Even with her daughter at her side, talking endlessly in the way that children do, she could still feel the ghost of his touch along the lines of her palm, the lingering sensation of his lips brushing against her brow. So many years, and her body had not forgotten what it was like to be this close to him, her blood quickening with need and memory.

Had she really been so swift to reach for him, her hand so easily enfolding itself into his?

He looked a little older, maybe, the loose boyishness settling itself into something more weathered and solid. His hair was a bit longer, freely falling across his shoulders rather than partially tied back the way it used to be. And in some acknowledgement of the cooler weather, he was wearing an olive-colored shirt with actual sleeves, pushed back to the elbow, displaying a new pair of spindly tattoos along his forearms. But there was no mistake: she would know him anywhere. If she were blindfolded, in a darkened room, she would know him.

Seeing him again, it was like coming back to a home you had only seen in dreams. A part of you ached for it to be real – if only so you could stay there, safe and protected, forever – even as you held back, for fear that it would vanish just as quickly as it had appeared.

They made their way back to his truck, a measured quiet falling over the two of them, as if they meant to balance the outpouring of sentiment they had shared at the park, the rawness now tempered with caution and hesitancy. Lena was still a boundless source of energy, however, even after all her time on the jungle gym, and Sally Ann struggled to keep her child's hand firmly grasped within her own. But there was also the compulsion to turn her gaze up towards him, one nearly impossible to ignore, and through those stolen glimpses, she watched his attention start to focus steadily on their child, his eyes softening with joy and wonderment, the corner of his mouth curling up unconsciously. She was struck by the image she suddenly had of the three of them walking together down the sidewalk, as if they were a real family, and god, it was so beautiful, so tempting. It made her want to cry again, made her want to stop and pour out eight years of loneliness and fear and love and longing right here onto the concrete. But instead, she gripped Lena's hand a little tighter, and turned her unfocused gaze towards a spot twenty yards up ahead.

What would happen at this point was unclear to her, his offer to come down and spend time with them and perhaps even take them up the mountain notwithstanding. But soon enough, he would have to leave them and go home, and she realized she wasn't ready to say goodbye quite yet. There was also a part of her that wondered what he actually had been planning for the rest of his day, before she had appeared with no warning to give him the surprise to end all surprises.

"Tell me the truth… you had somewhere else to be, didn't you?" she asked as they approached the truck, still parked diagonally in front of the small office building.

He looked away and grinned in that way she remembered, that way she had fallen in love with, at turns bashful and mischievous, innocent and inviting.

"S'pposed ta go pick up som' things 'fore I head back," he said, shrugging his shoulder.

"Where?"

"Th' home supply store," he answered. "Th' one down 'round by th' bridge."

"Wait, where I used to work?" she asked. She couldn't believe it; of all the places he had been headed, it had to be thatstore, the one where they had first met, where he had waited for her after her shift, for god knows how long, all in the hope of talking to her again.

He nodded, and then his face lit up again, as if an idea had just flashed into his mind.

"Y'all wan' ta come wit' me? Unless ya got som'where else ta be…" he added, raising his eyebrows as he repeated her earlier phrasing.

"Sure," she said, an unbidden smile finding its way onto her lips. It was becoming too much again, looking at him like this, everything about him pulling her back to a different time, when they were younger and things had seemed so much simpler. She glanced down at Lena, her fingers lightly running over the top of her daughter's curls. "Be good to see what it looks like after all this time."

And, honestly, at this moment, she had nowhere else to be, no one else she'd rather be with.

With the flash of a smile, Hasil jogged ahead of her so he could throw open the passenger door, watching as Lena scrambled up onto the bench seat and Sally Ann quickly followed. He gently swung the door closed, eight fingers curling over the top of the window frame.

It was the middle of the day, so the streets were fairly quiet, but Sally Ann found her attention being pulled in so many different directions. There was the view passing by outside the windows: the same houses and storefronts she remembered, some now closed and shuttered, all testifying to the harsh fact that life had never really returned to Blackburg. And of course she would always be aware of her daughter, now buckled in by her side. When they first got in the truck, Sally Ann had wondered how Lena might react to being in this strange vehicle, to the growls of its unmuffled engine, but she seemed completely content, her eyes wide with interest as she took in all the new things going on around her. Finally, there was the man in the truck with them, whose presence she couldn't have ignored had she even wanted to. At one of the town's four stoplights, he brought the truck to a halt, his eyes shifting towards her and their gazes momentarily catching, a tiny, silent exchange that still managed to burn tight and hot in the middle of her chest. Her mind was briefly fogged with half-lost memories, more sensation than anything else: the sound of their shared laughter, the wispy scratch of his mustache against her skin, his pale and callused fingers gently circling and then tracing up her thigh. She looked away and unconsciously pressed the side of her hand up against her breastbone, half-expecting to be met with soft licks of flame.

