October.
Chill winds had begun, and the leaves falling from the tree in the backyard made spectacular dive after spectacular dive, covering yet more of its compatriots as they lay on the ground, a silent requiem for summer. The sun shone mellow and as it peeked into the quiet house it threw shadows across the room, flashed gold on a young woman's blonde hair, glinted on the diamond on her finger.
Oblivious to the display, the young woman sat on the small couch overlooking the backyard, her eyes glued to the ring. Her fiancé had given it to her last month, and even now it felt new, foreign, on her hand. Perhaps it was the novelty of it all, or perhaps it was the idea that she would be someone's wife in a few weeks' time? Maybe.
Maybe.
A soft knock on her door broke her reverie. "Shawn?"
She moved away from the couch, walking slowly over to the door to open it. It was her mother, and she was smiling at her daughter like she hadn't smiled for the past month. Shawn frowned. "Mama?"
Her mother's smile widened. "Sweetie, someone is here to see you."
Shawn sighed. "Is it … Ryan, mama? I don't want to see him right now. I'm not really up to tasting cakes or looking at reception menu designs."
"No," her mother said slowly. "It's definitely not your fiancé." She reached out to caress Shawn's face tenderly, her smile softening, before turning to go. "But I think you may want to go out and see. In the backyard."
Shawn watched her mother's departing back as she went down the stairs and into the kitchen, puzzled. Who could it be? Brow furrowed in thought, she turned towards her closet to take one of her wool cardigans out, shrugged it on, then followed downstairs. Who could this be?
Why wouldn't her mother tell her?
She was at the glass door that opened to the backyard when she finally caught a glimpse of him, seated on the hammock that she once had played on as a girl. His back was turned away from her but the waning sun turned his blonde hair into a fiery blaze and shadowed his lean form – a figure she had gotten used to for weeks, and one she had missed for months after, more than she cared to admit.
At the sound of the door opening he turned to look at her.
He had not aged a day, Shawn thought, irrationally.
"Shawn," he said.
His smile was exactly what she remembered, his hair falling across his forehead, partially obscuring his eyes. He walked towards her, his shoes crunching the fallen leaves, his gaze intent.
"Derek," she whispered, by way of greeting.
He stood before her and now she could not see anything beyond his face, his smile. He smelled of aftershave and he smelled of memories, and Shawn felt overwhelmed – not only by his presence, but by everything that had come and gone.
"I heard," he said shortly.
Looking up into his eyes, Shawn knew exactly what he meant. "Yes."
He sighed, then pushed his fists into his jacket, shrugging his shoulders. He looked around. "Des Moines is beautiful this time of year."
"Yes," she said again, at a loss for what to say.
When he turned towards her, he was grinning, an impish sort of grin – the kind of grin that said, let's break the rules, and let's have fun while doing it, and Shawn had to smile back. It was so familiar, and so … him.
"Let's go for a walk," he said.
Shawn hesitated, unsure. She was, after all, about to be married, and it wouldn't do to be seen in another man's company. Instinctively she looked back at the house and, true enough, she saw her mother standing in the doorway, smiling at them. She raised her hand in greeting, then changed it to a sweeping motion: go, go, just go, she said.
So Shawn nodded. "Okay."
In complete silence they made their way out of the backyard and onto the road, heading down towards the more shaded, tree-lined paths leading away from the town. The leaves crunched, the sun waxed and waned, and their breaths misted slightly, but it was a companionable silence, and Shawn didn't want to disturb the quiet magic of the strange afternoon.
They turned a bend and the house disappeared from behind them.
"You never came back to LA," Derek said, his voice quiet.
"I never had any real reason to," she answered.
The occasional bird trill called out through the afternoon, but otherwise they simply walked, the path completely empty and silent.
"Don't you want to know why I'm here?" he asked.
"I do," Shawn answered.
She realized that he had stopped and was now standing, stock still, about five paces away from her. She turned back, and the dimming afternoon light cast him almost completely in shadow, so that she could see neither his eyes nor his face.
She stood where she was and waited.
"It's because I love you," he said, finally.
Shawn watched the leaves under her feet, and shook her head. "I'm an engaged woman now, Derek," she said.
"I know," he said, with a sigh. "Walk with me?"
Shawn closed her eyes against the dying flare of the setting sun. Fire, she thought to herself. Playing with fire.
"No," she said, opening her eyes. "I think … no more. I'm going home. I'm an engaged woman and I shouldn't be walking out with you." She looked at him, and realized that in the space of time that she had spoken, he had come nearer and was now standing right in front of her. "I'm going home."
He reached out and caught her elbow, even as she was about to turn away. "No, please," he said. "Please. Walk with me some more."
She watched him, his face that had always managed to look like a hurt puppy and a mischievous boy at the same time, and knew she could not refuse. "Fine. But I will say when we stop."
"Yes," he acceded.
They started walking again, and the silence was no longer companionable: it was tense, like something waiting to snap. The afternoon sun began to slip downwards in the sky, throwing long shadows.
"Don't you love me, too?" he asked.
"No," Shawn said.
"No?" he asked, once again stopping.
"No," she repeated, this time coming to a halt with him.
