PREFACE
Late December, eight years ago
The snow was falling steadily as we walked gingerly down the icy pavement toward our parked car. Mama had an iron grip on my bundled hand, while she firmly grasped my sister Sarah's hand in her other. Concentration on staying upright was foremost in all of our minds, and yet, we couldn't help but let little giggles escape as we temporarily lost our balance from time to time. It had truly been a wonderful evening, in spite of the weather bringing it to a premature end. My mother had driven Sarah and me into Forks, from our home in Beaver, Washington, about 20 miles away, so that we could watch the Rainforest Player's annual Christmas performance. This year it was A Christmas Carol, one of my favorites. What we didn't realize was that, at the same time that we were watching the fake snow compiling on the theater stage, outside the streets of Forks were beginning to look much the same.
As we walked, I glanced up at the darkened sky to watch the snowflakes swirl softly to the ground around us. I delighted in feeling the cold prickles on my skin as the tiny flakes dissolved on my upturned face. It added to the memories that I knew I'd take from this night. It felt as if we had walked into a snow globe - and having just watched the play, and knowing that Christmas was just days away, something felt almost magical in the air to me. Sooner than I thought, we found ourselves carefully turning onto the street that held our parked car. I wasn't looking forward to sitting on the cold leather seats as the car warmed up, but it was still better than staying out in the cold.
By the looks of it, two other small groups of people had reached their cars on this street as well. They laughed as they called goodbyes to one another - obviously two families who had come to town together for the evening. They were such a jovial group that I couldn't help but smile slightly as I listened to their playful banter. One of the men of their group noticed our family making slow progress toward our own car, and asked if we needed any help in scraping our car windows from the sheet of ice that now covered it.
"No thank you, Billy Black," my mother replied, wryly. "Knowing you, we'd be better off on our own." Her tone was thick with sarcasm.
The two groups took no time guffawing at my mother's retort. I hadn't recognized any of them as people we knew.
"Callie?" the man named Billy asked, when he had regained his breath.
"It's good to know that you haven't lost your memory entirely," my mother replied.
"I didn't recognize you under all the layers," he practically snorted. "Expectin' a blizzard, are ya? Can your girls breathe under all that?" He had a pleasant grin on his face, despite the ribbing he was giving back to Mama.
"It's called being prepared, something you wouldn't know much about. Speaking of girls, did you lose yours tonight?"
"Ouch, bro. You should bow out while you have some of your dignity left," the other man said, chuckling all the while. His family had climbed into their car, and he was listening to the exchange between my mother and Billy while he scraped his car windows clean of ice. The man named Billy, on the other hand, had stopped momentarily when he realized who my mother was – seemingly forgetting to unlock his truck doors for his family. His wife was merely smiling sheepishly, while their son curiously looked between my mother and his father.
"Twins had a sleepover," Billy finally responded, still grinning.
"Good to know they're not wandering the streets in this weather…not that you'd let that happen Jenny," my mother said. "It was good to see you and Jacob tonight, anyway." The woman, still smiling, gave my mother a slight wave.
"Merry Christmas," Billy finally conceded, holding up his hand briefly as a goodbye gesture – the grin still wide across his face.
"Merry Christmas to you," my mother said back. "The same to you and your family too, Harry."
The man named Harry waved and grinned at my mother from inside his car, having just climbed in and shut the door. Billy finally went about the business of unlocking his truck's doors. His wife quickly opened the passenger door, and tried to usher Jacob in, but he seemed to be resisting.
Once inside our car, Sarah and I settled in the back seat, while Mama went about clearing the covered windshield with her ice scraper. The car's leather seats were as cold as I had feared they might be – and I began huffing air onto the car window to draw shapes with my fingertip to pass the time. I had drawn a snowman, a bell, and had just finished a Christmas tree when the first feeling of warmth reached my legs. I erased the tree, making larger and larger circles on the now fogged window from the car's heater going at full blast. Through my newly cleared window, I saw the boy named Jacob still lingering outside of the Black's truck. Billy was clearing what looked like the last remnants of ice from the truck's windshield, and Jacob stood – not looking at Billy, but looking at me instead. His gaze surprised me, and my hand stopped in mid swipe on the car window as I peered back at him. Whether he misinterpreted my hand's position, or he thought that I had raised my hand to acknowledge him, he slowly raised his hand to mimic mine. We stayed locked in this awkward position, as if our hands rested on either side of a pane of glass – that was several feet thick rather than inches. His eyes had a hint of confusion from time to time, but still intent - like he didn't quite know why he was staring at me, but he was compelled to nonetheless. I felt the same mixture of confusion and wonder as I indulged my compulsion to stare back at him. We stayed locked in that exchange for what felt like an immeasurable amount of time - but in reality, I began to realize that it was a rather a short time before Mama had climbed into the driver's seat and was ready to begin the drive home.
"Sienna, sweetie, you need to turn around and buckle yourself in. The roads aren't safe tonight," my mother softly urged.
"Yes, Mama," I trailed off, realizing that my voice sounded far away and preoccupied.
"Mama, how did you know those people?" Sarah asked, tentatively.
"Just some old friends of mine," my mother responded. I vaguely thought that her voice sounded far away, just like mine did.
As our car began to move slowly onto the street, I watched as Billy came over to Jacob, giving him a light pat on the back. Jacob's mother was now waiting patiently in the truck cab, as her husband and son still lingered at the truck's rear bumper. For the moment, their glances still rested on our retreating car.
My attention shifted slightly as I heard Mama's stern voice asking me to sit and buckle my seatbelt again. I didn't want to tear myself away from the window, but I knew better than to ignore a second request from Mama - especially when she used that tone. I slowly turned around in my seat, and reluctantly removed my hand from the window to grab the dangling seatbelt next to me. After the task of securing the belt was out of the way, I wasted no time in careening my neck to look back at the Blacks. Billy was now urging Jacob into their waiting truck, just as my mother had urged me back to reality a few moments before. I knew that, unbelievably, I was feeling a reluctance to leave behind a boy that I had never met before – and it unsettled me. With a slightly helpless resolve, I continued to stare through my car window – now fogged slightly again – as Jacob slowly disappeared from my view.