They were in his study waiting for me, but I wouldn’t know that until many years later. The room was large and bare except for a pine table Hugh used as a desk. It was piled with papers, books, and a computer. On the wall facing the desk were four small paintings of the same woman.

“What do you think?”

I was so involved in looking at them that I hadn’t heard him come in. “I don’t know. I don’t know if they’re fascinating or they scare me.”

“Scare you? Why?” There was no amusement in his voice.

“Who is she?”

He put his hands on my shoulders. “I don’t know. Around the time we met, a man came into the office and asked if I wanted to buy them. He didn’t know anything about them. He’d just bought a house in Mississippi and they were in the attic with a bunch of other stuff. I didn’t even haggle about the price.”

“Why do I feel like I know her?”

“Me too! There’s something very familiar about her. None of them are signed or dated. I have no idea who the artist was. I spent a good deal of time researching. It makes them even more mysterious.”

She was young—in her twenties—and wore her hair down, but not in any special fashion that gave you an idea of the time period. She was attractive but not so much so that it would stop you for a second look.

In one picture she sat on a couch staring straight ahead. In another she was sitting in a garden looking slightly off to the right. The painter was excellent and had genuinely caught her spirit. So often I looked at paintings, even famous ones, and felt a kind of lifelessness in the work, as if beyond a certain invisible point the subject died and became a painting. Not so here.

“Hugh, do you realize that since we met, I got beat up, saw a ghost, made out in a Gap store, and now am looking at pictures of someone I’ve never seen but know I know.”

“It’s the story of Zitterbart. Do you know it?”

“No.”

“Zitterbart means “trembling beard.” It’s a German fairy tale, but not from the Brothers Grimm. There was a king named Zitterbart who got his name from the fact that whenever he grew angry, his beard shook so much his subjects could feel its breeze in the farthest corners of his kingdom. He was ferocious and whacked off people’s heads if they so much as sneezed the wrong way. But his weak spot was his daughter Senga.

“The princess was madly in love with a knight named Blasius. Zitterbart approved of a marriage between them, but one day Blasius went to battle and died while fighting another knight named Cornelts Brom.”

“Blasius and Brom? Sounds like stomach medicine.”

“Senga was shattered and swore she would kill herself at the next new moon. The king was so frightened that he had the kingdom scoured for every good-looking man and swore if any of them caught her fancy, he would permit the marriage. But no luck. All the most interesting men were brought before her, but she’d take one look and turn to the window to see if the new moon had arrived yet. Zitterbart grew more and more desperate. He sent out a decree that any man who pleased his daughter would have her hand.

“Cornelts Brom heard about it. He’d also heard how beautiful Senga was, and he decided to have a look. The thing about Brom was, he was the plainest-looking man in the universe. His face was so forgettable people would break off conversations with him in the middle because they forgot he was there. They thought they were talking to themselves. That was why he was such a great warrior: he was essentially invisible.

“As a child he realized if he wanted to make his mark in the world he would have to excel at something, so he became the best fighter around. Plus when he was actually in a sword fight—”

“His opponents forgot he was there.”

Hugh smiled. “Exactly. But Senga wasn’t interested in great fighters, and besides, this man had killed her boyfriend! Brom was clever though and, with his forgettable face, had no problem sneaking into the city for a look at her.

“Every Tuesday the princess went with her lady-in-waiting to the marketplace to shop for food. Brom stood right next to her and watched her squeeze tomatoes, haggle over the price of cucumbers, and fill her basket.

“He instantly pitied her, and pity is a bad place for love to begin. He knew she really would kill herself because he had seen that same doomed expression of absolute hopelessness on men’s faces in battle when all they wanted was the peace of death. A special despair that comes only when people have lost the way back to their own hearts. It was Brom’s fault this had happened to Senga and he was genuinely sorry. Because he was a decent man, he swore that if it were the last thing he ever did, he would help her.

“Living outside the city were three minor devils named Nepomuk, Knud, and Gangolf. They did a good business trading wishes for parts of people’s souls. If you wanted something, you went to these little shits and said, ‘I want to be rich.’ They’d look in their ledgers and say, ‘We want your joy. Give us your ability to feel joy and we’ll make you rich.’ Most people were willing to do it too, not knowing that as soon as they did, they’d give up something much more valuable than riches.”

When he said “little shits” I laughed out loud and rubbed my hands together in expectation. He sat down next to me.

“Brom went to the devils and said he wanted to make the princess happy again. This confused them because they were sure that, with his face, he would wish to be handsome. Then they got into a fight among themselves. Nepomuk wanted Brom’s plain face because he knew that would make him vulnerable on the battlefield. Gangolf wanted his sense of humor because no fighter is ever great without the ability to laugh. Knud insisted on his fear because anyone living without fear is either a fool or dead.

“In the end, they settled for his courage. Brom didn’t hesitate: ‘Take my courage in exchange for the princess’s happiness.’ There was a large clock in the corner of their house. All three devils went over and blew on it. The clock stopped in mid tick and the deal was fixed.

“Back at the castle, the princess stopped looking for the new moon, put a hand over her heart, and started singing. She didn’t know why, but she couldn’t help herself.

“At the same time, Brom stood in the doorway of the devils’ house, unable to move because he was afraid of everything. What he didn’t realize was that the devils had given him Senga’s fear, which was what had made her want to die. Life is full of surprises, but if you’re convinced all of them will be bad, what’s the point of going on?” Hugh jumped down from the table and, taking me in his arms, started waltzing us around the room.

“And?”

“And what?”

“And what happened to Brom?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t figured it out yet.”

“You made all that up?”

“I did.” He dipped me backward.

“What does it have to do with me?”

“When you find your way back to your own heart, amazing things happen. You see ghosts, you fall in love; anything’s possible. I was trying to think up a great end to the story that would tell you all that. But I couldn’t figure out what happened and…

“I wanted to tell a story that would convince you it’s time, Miranda. Time to let go and start trusting me. Let it happen.”

“I do trust you. I’m just scared.” I pulled away and swept an arm in a wide arc to include his room, his home, his family. “But I’m also ready. Let’s go to my place.”