Reunited

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. When she saw it, she grinned, her heart racing. Despite the darkness and uneven ground, she sprinted toward the small home. She only tripped once, on an unearthed tree root. She stood and wiped her dirty hands on her jeans. A little fall wouldn’t stop her. Not now, after all this time.

She walked more calmly toward the door, which was not ajar as she had suspected it would be. Locked. But how did he get inside to light the candle?

Determined to get inside – to get to him – she felt her way around the sides of the house as she headed toward the back. Surely, he had used that door to get in and light up their signal.

Her palms clammy, face flushed, she stood at the back door and took a deep breath. This was it – the moment she had waited for since they had said their goodbyes after high school. They had laid in the front room of this same abandoned cabin, intertwined on a blanket, summer sun shining through the open windows, and made the promise. Though they were going their separate ways, they would return one day. They would find each other.

And so, since her arrival back in her small hometown last year, she had jogged to the cabin every day, waiting for the signal. For three hundred and fifty-two days, she had crossed the meadow, waded in the stream, and fought with overgrown plants to catch a glimpse of a candle. For three hundred and fifty-one days, she had left disappointed.

As she let out the breath, she focused on herself. Smoothed her shirt, fluffed her hair, twisted the promise ring on her left hand. When she was satisfied, she grasped the doorknob and pulled.

But the door didn’t budge.

Tears formed and threatened to spill. Why would he light the candle and then not let her inside? It had to mean something, but she didn’t know what.

She wiped at her eyes with both hands. Somewhere nearby, an owl hooted. She jumped and then laughed at herself. It was just a bird. She was perfectly safe, despite the darkness. Still, she turned toward the tree-line, apprehensive.

The soft creak alerted her to the door’s opening. She spun around, expecting to face him. After all these years, what would he look like? How would he receive her?

But no one greeted her. The room was black, the light emitting from the lone candle in the front window not strong enough to assist her this far away.

“Hello?” She stepped inside, certain he would jump out and surprise her. She hoped he would wrap her in his arms the way he had that final day years ago.

But there was no response.

She called again, stepping further into the room.

The door slammed behind her, and she screamed, whirling around to face him.

But again, she was alone.

She shuddered in the darkness. Why was he toying with her? Didn’t he understand how badly she needed to see him, and need her just the same?

“Of course I do,” a deep voice whispered. The sound came from nowhere and everywhere.

“Where are you?” she asked, her voice quivering. She shivered, unsure if she was cold or afraid. Perhaps both.

“I’m here.”

A tingle ran up her arm, a lover’s caress. But he wasn’t there.

“Where?”

Another door slammed, somewhere down the hall. She turned toward the sound, but still could not see.

In the other room, the candle created a bright halo against the window and the darkness surrounding it. But it was too far away to be of any use. Of all the days to have left her phone without battery. Then again, she didn’t need to see him to feel his touch, hear his voice, experience his love. She just had to find him first.

“It’s me, love. Don’t be afraid,” the voice said, the words echoing off the bare walls. It was deeper than she remembered; then again, she hadn’t heard him speak in a what felt like an eternity.

“I just want to see you,” she replied, spinning slowly.

Another whisper. “Close your eyes.”

She did. In her mind, she saw him as he was before – tall and tan, lean and muscular. A crooked grin and twinkling eyes.

The picture in her mind contorted, no longer a handsome young man with a promising future – she saw a scarred, weary visage with haunted eyes and a down-turned mouth. Was this him, now?

“Time changes people.” He paused. “I’ve missed you.”

Arms wrapped around her from behind. She leaned into him, disappointed to feel nothing but the grain of the wooden wall. Cold fear snaked down her spine and her eyes snapped open. “What’s going on?”

“I came back for you,” his voice whispered in her ear. “But you can’t be here.”

She spun again, full circle. “This isn’t funny. I’ve waited for you for years. I want to see you.”

“And I’ve waited a lifetime.” His voice was sad, distant.

She didn’t have time to ponder the strange statement.

Footsteps stomped toward her, the floorboards whining with each heavy step. Across the cabin, the flame flickered, its dance momentarily stopping.

