but my cart wheel broke on the road out there. A man riding by told me there was a blacksmith this way. Will you help me fix it, Joseph?”

“Of course! Viola, I didn’t know! I thought you left the inn because of what I said to you.”

“No, never!” Viola said, tears shining in her eyes. “I asked my friends to bring you a message!”

“No one told me anything. I begged your boss to tell me your address.”

Viola sighed. “My friends are so stubborn. They won’t talk to anyone from the ruling class. I wanted so badly to see you, Joseph! I wanted it more than anything!”

Joseph did not answer her. He leaned down and kissed her. She hesitated in surprise, but then she leaned into the kiss.

“I thought I would never see you again,” Joseph whispered, his arms around her.

“I missed you so much, Joseph!”

They stayed wrapped in each other’s arms, but then Joseph sprang to life. “Your mother! We must get her the medicine. Come with me, I’ll take you home and then I will come back and fix your cart. Donatello!” he cried, running for the shop. “Harness my carriage, quickly!”

“Yes sir,” the aforementioned Donatello said, emerging from within the shop.

Joseph and Viola stabled her pony in Joseph’s stable until he could fix her cart. Two minutes later, Joseph and Viola were seated inside a spacious carriage with perfect leather seats. Donatello, a thin brown-haired young man, had sprung to the driver’s seat behind two black steeds.

“Are these all yours?” Viola asked Joseph, looking around.

He nodded.

“I knew you must have some money to own a sailboat, but I didn’t know you were—wow.”

“I suppose most wealthy people don’t work as blacksmiths,” Joseph smiled. “It’s how I was trained in Antion. When I moved here, I learned metal-welding as well. I love to work with my hands and work hard. Both businesses pay well, but that’s not why I do it.”

Viola looked at him admiringly. “I’m impressed. You’re strong, talented… Honestly, you impress me more with every new thing I learn about you.”

Joseph smiled and squeezed her hand. They rode in happy silence until they neared her home. Viola directed Donatello where to go.

“Here it is,” she said. They stopped in front of a small fishing hut.

“I will fix the wheel of your cart first thing and bring it back to you,” Joseph said.

“Thank you so much! Thank you for everything.” Viola hugged him.

“I will return before the day is done,” Joseph promised, getting out of the carriage to offer her his hand.

Viola stepped out, waved and ran inside, grasping the vial of medicine which she had kept with her the whole time.

“Mother, I’m here!” she said, going up to her mother’s bed. “I’m so sorry for the delay!”

Her mother coughed hard. “At last!”

“I’m sorry! The cart broke down. But here is the medicine! Take some right away.” She helped her mother sit up enough to take a spoonful of the medicine.

Her mother swallowed it and then shook her head. She spoke in a weak voice. “But something good happened then. I can see it. You are radiant and glowing!”

Viola smiled. “I found him again. The man I love.”

“What’s this?” her mother demanded. “You haven’t spoken of anything like this to me.”

Viola nodded. “His name is Joseph,” she said.

“Who is this Joseph?” her mother asked.

“He is delight itself,” Viola said, resting her chin on her knee that she had bent in front of her on top of the bed. “The gentlest, strongest, most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

“When and how did you meet him?” her mother asked, coughing again. Viola helped her take a drink of water.

“I met him on the beach,” Viola said. “Or rather, he met me on the beach.”

“How could he meet you but you not meet him?”

“I was asleep. But he left me his name, written out of seashells. We met by chance one night in the inn. He came to my side of the restaurant even though he is ruling class—”

“Ruling class?” Viola’s mother shifted angrily on the pillows. “What? Viola, no. You cannot be with one of them. You know this!”

“But why?”

“Because they are evil! They stole our country from us! They are oppressors. The whole lot of them!”

“No, Mother! He is not! He’s the best person I’ve ever met. And that happened hundreds of years ago, without a war.”

“It is our island.”

“I’m not sure if we can realistically expect them to give up all of their homes and businesses now. I don’t like them being here, but they and their parents and grandparents have been living here their whole lives.”

