Slender and tall for his age, Devin stood straight as an arrow and had their father’s black hair and deep blue eyes. A year older than Bree, Devin was the one who shortened her name. Using the Irish word for a high, rocky hill, he often told her, “When you’re stubborn, you’re like a mountain that can’t be moved.”
Her brother meant to tease, but Bree liked having a name that reminded her of the lofty headland up the coast from where they lived. For as long as she could remember, Devin had watched out for her. Usually Bree didn’t appreciate his help. Now he wanted to know what she was doing.
“I saved a lad from drowning,” Bree said.
“Drowning?” Devin’s blue eyes widened. “Where?”
“You know the stepping-stones where the rivers come together? Where we never swim because of the current?”
“So you swam there? We’re not supposed to!”
“If I hadn’t, the boy would have drowned. He hit his head when he fell.”
As Bree started back across the meadow, Devin took the bread and pail of milk and followed. “So now you’re bringing him this?”
“He’s tired. Too tired and cold to come here.”
Still wondering if she were imagining things, Bree didn’t explain her mixed-up feelings. She and Devin walked quickly without taking time to talk. When they reached the high place overlooking the river, Bree glanced ahead and stopped short.
“Where is he?” Devin asked.
Bree shrugged. “Maybe he’s behind a bush or tree. Staying out of the wind.”
Worried now, she broke into a run. But when she reached the rock where Michael had been, there was no one in sight.
“You’re sure you have the right place?” Devin asked.
“I’m sure.”
“So where is he, this lad you rescued?”
With growing uneasiness, Bree dropped the blanket and started downstream. In one spot she leaped from rock to rock. Whenever she reached an open place, she looked around. Finally she changed direction, hurried back to Devin, and followed the river upstream.
At last Bree had to give up. Whoever the boy was, he was nowhere to be found.
When she again returned to her brother, Bree saw the look in his eyes. “You’re sure you didn’t imagine things?” he asked.
Bree shook her head. She had no doubt that she had saved a boy from drowning. Besides, her dress and long, reddish blonde hair were only partly dry. But where could Michael be? Though he didn’t want to admit it, he needed help.
Or did he? Uneasy nudges poked at Bree’s thoughts. Yes, he had almost drowned. But after that? Did he just pretend he was cold? It all seemed so strange.
Now Devin turned on her. “Did you really swim here by yourself? Are you trying to cover up so I don’t tell Dad?”
“Daddy nearly drowned here as a boy,” Bree told him. “He told me what to do if I ever needed to help.”
“But if you helped a lad, where is he?” Devin asked for the third time.
Even to Bree, it didn’t seem real. How could Michael just disappear?
Then she looked down. One flat rock next to the river was still wet. Bree pointed to it. “That’s where I helped him out.”
The whole thing worried Bree. Michael had avoided her questions. Bree felt sure of that. But was he dizzy and mixed up from hitting his head? Did he fall into the river and drown after all?
Filled with misery, Bree stared upstream and down. It was all her fault. He was cold and weak, and she shouldn’t have left him.
“What was the boy’s name?” Devin asked, still curious.
“Michael.” Bree spoke slowly. “He said his name was Michael. You know like the angel in the Bible?”
In that instant Bree understood why she felt uneasy. “But he pronounced Michael a different way.”
Suddenly Bree felt angry. It wasn’t Michael who needed help. It was me.
Not even to this brother who cared about her did Bree want to admit her questions. I found Michael here in early morning. Did he come as a spy in the night? Did I catch him off guard because he thought no one was around?
Deep inside, Bree started to tremble. Who is this boy who seems to know exactly what he plans to do?
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