And just like that, they were there, the truck turning into the parking lot, the old familiar building coming sharply into view. Sally Ann was astonished by how little it had changed; they had never bothered to replace the cracked plastic letter in the middle of the store's name, the lawn furniture still in stacks by the entrance. And even as the three of them made their way inside, it almost felt like she had never left at all, like she should be heading off to the break room to drop off her purse and put on her apron and name tag. She couldn't imagine anyone would remember her – it had been so long – but still she looked around at the cashiers, wondering if there was she knew. But they were all strangers, not a familiar face in sight.

They made their way down the aisles, Lena's small hand curled warm in hers, but as she found that her eyes were continually drawn towards him, so often catching him looking right back at her.

The strangest part, though, was how normal it all seemed. He was a Farrell, walking around a store with a shopping basket in his hand like any other customer, like who he was didn't matter at all, and no one was doing a thing. Maybe things were different, like he had said, maybe the war between mountain and town had ended on that day she left. Maybe there was hope that other things could be different, too.

They were in the gardening aisle, Hasil grabbing a pair of black and orange shears off the rack, when she felt a slight tug on her arm. Sally Ann looked down, seeing her child's dark eyes staring up at her.

"Mama, I'm tired," Lena said, the barest hint of a whine in her voice.

She felt a stab of guilt with the realization that she hadn't noticed how weary out her daughter had gotten. And they would have to wait, of course, until he was done and he could drive them back to her car. The motel they were staying at was only a ten-minute drive down towards the highway, and in all likelihood Lena would fall asleep on the ride there.

"It's okay, baby," Sally Ann said, tracing her thumb along her daughter's cheek. "We'll be done soon. And then we'll go back to our room and you can lie down."

There was a soft nod in return, but Sally Ann still wondered how she was going to get a tired child through the rest of this outing. And, deep down, she also knew that she wanted Hasil to have a best possible impression of her, for him to see the delightful and extraordinary girl that she was, and this probably wasn't going to help matters much.

"Ya a wee bit tired, Miss Lena?" she heard him say, and then she watched in astonishment as he dropped the basket onto the ground and squatted down, one knee on the linoleum flooring.

Lena's eyes were wide, but she nodded anyway, her serious gaze fixed on the man kneeling right across from her.

"If ya like, ya can ride up 'ere on my back," he said, jerking his head towards the space right behind him, the trace of a smile on his lips. "Might need som' help pickin' out things, too, so ya'd be a' great assist'nce."

Lena quickly glanced up at her, as if unsure of how to respond. And even though her heart was full to bursting, Sally Ann held herself back enough to simply nod in permission.

"Ya know, I once carried yer ma on my back when she was tired," he added, and even though he was smiling at Lena, his eyes flashed up at Sally Ann, the heat in his gaze somehow tinged with the pale shadow of sadness.

"You did?" Lena asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Mmmm-hmmm… An' she seemed ta like it, too," he said, half-hiding a grin as he offered a small shrug of his shoulders. "So, wha' d'ya say? Ya comin' on?"

Lena stood a moment in thought, considering her options, and with a tiny set in her mouth turned towards Hasil.

"Okay," she said, coming around behind him and looping her arms around his neck. And with a tiny jump, her legs were around him, his hands clasped under her knees. Sally Ann knew that Hasil was strong and that her daughter weighed next to nothing, so she watched in amusement while he rose to his feet, pretending to struggle, tilting and leaning this way and that, all, she knew, to make Lena laugh and feel a little more comfortable.

And then he turned around towards her, their beautiful, giggling daughter on his back, a smile of such pure happiness on his face, and it was all she could do not to burst into tears in the middle of the aisle, surrounded by shelves of gardening supplies. But somehow, she bit her lips together and held it in, knowing that neither of them would really understand why she was crying. Because it wouldn't just be for the last eight years, but for the last twenty eight, for all the days and weeks and months she was starved of love, the hunger so constant it was nearly forgotten. Growing up, she had prayed, closed her eyes in church and begged Jesus to send her the kind of family that would love her the way she so desperately wanted. After a while, she had started to wonder if anyone was listening. She had a daughter now, of course, that fierce mother's love filling so much of her heart. But deep down, she knew she wanted more, that little missing piece at times catching her by surprise, as she glanced at the empty chairs across from her and Lena as they ate breakfast in the morning, as she left blank all the spaces labelled "Father" on school forms, as she lay alone in her bed on sleepless nights.

So Sally Ann took a shaky breath and smiled back at them, and with a low wave of her hand gently urged Hasil to turn around and start walking down the aisle. And then she followed, picking up the half-full shopping basket as she went by.

The three of them wandered the store for a while longer, picking up a handful of other items. Before taking anything, Hasil turned back to Lena, asking what she thought, sometimes offering her two options and asking her to pick. And each time, he nodded his approval, even though Sally Ann suspected he would be pleased no matter what she chose. Lena was animated, pointing out things on the shelves, even as her other arm remained tightly wrapped around him. Her cheeks were rounding with excitement, a familiar enough expression to Sally Ann, but one, she now saw, that was exactly mirrored in the face of the man who held her on his back.