“They have no right to be here,” her mother snapped. “Them, or their parents or grandparents. They pushed us aside and took over the land. You know this!”

“Joseph didn’t push anyone aside. Also, he stood up to protect me from a drunk late one night at the inn. I don’t know what would have happened if he hadn’t been there!”

Her mother’s furious face softened almost imperceptibly, but she said, “One good deed doesn’t undue the actions of centuries.”

“And his mother was a native,” Viola added.

Her mother was silent for a moment. Then she said, “If it were his father that might change things. Sons usually take after their fathers.”

“Not always!”

Her mother brushed her hands together. “I have no more to say about it. I don’t want to see him. I’m sorry, dear.”

Viola’s face hardened and she got up and went out of the room.

When Joseph came that evening with her pony and cart, Viola could not bring him inside. She went out to talk with him in the garden.

“Hello darling,” he said, embracing her. Then he held her at arms’ length, concern etched on his face. “Why do you look sad, Viola?”

“My mother will not even agree to meet you,” she said. “Because you are ruling class.”

Joseph nodded soberly. “That will make things hard.”

“Will it change your feelings?” she asked anxiously.

“Never,” Joseph said.

Viola breathed such a sigh of relief Joseph, still with arms around her, felt it. “Not so long as it doesn’t change yours.”

“Your race could never change the way I think or feel about you,” Viola said.

Part 4 will be published in one week.

“Table for one?” asked the freckled young boy sitting at the front desk.

“Yes, please, in the back section,” Joseph said. He shifted his gaze back and forth, trying to spot Viola.

“Certainly,” the boy said, with the same raising of eyebrows the first girl had given him last week. He led Joseph to a tiny table next to a window in the back of the restaurant. A server headed towards him, but it wasn’t Viola. No, he had to have Viola. That was the entire point.

“Good evening, sir. May I take your order?” asked the very polite, annoying blonde.

“Not just now. I’m waiting for someone.”

“Oh, no problem,” said the waitress. “I’ll be back later.” She headed off for another table.

Just then he saw her.

Viola was dressed in the same plain dark brown serving dress all the waitresses wore, her black hair hanging in a thick braid down her back. A few short strands had come free and were twirling next to her forehead. Her cheeks were tinged with red from working hard, and her lips were redder still. Her eyelashes were so thick and long he could see them from across the room. Joseph’s heart beat faster. He smiled at her.

She hesitated and began to blink very fast, but she neither smiled nor frowned. She came over to his table then, but he wasn’t sure whether she was glad or unhappy to see him. He himself was not sure whether he should be there, but he had promised to return, so here he was.

“Good evening,” Viola said, in a cool voice, keeping her eyes on her notebook. “What can I get for you tonight?”

She wasn’t happy to see him. His attention was unwelcome, he realized. And was that any surprise? All the Natives hated the ruling class. They viewed them as invaders and thieves of the land. Or at least their ancestors.

Then she lifted her eyes to his, and in that moment he realized he would give her the whole island if it were in his power to do so. Suddenly he became aware how long his silence had lasted. She was looking at him expectantly.

He cleared his throat. “As I said I would, I came back to get more of your recommendations.”

“Ah yes,” she said, her voice like music. “Well, if you want a hearty meal, you can’t beat the beef stroganoff.”

He smiled. “I’ll be happy to try that!”

“Very well.” She jotted it in her notebook and curtsied before departing to the kitchen. While she was gone, Joseph summoned his courage. When she returned and set the steaming plate of pasta down in front of him, he thanked her. She was starting to walk away when he held up his hand and said, “Wait a second, Viola. I have a question for you.” He swallowed nervously. It was so hard to talk to this gorgeous woman. “What would you say is the happiest day you can remember?” he asked.

Surprised, she stopped to think.

“Hmm…I would have to say it was the time my grandpa took me sailing with him and Grandma. I only got to go once because he had to sell his boat soon after, but it was the most amazing day of my life. I will never forget it!”

Joseph smiled. “I love sailing too. I always feel free.”

“You sail?” she asked impulsively.

“I do! I have a sailboat and often sail around the island from the East Harbor.”

