Page 1 of Somewhere Between Falling

Chapter One

It started with a green balloon.

I was sitting on a wooden park bench, clasping a to-go cup of coffee in my gloved hands. It was still too hot to drink, so I just sat there watching the steam mixing with my own breath. It smelled like snow, and I found myself staring up into the sky waiting for the first flakes to fall and change the color of the world.

I never figured out where the balloon came from. Probably a small child lost hold of the string and was in tears over losing his new toy. It floated up through the bare trees, catching just at the top of the branches. I watched the wind tug and pull on that green balloon until, finally, it made its second escape of the day. I continued watching it rise higher and higher in the early morning sky until it was no more than a pinprick in the distance.

At that moment, though it sounds crazy, I found myself envying that balloon.

I lowered my gaze to my still steaming cup of coffee and dared a small sip, letting the warm liquid slide down my throat. I opened the book I brought to keep me company and then I waited some more.

It seemed I was always waiting for him.

A stranger sat down on the bench beside me. It wasn’t unusual. After all, it was a public park. Usually, it was little old ladies who had come to feed the birds or knit a sweater. Sometimes it was a graying man taking a break from walking his yappy little dog to read the paper. Other times it was a young mother just needing a spot to rest after chasing her wildly rambunctious toddler, but today it was a guy with a book and a cup of coffee as well. He appeared to be about my age, maybe a year or two older, but, of course, looks can be deceiving and he very well could have been middle-aged. Wasn’t that a thing? Men growing older more gracefully than women? He had a mess of dark hair, and he obviously hadn’t shaved in at least a day or two. But I had always liked a bit of scruff, so I wasn’t put off by it. How funny that we both chose the same bench with our twin to-go cups and hardbound books today.

He caught me staring at him, so I quickly averted my eyes back to the open book on my lap.

“Harry Potter?” he asked.

“Excuse me?”

“Are you reading Harry Potter?” he asked again, smiling crookedly at me. Definitely not middle-aged, I thought.

“Um, no. It’s Henry James.” I narrowed my eyes.

“Ah, close.” He chuckled quietly, and I couldn’t help but smile at the sound of it.

I checked my watch.

He was now thirty minutes late.

I wondered why I kept doing this to myself. Why I thought he was worth waiting for when he obviously didn’t consider me important enough to ever show up on time was completely beyond me.

“There’s a hole-in-the-wall bookstore a few blocks south from here. I always find my best treasures there. Once I found a first-edition copy of Leaves of Grass.”

“Oh captain, my captain,” I murmured.

“You know Walt Whitman?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Who doesn’t?”

“Who indeed,” he said with a pleased smile.

“I’ll have to check it out some time,” I said, taking a sip of my coffee and realizing it was now too cold to drink. Funny how quickly that can happen.

“I could show you now if you’d like,” he offered.

My first instinct was to say no, but I stopped and found myself considering it instead. It was a strange invitation, seeing as we didn’t know each other, but for some reason, the idea of leaving with this perfect stranger wasn’t all that unappealing. I couldn’t help but wonder if the only reason I felt comfortable talking to this man was that he was attractive. If he was a dirty, toothless old man covered in grime and bearing the distinct stench of alcohol and cigarette smoke, would I be as willing to consider his invitation? Of course not.

“So how about it?” he asked again, and I realized I hesitated too long.

I was supposed to meet him thirty minutes ago, but it wasn’t unusual for him to be late. He showed up when he showed up. But a part of me wondered, How would he react if he discovered that I wasn’t waiting for him like always? Would he worry about me? I could find out. All I had to do was say okay.

“Okay,” I answered simply, standing up. I tossed my cup in the nearby trashcan and looked up at this stranger who stood beside me. “Lead the way, sir.”

I knew then that this might be a huge mistake—in fact, the thought crossed my mind that perhaps this would be the last mistake that I’d ever make, but it was infinitely better than sitting on this park bench waiting for someone who might decide not to show up.

“I guess I should introduce myself. I’m Tamsin,” I told him, holding out my hand.

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