My heart stopped.

She just stood there and stared at me. I was too overwhelmed to move. I felt something inside me give way. I put my hand to my mouth to stifle a cry. She moved toward me. Tears stung her eyes. I shook my head. She did not stop. She reached me and pulled me close.

"It's okay," she whispered.

I closed my eyes. For a long while we just held each other. We did not speak. We did not move. We just slipped away.

52

"My real name is Nora Spring."

We sat in the lower level of a Starbucks on Park Avenue South, in a corner near an emergency fire exit. No one else was down here. She kept her eyes on the stairs, worried I'd been followed. This Starbucks, like so many others, had earth tones, surreal swirling artwork, and large photographs of brown-skinned men too happily picking coffee beans. She held a venti iced latte between both hands. I went with the frappuccino.

The chairs were purple and oversize and just plush enough. We pushed them together. We held hands. I was confused, of course. I wanted answers. But beyond that, on a whole higher plane, the pure joy splashed through me. It was an amazing rush. It calmed me. I was happy. Whatever I was about to learn would not change that. The woman I loved was back. I would let nothing change that.

She sipped at the latte. "I'm sorry," she said.

I squeezed her hand.

"To run out like that. To let you think" she stopped "I can't even imagine what you must have thought." Her eyes found mine. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"I'm okay, "I said.

"How did you learn I wasn't Sheila?"

"At her funeral. I saw the body."

"I wanted to tell you, especially after I heard she'd been murdered."

"Why didn't you?"

"Ken told me it might get you killed."

My brother's name jarred me. Nora turned away. I slid my hand up her arm and stopped at the shoulder. The tension had knotted her muscles. I gently kneaded them, a familiar moment for us. She closed her eyes and let my fingers work. For a long time neither of us spoke. I broke the silence. "How long have you known my brother?"

"Almost four years," she said.

I nodded through my shock, trying to encourage her to say more, but she still had her face turned away. I gently took hold of her chin and turned her to me. I kissed her lightly on the lips.

She said, "I love you so much."

I felt a soar that nearly lifted me off the chair. "I love you too."

"I'm scared, Will."

"I'll protect you," I said.

She held my gaze. "I've been lying to you. The whole time we've been together."

"I know."

"Do you really think we can survive that?"

"I lost you once," I said. "I'm not going to lose you again."

"You're that sure?"

"Love you," I said. "Always."

She studied my face. I don't know what she was looking for. "I'm married, Will."

I tried to keep my expression blank, but it was not easy. Her words wrapped around me and tightened, boa-constrictor-like. I almost pulled my hand away.

"Tell me," I said.

"Five years ago, I ran away from my husband, Cray. Cray was" she closed her eyes "incredibly abusive. I don't want to go into details. They're not important anyway. We lived in a town called Cramden. It's not far from Kansas City. One day, after Cray put me in the hospital, I ran away. That's all you need to know, okay?"

I nodded.

"I don't have any family. I had friends, but I really didn't want to get them involved. Cray is insane. He wouldn't let me go. He threatened…" Her voice trailed away. "Never mind what he threatened. But I couldn't put anyone at risk. So I found a shelter that helps battered women. They took me in. I told them I wanted to start over. I wanted to get out of there. But I was afraid of Cray. You see, Cray is a town cop. You have no idea… you live in terror for so long, you start to think that a man is omnipotent. It's impossible to explain."

I scooted a little closer, still holding her hand. I had seen the effects of abuse. I understood.

"The shelter helped me escape to Europe. I lived in Stockholm. It was hard. I got a job as a waitress. I was lonely all the time. I wanted to come back, but I was still so afraid of my husband, I didn't dare. After six months, I thought I'd lose my mind. I still had nightmares about Cray finding me…"

Her voice broke off. I had no idea what to do. I tried to scoot my chair closer to hers. The armrests were already touching, but I think she appreciated the gesture.

"Anyway, I finally met a woman. She was an American living in the area. We started cautiously, but there was something about her. I guess we both had that on-the-run look. We were also lonely as hell, though she at least had her husband and daughter. They were in deep hiding too. I didn't know why at first."

"This woman," I said. "It was Sheila Rogers?"

"Yes."

"And the husband." I stopped, swallowed. "That was my brother."

She nodded. "They have a daughter named Carly."

It was beginning to make sense.

"Sheila and I became close friends, and while it took him a little longer to trust me, I grew close to Ken too. I moved in with them, started helping them take care of

Carly. Your niece is a wonderful child, Will. Smart and beautiful and, not to get metaphysical, but there is such an aura around her."

My niece. Ken had a daughter. I had a niece I had never seen.

"Your brother talked about you all the time, Will. He might mention your mother or your father or even Melissa, but you were his world. He followed your career. He knew all about your working at Covenant House. Here he had been in hiding for what, seven years? He was lonely too, I guess. So once he trusted me, he talked to me a lot. And what he talked about most was you."

I blinked and looked down at the table. I studied the Starbucks brown napkin. There was some stupid poem about aroma and a promise on it. Made from recycled paper. The color was brown because they did not use bleach.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine," I said. I looked up. "So what happened next?"

"I got in touch with a friend back home. She told me that Cray had hired a private detective and that he knew I was in the Stockholm area. I panicked, but at the same time, I was ready to move on. Like I said, I had lived with Cray in Missouri. I figured that if I moved to New York, maybe I'd be safe. But I needed a deeper ID, in case Cray kept hunting. Sheila was in the same boat. Her fake ID was all surface, just a name change. And that was when we came up with a simple plan."

I nodded. This one I knew. "You switched identities."

"Right. She became Nora Spring and I became Sheila Rogers. This way, if my husband came after me, he'd only find her. And if the people searching for them found Sheila Rogers, well, you see, it adds another layer."

I considered that, but something still did not add up. "Okay, so that's how you became Sheila Rogers. You switched identities."

"Yes."

"And you ended up in New York City."

"Yes."

"And" here was the part I was having trouble with "somehow we happened to meet."

Nora smiled. "You're wondering about us, aren't you?"

"I guess I am."

"You're thinking it's a hell of a coincidence that I volunteered at the very place you work."

"It would seem unlikely," I agreed.

"Well, you're right. It wasn't a coincidence." She sat back and sighed. "I'm not sure how to explain this, Will."

I just held her hand and waited.

"Okay, you have to understand. I was so lonely overseas. All I had was your brother and Sheila and, of course, Carly. I spent all that time hearing your brother rave about you, and it was like… it was like you were so different from any man I'd ever known. The truth is, I think I was half in love with you before we ever met. So I told myself when I came to New York that I'd just meet you, see what you were really like. Maybe if it seemed okay, I'd even tell you that your brother was alive and that he was innocent, though Ken warned me repeatedly about the danger of that. It wasn't a plan or anything. I just came to New York and one day I walked into Covenant House, and call it destiny or fate or whatever, but the moment I saw you, I knew that I would love you forever."