Viola looked wistful.

“Come with me,” Joseph said.

She studied him, her expression open and could it be—a tad excited? “I’ll—I’ll think about it,” she said. She refilled his glass, but then she lingered by his table.

“Do you have family here?” she asked.

“Not anymore,” he said. “It’s just me ever since my parents died.”

“That must get lonely.”

He nodded. “Turns out money can’t keep you company. At least I have Jack.”

“Jack?”

“My border collie.”

“Ah.” She smiled and remembered she had guessed Jack was his dog.

“Yeah, Jack is my constant companion. I’ve had him for years. I’ll bring him by, and you can meet him!”

“I would like that.” Viola smiled.

Joseph kept visiting the inn often to see Viola. For her part, she thought him strange at first—unusual, out of place, possibly dangerous. He always seemed to keep her off balance. But he was always kind and generous and he always asked the most thought-provoking questions. She found herself looking forward to seeing him. And it was hard to keep her eyes off him—his handsome face, curly black hair, perceptive brown eyes, and muscled arms. She wondered what he did all day to look like that.

One night an older man came into the inn drunk and sat in Viola’s section. When she came to wait on him, he started calling her pet names. She did not return the flirting, and he quickly became insolent. Soon he turned even uglier and began insulting her in a loud voice from across the room. He stood up and pointed an angry finger at her while he alternated catcalling with nasty jokes. Viola earnestly wished the owner of the inn was there that night. He would have immediately escorted the man out. She was praying the man would leave when suddenly Joseph was standing next to her. She had not even seen him come in.

“If you have a problem with the lady, you can talk to me!” Joseph said to the drunk man, shaking him back into his seat. The man was silent for a few moments and then began again.

“Nope, no you don’t!” Joseph said loudly and firmly, getting right down in his face.

Encouraged by Joseph’s presence and physical strength, two of the other waiters came over to the drunk man’s table.

“We’re sorry, sir, but we’d like to ask you to leave,” they said to him.

The man railed at them, but Joseph pointed to the door and the man stood and slowly skulked away and out the door.

Viola finally breathed. Suddenly she was shaking.

“Are you all right?” Joseph put his arm around her shoulder and steadied her.

She gave him a small smile. “I am now. Thank you for making him be quiet!”

Joseph shook his head. “No thanks needed!”

“What can I get for you tonight?” she asked with a smile as Joseph seated himself at the table next to where they stood. When Viola came back with the food, she stayed by his table.

“Did you grow up on Tanigwe?” she asked suddenly.

He looked up at her. “No,” he said. “I was born in Antion. My mother was a native of these islands. I did not come to Tanigwe until I was 18.”

Viola’s mouth dropped open. “You’re a native?”

“No,” Joseph said. “My father was of the ruling class. I bear his name and his appearance. But I grew up among the natives.”

Viola’s heart warmed to hear this. All that time she had thought of him as a stranger, almost an enemy. Now she felt like he was one of them. She looked at him and smiled.

“To me it makes no difference what race you are,” he said. “I wanted to get to know you from the moment I saw you on that beach. You were so different, so wild, so beautiful.”

Viola blushed.

Joseph reached for her hand. “I had to tell you how I feel, Viola,” he said, his gaze boring into hers. “But I won’t keep coming if you’d rather not see me again.”

“No…I want to see you,” Viola said.

Joseph’s smile lit up his whole face.

“Do you really mean it?”

To his surprise she laughed. “You mean, do I think of you first thing every morning, just hoping I might see you today? Yes, I do.”

He stared at her.

“Well then,” he said. “You’ll never have to wonder again.”

Joseph returned to the inn early the next evening. He could not wait to see Viola. He had brought her a bouquet of fragrant lilacs from his garden. He saw all the usual servers, but Viola was nowhere to be seen.

“Table for one?” one of the waitresses asked him.

“Yes, please. Is Viola here?” he asked.

“No, I haven’t seen her today. Maybe she’s coming in late.”

The other waitress waited on him. He watched for Viola, but she never came. He returned the next day with the same result. Before he left, he stopped to speak to the owner, a rather sour-faced, overweight fellow.

