Pieces of Hope (13 page)

           
“By the way, I got your message,” he said. I looked up to
see a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He sat down on a patch of
grass near the riverbank, removing his waders, and buttoning his shirt in the
process.

I stared
at him blankly.

“
Amora
,” he prompted. “In case you haven’t heard, I sent
mine back.”

           
Again, I forced air into my lungs. Being without a body
wasn’t as breezy as I had imagined, especially with Ethan around. And he was
kidding, wasn’t he? When I left the hospital, I asked
Amora
to give him my love. I tried to picture his face as she told him—a message from
the beyond passed along as innocently as love notes in grade school. He must
have thought it a joke. How could that ill little girl have a message from me?
I took a second look at that lopsided smile. Or was it a smirk? And quickly
decided.

He was
teasing. Obviously.
 

“I was
just joking,” I said. But the delusional part of me wasn’t so sure.

“Oh?” he
said, his expression unchanged. “I was hoping you weren’t.” I couldn’t tell if
he was being serious, but I felt the shock of it register on my face.
       

Pulling
a shirt from his backpack, Ethan stretched it out beside him, then helped me
take a seat. We said nothing for a while, just watched the tiny minnows as they
played hide-and-seek in the river’s rocky shallows. His right hand was holding
mine a little too tightly, and I suspected he was equally as afraid of me
disappearing as I was of him doing the same. Somehow the holding on eased both
our fears.

           
Still holding my hand, Ethan skipped several smooth rocks
across the water. With my heart pounding, I blurted out, “The nerves, uh . . .
I assume it’s because you think you know me.”

“I don’t
think it,” he corrected, skipping another rock left-handed. “I know it. And how
exactly did you come by this information?” he asked, not at all serious.

           
I looked over, marveling at the pale shade of violet
around him, trying to be as natural as possible. “I was listening at the
hospital when you explained it to me, standing right beside the bed, as a
matter of fact.” I sounded fairly composed, given the circumstances —heavenly
being and all beside me.

           
“Is that so?” Ethan smiled, directed his eyes on mine.
“Well, that’s one crazy fact. You know, when I wake up, I’ll probably try to
rationalize all of this, chalk it up to a wild imagination, all because I’ve
wanted to talk to you, like this . . . face to face, ever since I first saw
you.”

           
The force of his unblinking gaze made my palms sweaty, or
maybe I wasn’t used to someone saying things with such directness. It took a
moment to arrange my thoughts, assemble them again in straight lines. I glanced
down at our entwined hands, then looked back bravely into his eyes.
 

“Please
don’t wish me away, Ethan. I’m real, and I can prove it.”

           
“Go on,” he said, not hiding his skepticism. “I’m
listening.”

           
“Well, for one, I know you recently had another dream
about me. Brody was in it and we all went climbing. I’ll bet when you woke up
you wondered if it had really been a dream. Did you notice how it stayed with
you? How you couldn’t get it out of your head? And, unlike other dreams, this
one didn’t jump around—it made perfect sense, like it was really happening.”
Ethan cocked a single eyebrow, and I emphasized, “That’s because it
was
really happening.”

           
“Sorry, doesn’t prove a thing. If
it’s all in my head I could be telling myself to say that.” He looked almost
disappointed. But there was amusement in his tone when he said, “You can do
better than that. Come on, convince me.”

           
I grabbed his hand and pressed it to my heart; it was
warm against my skin. “You hear that, don’t you?” I was shocked at my courage,
but I was paranoid that he might turn me into nothing—a ghost, a delusion, a
wild figment of his imagination.
Eighty
times the charm!
I sprang up and pulled him with me, throwing my arms wide,
and twirling around in the sunshine. “You see the colors, don’t you? How vivid
they are? This is more than a dream, Ethan. I’m really, really here!”

           
He seemed both intrigued and bewildered by my display. I
waited several seconds for him to say something. When a smile touched his lips,
I felt my heart drop.

           
“Hope Valenti . . .” he said softly, his hand cupping the
side of my face. “You have the strangest little mind.”

