took off my tights.
Kevin laughed. The sound was robust and
captivating. “Don’t worry. I was a perfect
gentleman.”
I arched a brow. “Says you.”
was white and cream and light blue. So much
whiter than my scarf but the same. I was sure of
it. All of those stitches had distracted me from the
spikes of pain that coursed through my blood on
those long, dark nights. I traced my forefinger over
a knot where I had pulled the skein too tightly as a
spasm had taken hold of me.
Kevin laughed again, a deep, rich laugh that
vibrated into my chest and turned into sparks that
traveled to the tips of my toes. Somewhere in the
back of my mind, I knew that I should be uneasy
with the way I ended up in the apartment of a boy I
hadn’t seen in years. And now, he was a man. But
one look at the solid line of his chest as he stood
before me and the adorable tilt of his head and I
didn’t care.
How was this possible? This was my scarf, but it
was huge now, the size of a blanket. There were
so many more stitches woven into the pattern that
I had created. My gaze jerked to Kevin’s face. He
watched me steadily, a hint of concern tightening
his brow.
He moved to perch on the arm of the sofa. Our
gazes held. I had the sudden sense of being wellliked by this man. The wonder of it infused my
chest with warmth. I didn’t even care about the
boots anymore. “You remembered me.”
I turned to face him. His hand moved reflexively
to settle on my shoulder. Warmth flooded my neck
and chest. I whispered, “What happened?”
“Of course. You’re still the same Maggie I always
knew.”
I held his gaze as though in a trance. “Where’ve
you been all these years? And why are you
back? Are you studying at the University of
Pennsylvania?”
For just an instant, his smile fell away, and I spied
a flash of wistfulness. He stretched his arm toward
me, and I thought he was going to touch my leg.
My heart rate ratcheted. But he kept bending till he
grabbed the blanket from the floor. With a swoosh
of his arms, he stretched out the blanket so that it
drifted over my legs.
A strange lightness coursed through me, as
though I were a windsock filling with the night
breeze. The fabric of the blanket was soft, like
marshmallows in hot cocoa. I was vaguely aware
that I shook my head even as I rubbed the woven
knit between my thumb and forefinger. The color
“It’s okay, Maggie.” He lowered himself to sit on
the couch next to me.
“Maggie.” So patient and gentle, the same as
when he was nine years old. “You already know.”
“Tell me, Kevin.” The words were a sob.
“You died.”
A cavalcade of emotion erupted in my chest and
rose inside me until it pushed tears from my eyes.
I found it difficult to breathe. Absurdly, I scanned
the apartment, picking out the things I hadn’t
noticed before, mesmerized by the glamour. The
expanse between this apartment and the lights
below could only be accommodated by a building
some sixty stories up. There were no buildings like
that overlooking the river.
The haze of beautiful blue light that suffused the
room, cerulean and soothing, came from some
unseen source. There were no chandeliers, floor
lamps, or bulbs of any kind in the room. Paintings
hung on the wall that might have been priceless
French impressionists but were three-dimensional
masterpieces seen without special glasses. It was
January 2014 | 107