“Is Viola Alexander okay?” Joseph asked. “I noticed she hasn’t been here for several days.”

“No, she hasn’t, and if she doesn’t show up soon, she won’t have a job here any longer,” the innkeeper replied.

“Is she all right?” Joseph asked.

“I do not have the ability to know the answer to that,” the man said. “And don’t ask me where she lives. I don’t divulge personal information about my employees to customers.”

“I’m just worried about her,” Joseph admitted. “She’s my friend and this isn’t like her.”

“No, it’s not, but there is nothing either you or I can do about it unless she gets back to work,” the innkeeper said.

“Let me at least write her a letter to see what has happened,” Joseph pleaded.

“I’m not going to repeat myself,” the innkeeper said coldly by way of dismissal.

Joseph walked out. He kicked stones off the one-lane road as he made his way homeward. Red and orange leaves sprinkled the pavement. Head down, he tried to process what had happened. He had confessed his feelings to Viola and after claiming to share them, she had run. Why not tell him the truth at once? Was she too frightened of him to be honest? And that thing about thinking of him first thing every morning, hoping to see him—was that a lie? Or had her feelings changed overnight? She must have decided that his race was a dealbreaker. He wished she had just told him the truth, no matter how painful. It would never have been as painful as this.

Her beautiful image haunted him. He threw himself into work. For days he cranked out project after project—he caught up on all his blacksmith work and then he set about on his other projects. He was also a trained metal welder and artisan. A few merchants had commissioned him to fashion swords for them. He worked from daybreak until late in the night trying to finish them.

“Are you ever going to sleep, Joseph?” asked Jorge, his assistant. “It’s midnight, and still you’re working.”

“Not yet,” Joseph said, not lifting his eyes from the forge.

“You haven’t eaten for days.”

“I have.”

“Sure, an apple and a hunk of bread,” Jorge said. “Hardly counts. What’s going on with you? You haven’t been this out of it since your injury all those years ago.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Joseph said through gritted teeth.

Jorge shrugged and let him be.

But then he saw her. A young woman lying on her side on the sand. He stopped short. Surely mermaids did not exist! She had waist-length, soft black hair, a white blouse and a long blue satin skirt. The skirt was twisted so tight around her legs at first glance it resembled a mermaid’s tail.

The young man knelt beside her and got his first look at her face. And stared. Luxuriously soft, silky thick black hair fell in waves to her waist. She had flawless skin and bold, perfectly-shaped black eyebrows above large almond-shaped eyes. Her long, thick eyelashes touched the tops of her rosy cheeks. Her soft, thick lips were an even deeper red. Everything about her—her skin, her complexion, her figure, her facial features—were all flawless and perfect. The wind blew around them, bringing the scent of salt water and ruffling her soft black hair. As she lay there fast asleep, she made it seem that complete perfection was effortless to achieve.

“Is she a dream, Jack?” the man asked his dog softly. “Beauty like this exists only in heaven!” He kept staring at her, transfixed. His dog ran to and fro, barking for them to go.

“All right, all right, I know we have to be getting back,” the young man said reluctantly. “Don’t wake her.” Continuing to kneel beside her, Joseph untied the band of shells from around his neck and slipped off the shells. These he arranged in a pattern on the sand, adding the shells he had gathered that morning, to form the appearance of one word: “Joseph.”

“Come on, Jack, let’s go,” he whispered, slowly tearing his eyes away from her and walking on.

Viola stirred and opened her eyes. She saw something on the ground beside her and started up, squinting in the bright sunlight. Sand particles stuck to her messy hair.

Thoughts whirled together in her sleepy brain.

When did I fall asleep? Here on the beach! And—what is this? She saw the word spelled out of seashells. “Joseph.” She looked around. Someone had been here. In this empty forsaken no man’s land. A man. And he had left a message for her.

She shivered.

Why?

Then she remembered the voice she had heard while half asleep.

“Is she a dream, Jack? Beauty like hers exists only in heaven.”

Who is Jack? She wondered. Were there two men?

