“Oh, no!” East really didn’t presume that the woman was there for him to love her. And he couldn’t quite believe he had just professed his love to a complete stranger—even though there was no doubt that he loved her. “I didn’t think you were!” he contended, defending himself.

“I’m here to pay my respects,” continued the woman. “To my husband.”

“Oh, no,” groaned East. He had just told a married woman that he loved her.

“Yeah. My husband. Wes. I’m here to say goodbye to him. ’Cause he died recently.”

“Oh, no.” East had just told a grieving widow that he loved her.

“Yeah. On Tuesday, actually.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” And that was all she wanted to say on the subject. Because she really didn’t want to get into it.

But something about East made her want to get into it.

So she did.

“And the northern lights—did you know this?—the northern lights are actually the torches that the recently departed carry with them so they can find their way home to heaven, according to the people who first lived here.” The woman knew this because she had been reading The Big Book of Who, What, Where, When, and Why with her story-time kids at the library. And one of the entries was about what the northern lights were—and where, when, why they appeared. “And, see,” she continued, “it takes a soul three days to make its way home to heaven, and Wes died on Tuesday night—three days ago—and I flew in to Presque Isle on Wednesday—in the morning—and then I hiked Wednesday and Thursday and today, until I found a spot that was dark enough … and that felt right. And when I got here today, well, it just felt right, and it’s so dark here, and—anyway—this is Friday! This is the third day, so, you see, I will see them—the northern lights—because they’re gonna be him. He’ll be carrying one of the torches.” The woman looked up and started scanning the sky. “And, see, I need them to be him, because I didn’t leave things well with him, so I was just hoping I could come here and say goodbye to him … but what you just said—just a second ago? That’s going to get in the way of me saying goodbye to him, I think, and so I think I’m just going to go find another place to do what I need to do.”

And the woman started making her way toward her tent so she could pack up and go, and, as she did, East protested. “No—wait! Please don’t do that. I’m sorry!” The thought of the woman leaving made East’s insides feel heavy and dark. And he realized that they had felt that way for a long time. And he didn’t want them to feel that way anymore, which made him desperate for the woman to stay, and he begged, “Please don’t go! I don’t really know what happened.”

“Well, I do. I know what happened,” retorted the woman sardonically.