She is still as a fence post. It almost seems like she’s holding her breath.

“You know, I would lie for the fun of it,” I whisper, “even when there was nothing in it. Just because. I don’t even know why. What’s wrong with a person who lies for no reason?”

I don’t realize she is crying until I hear her try to stifle a sob, like a hiccup. She moves closer but we’re still not touching, and we remain there for a time, watching the two people down on the plain. We cry together. She sighs a trembling sigh, and when she speaks I can tell she is trying to lift our spirits.

“The rumor coming back from the front is that the higher you go, the warmer it gets.”

“Then we should keep walking,” I say, but I don’t move. A great silence falls on us as the last people pass by behind us. He is not among them. I knew he wouldn’t be, was positive of this after seeing the two far-off figures walking away, but I had still allowed myself to hope.

“There they go.” She steps away, as if she can’t stay too close or she’ll give in to old impulses like hugging me or pulling me close. “He saved all of us,” she says, and I can hear the tears in her voice. “And now he’s going back.”

I nod again, the tears flowing. I wipe them away hastily with the back of my hand. They’re embarrassing, those tears. They make me feel small.

“Dan,” she says. “It’s time. He’ll find her, and he’ll follow us over.”

I look over at her for the first time since she came up behind me. “Will he? Will he find her? Will he find us?”

She doesn’t answer.

“Will he find me?” I ask, my voice tiny and quivering.

Wordlessly, we climb down the rock and turn toward the top of this new mountain, this fresh start, this beginning. We can see the tail end of the procession of people moving up the trail. We will soon be back among them, or maybe we’ll stay back a bit, find our own pace.

“I wonder,” I say quietly.

“Wonder?” she asks, falling into step beside me. I want to take her hand again, but those days are long gone. “Wonder what?”

My response is a whisper. I can’t imagine she even hears me. “Can he really cross from there to us? Or is he lost? Forever?”

The breeze snatches my words and throws them out into the void, but she hears them. And she smiles. “He’ll find us.”

So childlike. So trusting. I want to question her. I want to raise my flag of doubt, but before I can, she says it again.

“He’ll find us.”

Acknowledgments

I’m incredibly thankful to God for this unexpected writing journey. It wouldn’t be possible without those of you who faithfully read my blog in the early years or those of you who continue reading these books that stumble into the world. Thanks so much to all of you readers out there for hanging with me.