“Oh, it does. Trust me. My Dad had one for most of my childhood.” He pauses for a moment. “I wondered if I’d ever see you again.”

She blinks at him. “I’m sorry?”

“Didn’t you come to a meeting last fall?”

“Not really. I kind of lost my nerve at the last minute.”

“I thought that was you. I was running the sign-in table that night. You’re the one that got away.”

“That’s where I know you from.” Her cheeks warm. “This is embarrassing.”

“Don’t worry about it. But I have to say, it’s never happened to me before, or since, come to think of it. Usually I’m able to draw them in with my big brown eyes.” He bats his lashes.

She can’t help but smile.

“You know, I almost ran after you that night.”

“You did?”

“I should warn you, I have a pretty substantial saviour complex to contend with, but I’ve been trying to tone it down. Anyway, if you wanted to leave, I figured you knew best. But I’ve looked for since then, hoping you’d come back someday. And here you are.”

“Here I am.”

“So, what changed your mind?”

She pauses. “I wasn’t sure what else to do.”

He nods, solemn for a moment. “I’m Hawthorn, by the way. But everyone calls me Hawk.”

“I’m Kavita.” After a brief pause, she says, “Why Hawk, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“It’s a nickname my twin, Sequoia, gave me. She always said I was a free spirit. I guess she pictured me soaring above the trees instead of being rooted in the ground.”

Kavita thinks of Sunil and his favourite spot at Champlain Lookout where he would watch the hawks ride the thermals.

He pushes up his right sleeve, turns out his inner forearm, and says, “I got this tattoo a few months after Sequoia took her life.”

Kavita’s stomach spasms, the way it does whenever she encounters suicide, as though her whole self is howling: No. She remembers to breathe and tries to smooth out her startled expression, as she gazes at the tattoo, admiring the interconnected teardrops of the yin/yang drawn in black ink.

“Sequoia was always more yin than me,” he goes on. “Quiet, private. I’m more yang, I guess. More of an extrovert. But we’re parts of the same whole, if that makes sense.”

“It’s a lovely tribute.” She swallows. “And I’m sorry about your sister.”

“You look uncomfortable. Did I shock you?”

“I just wasn’t expecting you to be so forthcoming. It isn’t an easy thing to talk about, especially with a stranger.”