She looked down and saw a faint pawprint in a damp hollow of sand. It triggered a vague memory of a dog barking. Perhaps Jack was the man’s dog?

She examined the shells closely. They were perfect, every one unbroken except for a tiny hole near the edge of some. Whoever this Joseph was, he wanted her to know something about him—even if it was only his name. She gathered up the shells and fingered them, wondering. There were so few people on the island, there might be only one man in the whole place named Joseph.

She looked around, but she could not see anyone between her and the tall sand dunes in the distance. She knew most of the natives already, but not one of them bore the name Joseph. It must have been a member of the ruling class, she realized with dread. Those people lived on one side of the island in their great houses, while the natives lived on the other. Their home was a place she would not explore, so the mystery would die unsolved. She did not want to meet any of those men anyway.

She worked at an inn in the borderland and she saw plenty enough of that lot—rough, uncouth drunks for the most part, although they were the richest people on the island. Thankfully the inn was split into two sections and only natives ate on her side of the restaurant. The ruling class had come to the island centuries ago. They were wealthier and more educated than the native people and had quickly taken over, to the resentment of the natives. As a result, they had chosen to separate. The inn where she worked was one of the few places both groups frequented.

Viola got to her feet. She had not intended to fall asleep. It had placed her in a very vulnerable position, and she was glad that Joseph had not disturbed her. She made her way off the beach and through the tall grass to the little fishing village where she lived with her elderly parents. She pushed open the wood-slat door of their hut and made her way across the main room to the ladder. Up in the loft, which served as her bedroom, she set the shells down on her desk and took a thick thread from a basket. She threaded the shells with holes onto it and then tied it around her neck. She looked at herself in the foggy, broken mirror above her chest of drawers. The shells lay perfectly around her neck, as if they belonged there. She had very little jewelry—they couldn’t afford luxuries like that when they lived solely off the money they made selling fish at the market and what Viola made at the inn.

Viola thought this was the most beautiful necklace she had ever owned. She smiled at her reflection, wondering again who this mysterious man was. Then she quickly dismissed the thought and climbed back down the ladder.

Joseph returned home to his blacksmith shop and tried to forget about the beautiful woman, but as he pounded iron and melded steel, her image kept filling his mind. This went on day after day, until Joseph was fit to be tied. One day he went to visit his best friend Aaron who had recently married and moved to his wife’s parents’ town.

“Eralyn is staying with her sister until Anne has the baby,” Aaron said. “What do you say we head to the inn for dinner? I know you don’t want my cooking.” He gave a teasing smile.

Joseph punched his friend playfully. “Yeah, no,” he said. “Let’s go!”

A few minutes later they entered the loud, bustling building on the main road.

“Dinner for two?” asked the maid at the front desk. “What name should I put it under?”

“Joseph,” he said, hurrying after her through the busy inn, Aaron close behind. Joseph stepped to the left to let someone pass and came face to face with a young waitress.

It was the woman from the beach. They were only inches away from one another. They both froze and stared at one another, hearts pounding. They stepped apart. Blinking fast, the girl turned away and hurried to the other side of the restaurant.

She is here! Joseph thought. And recognized me. How? No sooner did the thought come to him than he knew.

She heard me say my name.

“There is a table for two over here,” the first girl was saying.

“Just a minute,” Joseph said. “Will you please seat us in the back section of the inn?”

“The natives’ side?” the girl asked, raising her eyebrows. “Fair enough. Right this way.”

“Joseph, what are you doing?” Aaron asked, grabbing his arm.

“Trust me on this,” Joseph said, continuing on.

They were seated in a cozy back corner of the inn. A minute later, the very lady in question walked up to their table. Her gaze held on Joseph, and she cleared her throat nervously. “Good evening, what may I get for you tonight?” In those days, servers did not introduce themselves by name to customers.

She was just as beautiful as she had been the first day. Her long black hair fell like a waterfall to her waist, and her black eyes shone like obsidian. Joseph swallowed the lump in his throat. Then he noticed the seashell necklace she wore. If she were a member of the ruling class, she would wear a gold medallion on a long chain, as he and Aaron and every other member of their class had done since their first day of adulthood. Its absence was the most certain way to identify islanders as natives.