They
were the same words he’d spoken at Heaven’s Peak. That was a good sign, wasn’t
it? Maybe he couldn’t get me out of his head. Maybe he almost believed me now
when I’d told him this was real. His emerald eyes flicked toward the trees, and
then back again, and I saw excitement alight in them.
      
  

           
“If this is truly my
reality
”—he
grinned as he said it—“I have a surprise for you.” He lifted my hand, turned it
over, and kissed my palm. “It’s a little out of the ordinary, but I believe you
of all people can appreciate it. You trust me, don’t you?”
  

It was
an odd question, but I was slightly dazed. Where he held my hand, his pale
violet glow enveloped me. Immersed in Ethan, I felt a little off-kilter.
    

I was
still spinning when he reached inside his backpack, removed a red bandana and
rolled it into a narrow band. My ears perked up when he said, “I would carry
you, but your senses are a part of the experience.” He looked into my eager
eyes. “Ready?”

I nodded
dreamily.

“Well,
turn around . . . I can’t put the blindfold on from—”

“Whoa!”
I yelled, stepping away, my head disturbingly clear. “I’m not into the kinky
stuff!”

Ethan
laughed so hard that I almost laughed with him. “It’s nothing like that,” he
assured me. “Just part of the surprise. Besides,” he added, his eyes teasing,
“you trust me. Remember?”
  

“Famous
last words of the innocent,” I mumbled, and Ethan laughed again.

I turned
slowly, obediently, as he slipped the fabric around my eyes, making sure it
wasn’t too tight, talking to me as he did so. His silky voice was in my ear,
one and then the other. I stood rigid, my nerves on edge. Part of my jumpiness
had to be coming from Ethan, I reasoned; I had to be feeling his emotions as
well. These couldn’t be only mine, could they?

In the
distance, I heard a faint voice, almost as if someone had called to me. When I
tilted my head, Ethan’s lips accidentally brushed against my ear, sending my
heart into arrhythmia. Then, just as he’d done in the Jeep right before he
disappeared—as if it were second nature to him—he ran the back of his hand gently
along my cheek.
 

“It’s
going to be fun. I promise.” He sounded so normal, quite unlike how I
felt.
   

“Sure .
. . when I blindfold you on our African safari, and you hear hungry rhinos
snorting in the distance, I’ll remind you that you said that.”

“Hungry
rhinos?” I heard his low laugh beside me. “Did anyone ever tell you that you
think too much? Just let your senses take over.” He took my left hand in his,
wrapped his right arm around me, and together we walked to our unknown
destination.

It was difficult
to pay attention to anything else with his chiseled body pressed up against
mine, but eventually I relaxed enough to follow his suggestion. At first, I
felt the skinny blades of grass as they brushed against my ankles, but soon
they disappeared, the ground growing rocky and uneven. As we approached a steep
incline, Ethan gripped me tighter, briefly causing me to forget what I was
doing. Though the ground never leveled, the air smelled sweet and musty up
here, like wildflowers and wetness. The whisper of a mist drifted down upon my
skin, and there was a pleasant roaring, a pounding in my ears. It seemed to
echo off the space around us. We had to be nearly on top of it, a waterfall, I
guessed.

“Stop
here,” Ethan said quietly. I felt the warmth of his breath on my ear, and the
insistent beating of his heart against my shoulder. It was good to know that
mine wasn’t the only one pounding out a complicated rhythm.

I
shivered, but it had nothing to do with the mist.

“Are you
cold?” he asked. Without waiting for a response, he untied the cardigan from my
waist, slipped my arms into it, and sat me down on a thick blanket. I stretched
out my legs, leaned back against my hands, and focused on the sound of his
voice.

“We’re
here,” he said. Mimicking my posture, he slid an arm behind my back.

“Now
what?” Surely there was more to my glorious surprise than a blindfolded jaunt
across the countryside—even if the walk here was pretty exciting.

“
Shhh
. . . just listen.”

There
was something in his tone, not a command, more of a request, that made me want
to try. It seemed a little silly at first, what with the pounding of the water
drowning out every other sound. But the more I listened, the more I heard.