Her eyes were on the candle when her arms were held to her sides. Roughly, not lovingly. “What are you doing? You’re hurting me.”

She received no verbal response. Instead, her feet lifted until she was above the floor, dangling by an imaginary thread. Before she could react, she was thrown against the wall behind her. More heavy footsteps. Hot breath in her face. Pressure against her throat, pinning her head to the wall.

She whimpered, the only sound she could seem to make. That voice was his, but she knew he wasn’t the one hurting her. He couldn’t. But what was it he had said – time changes people? Could this be him, changed by his experiences since she’d last seen him?

“Please,” the deep voice begged. She couldn’t tell where it came from, but it wasn’t directly in front of her.

The grip on her throat loosened, and she slid to a heap on the floor.

“Run,” the voice said. She knew it was his, even though she couldn’t see him. It seemed he was trying to keep her from meeting the same fate he had.

But the door wouldn’t budge, no matter how much she jiggled the knob. And the window wouldn’t break, in spite of how hard she threw the chair against it. She was stuck.

She knew this house instinctively, despite not having been inside for years. They had borrowed its sanctuary many times in their youth, and she was sure she could remember the nooks and crannies, corners and steps, despite the darkness. So she ran.

Down the hallway, only bumping into the wall once. Through an open door – the master bedroom. It was bare, as it had been all those years ago, when they would spread a blanket against the wall and pretended it was their bedroom, together. A tear trickled down her cheek at the memory. It would never become a reality, regardless of how long she had waited for him. They would never share a bed, a home, a family.

“I wanted those things, too,” the voice said, not quite a whisper. “I’m sorry I can’t give them to you.”

“But why?” she asked, tears spilling. She turned, trying to catch a glimpse of him, but she knew she wouldn’t.

“I came back for you. I lit the candle. But I wasn’t alone.”

Her chest ached, and the back of her head hurt where it had hit the wall. She rubbed the knot forming there while contemplating his words. Realization set in. “Where are you?” The words were slow and deliberate.

The bedroom door moved with a squeak. “This way.” Footsteps, light and airy, sounded against the bare floor.

She followed.

The candle burned bright, lambent light as she passed the window where it sat. She passed the front door, passed the fireplace, passed the next window. And then she found him.

The same haunted eyes she had seen in her mind stared back at her lifelessly. She ran a hand over the scar on his cheek, noticing the coolness of his skin against hers.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. What else could she say?

“I know.”

She kneeled beside his body, memorizing the new wrinkles around his eyes, the hairline that was slightly higher than it used to be. The face she could have loved forever, if she had only arrived sooner. She studied him until her feet cramped, and then she stood and straightened the hem of her shirt. “I’ll make sure you have a proper goodbye,” she said through her tears.

Heavy footsteps started in the hallway, heading toward the kitchen. The air thickened. The candlelight dimmed.

“I don’t think you will,” her lover said, his voice resonating off the bare walls. “I’m sorry.”

The footsteps closed in on her, and soon she could feel the stranger’s hot breath in her face. She knew it was a trick meant to intimidate her, since ghosts couldn’t breathe, but it worked.

She shirked back, stumbling over the body on the ground. As the hateful being began to growl, she instinctively reached for her lover’s hand.

The pain was incredible. She had always wondered if it would hurt to die, and now she knew. When it was over, she hovered above her body, its limp hand grasping onto his. She would never swim in the ocean again, or tell her mother she loved her. She would never create a family of her own.

She glanced up from watching herself, her eyes meeting his for the first time in years. She could see him. When he reached for her hand, she realized she could touch him.

His gaze was full of sorrow and regret. “I wouldn’t have lit the candle if I had known. I tried to blow it out once I realized I wasn’t alone, but I couldn’t.”

She squeezed his ghostly hand. She would never do any of those things again, but she would be with him until the end of time.

Footsteps receded away from them. The candle faded further as he pulled her into an embrace. “I love you,” he whispered in that deep voice she had grown familiar with.

“I love you,” she responded as the candle burned out.