Page 2 of Saving Sparrow
Bracing against the screeching wind and blinding snow, I started the uphill hike to the spiked gates surrounding the old mansion. Apprehension worked its way into my already chilled bones the closer I drew, making me feel like I was freezing from the inside out. Something wasn’t right with this home. For every unseen force urging me forward, just as many warned me to stay the heck back. I kept trudging on because my love overrode my fear.
Out of breath and experiencing early symptoms of frostbite, I didn’t hesitate before pressing the buzzer at the gate. I needed to get inside before the swelling in my hands got worse. My gloves were getting tighter around them.
A sliver of light shone dimly from a second-floor window slated between two decrepit pillars. I squinted, trying to make out the tall shadowyfigure who parted the sheer curtain and peered into the night. My shallow breathing picked up pace, my breaths forming clouds in front of me. Would he let me in? Did he know it was… me?
I removed my snow-speckled frames, using the cuff of my coat sleeve to wipe them off. He was gone by the time I slid them back on. I grabbed onto the iron pickets, desperate enough to try slipping between them. I was about to attempt it when I noticed the small camera lens hiding within the intercom system. I did my best to calm down, to appear like nothing more than a man stranded during one of Alaska’s worst snowstorms on record.
I pressed the buzzer again, then tucked my hands under my arms. The shivering wasn’t exaggerated. If he didn’t let me in soon, I’d lose all sensation in my body. With the engine unable to start now, I wouldn’t even have the heat in the truck’s cabin to keep me warm.
Through the whistling wind, the faint sound of someone breathing came through the speaker. So faint, I had to hold my own breath and lean in close to hear it.
“Hello?” I called after an excruciating few seconds of silence. He didn’t answer, but I knew he was there. “I, um, was on my way to visit family when my rental broke down. I’ve lost all signal due to the storm, so I can’t call a tow truck. I was wondering if I could use your landline?” There was a chance he could offer to call a tow truck for me while I waited here, but I doubted anyone was coming out to the middle of nowhere in these conditions. I was the only idiot on the road.
If he asked for the phone number of my relative, I’d give him Amelia’s number. She wouldn’t answer. She’d take one look at the area code and run in the other direction.
“Hello?” I inched closer to the speaker. “I—”
“Who are you, and why are you here?”
That voice didn’t belong to my husband. It wasn’t the modest, sweet cadence that haunted my dreams. This man sounded hard, emotionless, impatient. It took everything in me not to break down in tears. I had to remember he was watching me.
“My name’s Adam, and I told you—”
“No one mistakenly finds this property. If you’re here, it’s because you intended to be.”
Amelia mentioned that. She said he’d never go for my excuse because this place was built with privacy in mind.
“It’s the perfect place to keep secrets hidden from prying eyes.”
No one just bumped into it. Not unless…
“I thought I saw a shortcut. A way to beat the worst of the storm. There was a path through the woods off Hand Groves Road. The snow hadn’t accumulated too much. I’m normally good with direction, so I figured I could cut through the tree tunnels that way, save myself some time. Avoid getting stranded. Ironic now, I know. The path spit me out on Dillinger Creek; from there I followed the narrow trail, hoping I’d find the main road again. It was stupid of me.”
His breathing grew louder and heavier, and I fought to keep my face free of anguish. “I can’t help you—”
“Please.It’s cold. I won’t make it on foot. I’ll die out here. Just one call. You can check my bag, pat me down if you want. I won’t hurt you,” I whispered.
I could feel him slipping away, could feel the distrust through the gates, doors, and windows that separated us. I must have looked threatening to him, my goose-feathered coat adding bulk to my frame.
I held my license up to the camera. “Here’s my full name and address. My aunt has been trying to get me to visit for years. I tend to avoid the cold and the dark,” I said, standing here surrounded by both. “It’s the combination of the two that I hate. It’s warm year-round, for the most part, where I’m from. I finally gave in, and this is what happens to me.” I let out an awkward chuckle.
A sharp gust of wind knocked my hood back, nearly ripping my glasses off my face. The cold bit into the bruise along my jaw, the sting reminding me it was there.
“He’s a protector,”Amelia had said.
I angled that side of my face toward the camera lens.“Please.”
After minutes of silence, I began looking around for a good place to sit and freeze to death. The snow had reached my shins, and I’d just started attempting to walk in the direction I came from when the gates groaned open. I spun around so fast I almost lost my balance. I hurried through the opening before he could change his mind.
I took my time climbing the circular drive, afraid that once I laid eyes on him, I wouldn’t be able to keep up the charade. I’d had to survive months without his smile, without his touch, without the tender way he loved. How could I possibly pretend not to be broken when finally faced with him?
The front door opened as I cleared the last step onto the porch. The young, androgynous man glaring at me held none of the softness my husband did. This man’s pale blue eyes were cold, making the blizzard at my back feel like the tropics. His clothing was colorless and rigid, the shirt buttoned up to the column of his slender neck, the shoulders complete with epaulets. Nothing like the silks and chiffon the love of my life once wore.
His copper-toned hair still complemented his fair but rosy complexion. But the thick strands were woven into a single, severe braid instead of cascading down his back in waves.
The wind blew wisps of it loose around his face as he peered over my shoulder into the storm. His gaze narrowed as if searching the night for proof of my lies. The temperature didn’t seem to bother him. Maybe because he was equally frigid.
“I’m alone,” I said, once I found my voice. He turned his hard stare on me, the light that used to shine behind it replaced by something dangerous. My husband wouldn’t have harmed a fly. This man seemed capable of cruelty.
