Page 8

I don’t know why.

“Where did you come from, Sage?”

“Tennessee. Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“I’ve been traveling for a while.”

“How old are you?”

She wets her lips. “Eighteen today.”

Arthur comes out through the side door. He doesn’t approach, but she sees him.

She steps backward.

“He’s a friend,” I say.

Her eyes dart toward the road.

“He won’t hurt you.”

“That’s what people always say.”

The words are too old for someone who turned eighteen today.

I lower my hands to my sides. “You came here looking for me.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

She takes a folded piece of paper from her jacket. Her hands tremble as she opens it.

“I didn’t know your name until a year ago. My aunt wrote it in a letter before she died.”

My heartbeat changes.

“What name?”

“Yours.”

She stares at the paper as if she has read the words so many times she no longer needs to see them.

“She said my real mother was sixteen when I was born. Her parents hurt her because she was pregnant. A midwife named Mae delivered me inside their house.”

The mountains tilt beneath my feet.

The girl’s voice grows quieter.

“My mother’s name was Hayley.”

I stop breathing.

Arthur says my name, but he sounds far away.

I look at the girl standing in front of me. The brown hair. The glasses. The loose clothing that hides everything about her.