“It sounded like you were throwing around the furniture,” he said. “Was it that man who left before who you were angry at? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

I felt a flush of embarrassment, followed by anger at being made to feel embarrassed, but then Bill leaned forward, took his cap off, and I could make out deep brown eyes the color of warm chocolate without a smidgen of judgment or censure in them, just concern.

“No, it wasn’t Duncan. It’s just I had a bad break-up a few months ago,” I said, not sure why I was confiding in Bill. “And I haven’t been able to … move on. So I thought I’d clean the house, so to speak.”

“Oh,” Bill said, his brown eyes looking thoughtful. “So you were angry because of how this ex-boyfriend treated you? Was he that bad?”

“He lied to me,” I told Bill, compelled to honesty by the concern – and pain – in his eyes. I was betting that Bill had a bad break-up in his history too. “And I was idiot enough to believe his lies. It’s hard to trust anyone after that – it’s hard to even trust myself.”

“You weren’t an idiot,” Bill asserted with surprising conviction. “Your ex-boyfriend was. He’d have to have been to hurt you like that.” He ducked his head back into the shadows, looking embarrassed, and put his baseball cap back on.

“It was a bit more complicated than that,” I said, smiling up at Bill. “But thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Any time,” he said. “If there’s anything else …”

“Just be careful up there, Bill. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

As I turned to go I heard Bill say, “You too. Be careful.”

*

I drove out of town, my fiery mood tempered by a few kind words from Bill. I’d left Brock’s iPod plugged into the sound system so I turned it on. Kate Bush’s voice filled the car, singing about something trapped beneath the ice. I’d always found the song haunting, but now it made me think of Brock’s spirit struggling through the icy fogs of Niflheim. I hoped that today’s circle would finally release him.