"Are you sure?" he asked, watching her face.
"Sure I'm sure," she said, but for some reason she could not look at him directly. "A woman ought to know these things. You can see it in my eyes. I don't love you."
But when Derek brought a hand to her face to tilt it up, she looked into his eyes, and she knew that her own betrayed her completely. She saw his blue eyes darken as he leaned down, closed the gap between them, and kissed her, long and tender.
When the kiss ended, Shawn took one step away from him, shaking her head to clear it. "Stop that," she said, flushing.
"But your eyes told me a completely different thing," he said.
"I'm engaged, Derek," she said, furious now. "I don't know if that means anything to you or to the world you've allowed yourself to get into, but it means more here. It's a promise we keep." She turned around, fully intending to go back. "This conversation is over. I'm going back."
But he reached out, and once again, somehow, he was kissing her. Her brain felt like it was being turned into jelly; her legs wanted to give way. In a supreme effort of will, she pushed him away slightly. "I said, stop that."
He looked at her and sighed. "Okay."
Shawn turned away, taking one step going back, but within seconds she realized that the path they had taken was now too dark. They would have to keep walking forward, on towards the end and exit onto the main road, towards the town's small church. She looked at Derek in consternation, and then, for her own sanity, pushed him away farther, at arm's length. "Alright. It looks like I have no choice but to walk with you some more. But I'll have no more of you kissing me, you hear me?"
Derek smiled, but it was a sad sort of smile. "Okay. I will respect your wishes."
Shawn began walking, briskly this time, aware that as fast as she may have walked, Derek's longer legs could still keep pace with her easily. Resolutely she avoided looking at him, her eyes seeking the end of the path and the welcoming light of the church around the bend, trying to put distance.
After a few minutes, aided by the speed in which they walked, they reached the small chapel. It was, sure enough, lit; it looked so warm and welcoming that Shawn made a beeline for the door, eager to be near a light and farther away from Derek. Although uninvited, he entered the chapel with her, seemingly having no other plans but to stick to her as near as possible, so she continued to pretend that he wasn't there. She went to one of the pews, purposefully sitting at the end so that he could not sit beside her.
Without a word, he took the seat across the aisle, a mere handspan from her.
Shawn sighed. The chapel was small – perhaps seating about twenty – but the altar was beautiful. Right now it was bare except for the cross, and in the soft candlelight the walls turned buttery yellow, and the raised platform like a stage – and memory assaulted her, like a physical blow – another time, another place, the same man ... how strange fate is, sometimes!
"I dropped everything, you know," Derek began again, his voice quiet. "When I heard."
She turned to him, cocking an eyebrow. "Five years, Derek. That's how long it took for you to drop everything and come." She shook her head. "I don't know what you were expecting, after all those years."
"I don't know, either," he admitted, blowing air through pursed lips, not meeting her eyes and staring straight ahead. "But all I know is that I love you, and that I couldn't let you get married without letting you know."
"And you had to wait?" she asked, turning back to face the altar.
"Yes," he said shortly. "I had to."
Shawn nodded, and against her will, she understood what he meant. The life he had chosen to live after they parted ways was one that allowed for no other mistress; she knew that, had they tried to make anything work, they would have been destroyed, beyond repair. And had they gone through that, would she be what she was now, or would she have been a totally different person?
She had no idea. All she knew was she liked who she was now, and she had no intention of changing herself.
"Are you thinking of him?" Derek's voice cut through her reverie.
"Of who?" she asked.
"Your fiancé. Do you love him?"
"Of course I love him," she said, hotly. "I wouldn't be marrying him if I didn't."
"Right," he said.
"Of course," she said again, her voice wavering, and even then she heard her own indecision. She tried again. "Of course."
Derek said nothing in response, but simply turned towards her, an expression of such intensity on his face that Shawn shivered involuntarily. The silence of the church was now no longer comforting; it was oppressive, crowding all around her. She stood up suddenly, resolute.
"Well, it's late, and it was … nice seeing you again, Derek," she said.
He stood along with her on the aisle. "Yes. It was," he replied.
"I …" Shawn began, and she realized she had nothing else, really, to say.
Derek nodded, as if he understood what she said, even if no words came out of her lips. He looked away, towards the altar, then back at her. He took her hand. "Marry me, Shawn," he said.
Shawn bit her lip to keep them from trembling. "No," she answered finally.
He nodded, again, once. He dropped her hand gently and cupped her face, tracing one finger along her jaw, and Shawn felt skitters of electricity follow the path he took. Then he placed his thumb on her lips, his rough skin caressing, as if he was trying to memorize how it was like.
Against her will, Shawn's eyes fluttered closed.
She felt a swift kiss on her forehead, and a whisper, no more than a breath: "I love you."
Another time, another place, the same man.
By the time she opened her eyes, Derek had reached the church door, walking in that slow, graceful way that marked him as a dancer. In silence, she watched him walk away, and suddenly she knew that if he turned around and called her name, she would go to him, go to him and follow him wherever he may choose to walk. She would have no more choice.
At the door Derek stopped and turned to look back at her.
"Shawn," he called.
And, like a moth drawn to a flame, Shawn ran to him, put her arms around him, and protested no more.