Aaron placed his order first and then the young woman shifted her gaze back to Joseph. She seemed like she was trying to memorize his face.

“What would you recommend?” he asked her.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“My personal favorite would be the crab legs.” Her voice was musical.

“Then bring me crab legs,” Joseph said, smiling up at her.

“Certainly,” she curtsied slightly, as the waitresses were supposed to do, and hurried away without even writing it in her book.

Joseph’s gaze followed her to the kitchen.

She soon returned with their orders. When she came back again later to check on them, Joseph said, “I know I can trust you now.”

“Excuse me?” she asked, smiling.

“I know when you recommend something, it will surpass my expectations.” He held up a crab leg. “This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten!”

“I’m so glad you like it!”

“No, I love it! Tell me, what is the secret ingredient? I’ve never had crab like this before.”

“I’m not sure. Maybe if I bribe the chef, he’ll tell me what it is,” the young woman laughed.

“I must know,” Joseph said, but then he held up his hand. “I don’t want to get you in trouble. But I will certainly be coming back here often to get more of your recommendations.”

The waitress smiled and laughed before she hurried away to another table.

“I know what you’re up to,” Aaron said to Joseph, “and she is beautiful no doubt, but don’t even think about it! Remember who the Natives are!”

“I’m half Native, for the record,” Joseph said.

“I know your mother was, may she rest in peace, but your father was ruling class, and so are you. You know how hard it was for your parents.”

“You’re right,” Joseph sighed.

“Just let her go.”

Just then the woman came back to the table, smiling like an angel out of heaven. “Can I get you anything else?” she asked.

“Just one thing,” Joseph said. “Your name.”

Aaron smacked him under the table.

She smiled and blushed slightly. “Viola Alexander.”

Joseph repeated it. “It fits you,” he said. “Elegant, like you.”

Viola laughed and looked surprised. In all her days of fishing, scrounging for food and waiting tables, “elegant” was a description that Viola had never heard or thought of for herself. She looked for a hint of mockery in Joseph’s tone or expression, but she found none. Only an endearing hint of self-consciousness.

“I think it’s time to get out of here,” Aaron said. “Would you bring us the bill please, Viola?”

She nodded and went to get what he had asked.

“What happened to ‘You’re right’?” Aaron demanded of Joseph.

“I meant what I said,” Joseph said, “but as soon as I saw her smiling like the sun in the sky, I don’t know, I just couldn’t help myself.”

Aaron shook his head. “How about this?” he said. “You go now, and I will pay the bill.”

Joseph looked at him.

“I’m serious,” Aaron said. “Go.”

“I don’t want to be rude.”

“I’ll apologize for you.” Aaron pushed him away from the table.

Reluctantly Joseph walked to the door, but he hadn’t gone three steps outside when he felt a light tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Viola standing in front of him.

“Before you go…” she said. “I know you are the man who found me on the beach. These shells—they’re yours.” She held out her necklace.

“Not anymore. I gave them to you.”

She pulled her hand back. “Why did you spell your name with them?”

He looked at her. “I had hoped we might meet again,” he said simply.

Viola smiled and closed her hand around the shells. “Thank you,” she said, and then she was gone.

Joseph stood there, looking after her.

Aaron came out of the inn.

“Who is she?” Joseph said aloud.

“She’s a Native, and that’s all you need to know,” Aaron repeated, taking Joseph’s arm and steering him away from the inn.

“Yes, she is a Native, and a wholesome, kind, and beautiful one.”

“Those are contradictions, friend. You know how hateful they all are of us.”

“But that’s where you’re wrong, friend!” Joseph cried, turning to face Aaron on the path. “My mother was all of those things, and she was a Native.”

“Your mother was a great exception. I think your father’s influence was very powerful. But he didn’t want you to follow his path.”

“I don’t know what my father wanted for me,” Joseph said, looking into the distance. “He didn’t live long enough to show me.”

Part 2 will be posted in one week.