Page 64 of Fragile Lives
“Where’s the wood?” I ask as I lean back onto his shoulder.
“On the side of the house.”
“You’re not going to get it?”
“I will.”
Even though his hold on me is gentle, his whole body is taut and rigid. So is his voice.
I turn to look at him. “Are you alright?”
His narrowed eyes are trained ahead of him. “Yes.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“Someone is watching us, Leila.”
It’s my turn to go rigid. I start looking around wildly, pushing myself into his frame and looking for assurance and safety, I guess. Because I do feel safe with him. Sheltered and reposeful. Along with the general overdrive my body goes into when he is close, I also feel content and…happy.
“Do you know who it is?” His voice is careful but probing. Like he feels the sudden shift in my mood.
I shake my head in refusal.
“Leila.” He’s more insistent.
“I don’t know who it is.” And I’m not even lying—I don’t know who’s been stalking me in town, if this person found me here. “Did you see someone?”
Stephan’s silent for a few moments before answering, “No. And no footprints either. At least not around the cabin.”
“Then what it is?” I look back at him.
“Just a feeling.”
Suddenly, a twig cracks somewhere in the forest, and Stephan instantly moves me so I’m standing behind him. His whole body is a sheet of steel.
Another twig snaps, and we both turn toward the sound.
A large figure appears from behind the thick pines. First—his antlers. Widespread and magnificent. Then his big head with his big dark nose. Then that whole beautiful body of his.
“Frank!” I cry out and try to move around him, but he pushes me back. “It’s okay, Stephan. It’s Frank.”
“Who’s Frank?”
“That is,” I point at the moose, “Frank.”
“The moose?” He turns to glance at me. His forehead wrinkles in confusion, and he looks positively adorable.
“Yes, Frank the Moose.”
“Hold on a minute.” He finally lets me go. “You know this moose? This particular moose?”
“Yes, everyone knows him. It’s Frank. He lives with Kayla.” I look back to Frank. “I will be back, Frank. Don’t go anywhere,” I call to him.
He snorts loudly, so I rush back inside, put my shoes and jacket on, and run back outside. Stephan stands on the porch, head tilted, watching as Frank watches him. The moose moves toward the cabin, and now only a few feet of deep snow separate us.
The moment I jump from the stairs, I sink into two whole feet of fluffy snow. Obviously, my boots are not equipped to deal with this, and my feet are instantly cold. But it’s not a big deal if I can pet Frank. He’s a special soul and shows up only at the most convenient, important moments. Some people have started calling him ‘the Little Hope angel,’ and I agree with them.
I walk to our guest, arm outstretched, letting him sniff me. When his wet nose touches my palm, he snorts and tilts his big head, letting me scratch his ears.
