The Witness

heart.”
    She turned, her hand fisted over her heart, her eyes drenched with tears and emotion. “No one ever said that to me. In my life, no one’s ever said those words to me.”
    “I’m making you a promise right here that you’ll hear them from me every day.”
    “No—no, don’t promise. Don’t. I don’t know what I’m feeling. How do I know it’s not just hearing those words? It’s overwhelming to hear them, to look at you, and to see you mean them. Or it seems you do. How do I know?”
    “You can’t know everything. Sometimes you have to trust. Sometimes you have to just feel.”
    “I want it.” She kept her hand clutched over her heart, as if opening her fingers would allow it all to fly away. “I want it more than I can stand.”
    “Then take it. It’s right here.”
    “It’s not right. It’s not fair to you. You don’t understand; you can’t.”
    “Abigail.”
    “That’s not even my name!”
    She slapped a hand over her mouth, sobbed against it. He only stepped to her, brushed tears from her cheek.
    “I know.”
    Every ounce of color draining, she stumbled back, gripped the porch rail. “How could you know?”
    “You’re running or hiding from something, or someone. Maybe some of both. You’re too damn smart to run and hide under your real name. I like Abigail, but I’ve known it’s not who you are right along. The name’s not the issue. Your trusting me enough to tell me is. And it looks like we’re getting there.”
    “Does anyone else know?”
    “Scares the hell out of you. I don’t like that. I don’t see why anyone else would know, or care. Have you let anyone else get as close as you’ve let me?”
    “No. Never.”
    “Look at me now.” He spoke quietly as he moved to her. “Listen to me.”
    “I am.”
    “I’m going to tell you I won’t let you down. You’re going to come to believe that, and we’ll go from there. Let’s try this part again. I’m in love with you.” He eased her into a kiss, kept it soft until she’d stopped trembling. “There, that wasn’t so hard. You’re in love with me. I can see it, and I can feel it. Why don’t you try the words?”
    “I don’t know. I want to know.”
    “Just try them out, see how it feels. I won’t hold you to it.”
    “I … I’m in love with you. Oh, God.” She closed her eyes. “It feels real.”
    “Say it again, and kiss me.”
    “I’m in love with you.” She didn’t ease in, but flung herself. Starving for that knowledge, the gift, the light of it. Love. Being loved, giving it.
    She hadn’t believed in love. She hadn’t believed in miracles.
    Yet here was love. Here was her miracle.
    “I don’t know what to do now.”
    “We’re doing fine.”
    She breathed in, out. Even that felt different. Freer. Fuller. “I want to heat up the food. I want to teach you how to use chopsticks, and have dinner with you. Can we do that? Can we just be for a while?”
    “Sure, we can.” If she needed a little time, he could give it. “But I’m not promising anything on the chopsticks.”
    “You changed everything.”
    “Good or bad?”
    She held on another minute. “I don’t know. But you changed it.”

21
     
    D EALING WITH THE MEAL SETTLED HER DOWN—THE SIM plicity and routine. He didn’t pressure her for more. That, she understood, was his skill and his weapon. He knew how to wait. And he knew how to change the tone, to give her room, to help her relax so her thoughts weren’t tied up in knots of tension.
    His clumsiness with the chopsticks, though she suspected at least some of it was deliberate, made her laugh.
    She’d laughed more since he’d come into her life than she had in the whole of it before him.
    That alone might be worth the risk.
    She could refuse it, ask for more time. He would give it to her, and she could use it to research another location, another identity, make plans to run again.
    And if she ran again, she’d never know what might have been. She’d never feel what she felt now, with him. She’d never again allow herself to try.
    She could—would—find contentment, security. She had before. But she’d never know love.
    Her choice was to take the rational route—leave, stay safe. Or to risk it all, that safety, her freedom, even her life, for love.
    “Can we walk?” she asked him.
    “Sure.”
    “I know you’re tired,” she began, as they stepped outside. “We should wait to talk about … everything.”
    “Tomorrow’s as good as