What was becoming clearer to her, as they went through the store, was that he wasn't relying to Lena to know the difference between the merchandise she picked. His eyes were moving back and forth as he scanned the shelves, and she realized he was reading. It shouldn't have surprised her – it had been eight years, after all – but still she was impressed, and then she wondered what else he might have learned to do in the time they were apart.

He still had Lena in his arms by the time they reached the checkout counter, but her energy had faded, leaving her drooping and half-asleep against Hasil's neck. The cashier – Jessie, her name tag read, in capital letters – gave them a polite, easy smile and one-by-one began to scan the items in their basket.

Sally Ann couldn't help but be struck by the surreal nature of it all: her and Hasil, standing in front of the same counter, the same place where he had asked her name and given her that carved bird. Part of her wondered if he was going to try to pay for everything with another wooden figure, but then, once the cashier said their total, he jerked his head down towards the side pocket of his pants.

"D'ya mind?" he asked with a grin, indicating with a small shrug that the child in his arms was making it impossible to do himself.

"No, sir," she replied, a mischievous smile emerging on her lips. Reaching down, she undid the button on the flap, and slid her fingers into his pocket, lingering perhaps a moment too long as they made contact with his leg. But quickly enough, she found a folded piece of paper and pulled it out, only to realize as she opened it that it was a blank check. Shay Mountain Trust, it read along the top left, the address of the lawyer's office she had found him outside right below. How had he gotten access to a trust? What sort of business was he involved in?

She looked up at him, her face clouded with surprise and confusion.

"'S diff'rent, like I tol' ya," he offered. "We's got money now."

"How?" she asked.

"'S a long story," he replied. "But I'll tell ya, I promise. For righ' now, though… coul' ya fill out tha' paper for me? I's a little occupied at th' presen'."

"Fine," she said, taking a pen from the cashier and writing out the amount and the store's name. For a moment, she thought that perhaps he had asked her to fill it out so that he didn't have to admit that he didn't know how to write, but then he awkwardly took the pen from her hand, his forearm keeping Lena's leg in place, and leaned down to quickly mark his signature. It wasn't particularly sophisticated, but it was legible, full of long, shaky letters, the H and the F marked boldly.

"I thought it was policy to ask for two forms of ID for checks," Sally Ann asked the cashier as she handed it over. She remembered the managers being strict about it – too many bad check writers out there, they had said – and while she didn't mean to be difficult, none of this was making much sense to her at the moment.

"Uh… well…" the girl stammered.

"Nah, they know me 'ere," Hasil said, jumping in. "Don' need no ID."

Sally Ann reached over and grabbed the plastic store bag full of their purchases, offering the cashier a tiny apologetic smile before the three of started walking towards the exit.

"Do you even have ID?" she asked him as they walked outside.

"Aw, Sally Ann," he said, shaking his head and smiling, "why ya gotta ask questions like tha'?"

He said it so sweetly, she couldn't helped but be charmed. But regardless of all the new questions prompted by the transaction in the store, she realized that there was no denying who Hasil Farrell was on paper: unemployed, having probably never paid a dime in taxes, and no doubt driving without a license or insurance. But what was paper? Did it even matter? What was it to her heart? What was it to her daughter, who deserved a father?

They made their way back to the truck and, after depositing a sleepy Lena in the middle of the seat, Hasil came back to the passenger door, unlocking it and opening it for her.

"Look, I gotta go back up t'night. They's expectin' me," he said, leaning up against the side of the truck as she came around to the open door. "But firs' thin' t'morrow mornin' I'm comin' back down, okay? Ya'll ain't goin' nowhere, right?"

Sally Ann took a step closer, wanting to reach out and touch him, but not knowing what effect that might have – on either of them. But there was real fear in his eyes, rooted, she knew, in the experience of loss. She had run before, and he had no guarantee she wouldn't do it again. And this time, if she left, it wouldn't just be her. But there were the things she didn't want to tell him, that she had called Lena's school and her office twice already with claims of the flu, and luckily tomorrow was Saturday, so she didn't have to worry for another day or so, but Monday was coming, and with it the realities of their lives in Pittsburgh, far away from this town and the mountain.

"We'll be here tomorrow," she said, offering him a tiny nod, and then, as if compelled by forces stronger than her understanding, she stretched out her hand, cupping the side of his face, her thumb feather-light against his skin.

The only sound he offered was a heavy breath, and she watched as his eyes fluttered shut, his long lashes fanning down towards his cheeks. He pressed his face into her palm, letting it rest there, and that one gesture – so full of trust and pain and love – told her everything, his heart opening to her without saying a word. Who could blame her, then, as she moved even closer, her arms wrapping around his body and pulling him into her tight embrace?