The
sounds became so distinct that I began to see the images in my mind, almost as
if the blindfold were missing. I even reached up once to make sure it was still
in place. The acoustics were incredible, like being at an outdoor amphitheatre.
I heard the highest highs and the lowest lows—a woodpecker pounding out a drum
solo, a series of nasally honks from a flock of Canadian geese, the wind
rattling the pine needles, and tiny insects whispering secrets from the wet
ground around me.

I turned
my face in Ethan’s direction and smelled the warm scent of his skin, felt where
his chest rested against my shoulder, heard his heart tap-dancing with mine. He
was different here, and it wasn’t just physical. His smile came easier. It
seemed that it always had been there, but something had hidden it from view,
like a dark cloud passing over the sun.

Suddenly,
his breath was near my lips. I froze, afraid to move, afraid to break the
spell. With his mouth next to mine, he whispered, “Can you guess where you are?
Can you guess your surprise?” When he lifted the blindfold, I squinted against
the glowing sun, or maybe it was Ethan’s pale, pale hue.
 

I paused
for a moment. It was an easy enough guess. Only because it was the sort of
thing I might have done—minus the blindfold.

I bit my
lip. “Is it an outdoor concert, maybe?”
   

To my delight,
he smiled. It lit up his face, made him seem more approachable. “Are you sure
you’ve never been blindfolded before? I think I’ve been duped.”

My mind
went blank. My face flushed before I had a chance to think of something funny
to say.
 

“I must
have overestimated my ability to surprise you. You should at least have to get
in two guesses before you get it right,” he said. “I’ll have to be more
creative next time.”

“I’m up
to the challenge,” I mumbled. But my heart had stopped on “next time.” He was
already planning for it.

I looked
around, and saw that I had been here before. Sort of. It seemed that Ethan had
taken some liberties with reality to improve upon perfection. Black,
ancient-looking boulders, nearly close enough to touch, graced the back of the
waterfall. A wide stream of water rushed across its peak. After falling about a
hundred feet, it collected into a rocky pool at the bottom before overflowing
noisily down the hill. It was an image straight out of a fairy tale—with trees
towering all around us and feathery ferns carpeting the ground in emerald
green. Now I knew why
Creesie
had made such a fuss at
the Station. She had wanted our date to be perfect.

And it
was.
  

“Hidden
Falls?” I asked, though I already knew the answer. “I used to hike these with
my family all the time. Some of the bigger ones, like Multnomah, have their
charms, but I like these the best. They’re quieter.” Secluded, I’d almost said.

“I found
this place a few months ago, shortly after I’d moved to Eugene. From the moment I saw you, I knew I’d
have to bring you here one day.” He laughed a little. “But then you went and
dream-stalked me and foiled my secret plan.”

“But you
don’t really believe that’s possible,” I reminded him.

“I’m
leaning in your direction,” he said, his body mimicking his words. I smiled as
he did it, hoping it was true. “Oh, I almost forgot . . .” He reached behind
him and placed a wicker picnic basket between his legs. “What good’s a concert
without terrible food?”

“Hot
dogs, giant pretzels, nachos?” I guessed, playing on the concert theme.

“Maybe
not that terrible,” he teased. “What kind of picnics have you been on?”

“None
like this,” I said.
None with you.
  

From the
basket, he retrieved cookies, strawberries, two bottles of water, and a pair of
cloth—as in real cloth—napkins. The gesture was so sweet that tears welled in
my eyes. It wasn’t how I would have normally reacted, if I were truly myself.
But here, my emotions were as exhausting as they were embarrassing. Kind of like
swimming naked against a riptide while your friends looked on. Turning to fake
a sneeze, I forced them away.

As I
munched on a cookie, I said, “I have a few questions. Do you mind?”

Lying on
his side, he looked up and studied my expression. “A few? You strike me as the
curious sort. Maybe a few . . . thousand?”

Inwardly,
I cringed. Ethan knew me all too well. Or maybe Brody had been doing some of
his usual spilling. For once, I didn’t mind the thought.