"Hey, twig!"
From the corner of her eye, little Ginny noticed the two boys by the fence down the forest trail. She preferred to avoid them, but this was the only path she could take without getting lost. Ginny kept her gaze down, pretending not to hear, and stepped a little faster.
The boy who had spoken before walked up to block her path. He folded his arms across his chest. "Where d'ya think yer going, twig?"
Ginny glanced up at him. "To my granny."
The boy frowned while he peered down at her. "What's that on yer face, twig?"
"The twig doesn't wash'r face!" the other boy said with a sneer.
Ginny pouted. "They're called 'freckles!'" she protested.
"Freckle-face! Freckle-face!" the boys taunted while they pushed Ginny from one to the other and back again.
When one of them failed to catch her, Ginny fell on her hands and knees. "Leave me alone!" she cried with tears in her eyes.
"Oh, we will!" one of the boys said. "After we wash those freckles from yer face... in the pond!"
The boys laughed while they grabbed Ginny by the arms and dragged her towards the water. The little girl screamed and struggled, but she was no match for them.
"Let's see if the twig'll float!" one of the boys suggested.
"No, I can't swim yet! Please, no!" pleaded Ginny while the other boy reached down to grab her feet. Ginny closed her eyes and screamed for dear life. She expected to be hoisted into the air, but instead she fell to the ground when all of a sudden her arms were released.
An older boy had arrived at the scene. With a lot of pulling and shoving he fought off the two boys who had been harassing Ginny. After the bullies had fled, the older boy extended his hand to Ginny. His dark brown hair was all ruffled up, but his smile was kind. Ginny's tender heart pounded when he helped her to her feet. "You alright?" he asked.
"Yes, thank you," she answered in a small voice. Ginny glanced up at him and he gazed down at her, still holding her hand. Ginny wished he could stay with her forever.
"Ethan! Come back here!" a man bellowed from a distance. "At once, I say!"
Ginny let out a wistful sigh while she watched the boy dash off. "Ethan..."
~*~
"Live each day like it's your last."
Ethan Clark contemplated the sentence. It had been his grandfather's motto. Now it was an inscription on the old man's tombstone. Ethan was sure his grandfather would have wanted it. Yet something disturbed him when he recalled one of their last conversations. Ethan used to entertain the old man on his sickbed by talking about his carefree bachelor's life: the drinking games with his friends, the various mishaps at playing cards, his adventures with women... many different women. One time the old man had asked Ethan whether that was all he ever wanted. Ethan had answered he could not wish for more. His grandfather had only nodded his head, looking somewhat sad. It gnawed at Ethan, but he could not tell why.
The journey from his grandfather's house in Millstow back to Ethan's home in Windfarn took three days by carriage. The departure from his daily routine as well as the change of scenery offered him ample time to reflect on his life. Things had settled down in the last few years. Ethan had been seeing Celia Wilson, the most beautiful girl in town. She suited his physical needs well enough, but the thought of spending the rest of his life with Celia did not appeal to Ethan at all.
When they arrived in Windfarn, Ethan left his parents in their residence by the river to return to his own house across town. It was not that late yet. Perhaps he should visit the tavern for a drink and a chat. It would be good to let people know he was back in town. His friends would be there.
Celia would be there.
Ethan stopped in his tracks. He had returned from Millstow without bringing her a present. Celia would be furious! Ethan was not in the mood for another fight. It would be better to go home and deal with Celia later. He could say he had been tired from the journey.
While he traversed the square, Ethan noticed two women approaching. "Ol' Granny Frye," he greeted the older woman, managing to sound upbeat. "I hope all's well with you, ma'am."
She was not related to Ethan, but all the townspeople called her "Ol' Granny" because Mrs. Frye was the oldest woman in Windfarn. "It's nice to see you again, young Mr. Clark," she answered with a kind smile.
"Miss Greene," said Ethan, turning to the younger woman. "Ginny," he corrected himself.
"I'm so sorry about your grandfather, Ethan," she replied in a soft voice.
Ethan was moved by her thoughtfulness. He knew Ginny from his schooldays, but they had never been very close. Yet somehow she had sensed his mood. "Thank you, Ginny," he replied with a little smile. "That's very sweet of you."
All of a sudden the wind tugged at the shawl Ol' Granny wore around her shoulders. While she sought to fasten it, some groceries fell from the basket she was carrying on her arm. "Oh, my!" the old woman exclaimed.
Ginny bent down at once to retrieve the items.
"Please allow me," said Ethan. He reached for the same apple as Ginny, but she caught it first and Ethan's hand ended up around hers.
"Oh!" They both gasped and froze.
Ginny's wide open eyes gazed back into his while shallow breaths escaped through her slightly parted lips. Her long hair billowed in the wind, brushing her face every now and then. Ethan moved towards her. "Ginny..." he whispered. She blushed and looked down. Ethan followed her gaze and looked down as well. He was still holding on to Ginny's hand. For some reason Ethan did not want to let go. Something about this young woman mesmerized him.
All of a sudden Ginny pulled her hand away from Ethan's. "I'll be needing my hand back," she said. "Goodbye!" She promptly left, dragging Ol' Granny along with her.
"Erm, bye!" stammered Ethan. He stood dumbfounded at the sudden change in Ginny's attitude. Why would she flee from him like that? Ginny had always been a shy girl, but she was a young woman now. Surely he had done nothing inappropriate to scare her off like that. Ethan wanted to hold Ginny's hand again. He wanted to do more if she would let him...