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nd e ring for hours , wa iting for th e s w irling ma ss to dissipate. As a child , M ir a nd a h a d oft e n wond e r e d if such fogs w e r e a ctu a lly doorw a ys to oth e r w orlds , a nd if on e could si m ply w a lk awa y a nd find on e s e lf so me wh e r e e ls e e nt i r e l y . A nic e thought . S h e s m il e d at th e mem ory a nd turn e d th e corn e r .
    He r m ind drift e d b a ck to a noth e r ti me, wh e n th e fog h a d not been as thick but sh e h a d been w a lking a lon e, h e r thoughts just as distr a ct e d . T h a t night sh e h a d me t H im . He h a d s a v e d h e r fro m a p a ir of str ee t roughs . A shiv e r th a t h a d noth i ng to do w ith th e cold rippl e d ov e r h e r skin a nd tight e n e d h e r nippl e s . T h a t str a ng e ma n of d a rk a nd
     
    sh a do w s h a d a pull th a t dr ew h e r in still . S tr a ng e l y , sh e h a d w a nt e d to beg hi m to st a y , or p e rh a ps t a k e h e r w ith hi m, wh e r e v e r it wa s th a t h e pl a nn e d to go. I ns a n i ty . And y e t …
    S h e took a br a cing br ea th . G uilt pluck e d h a rd at h e r h ea rt b e c a us e sh e could not ignor e th a t a virtu a l str a ng e r h a d t a lk e d to h e r , h a d look e d at h e r as if h e und e rstood h e r d a rk e st s e lf . W hy didn’t sh e f ee l th a t w ith Ma rtin? He h a d been h e r fri e nd a ll h e r lif e. S h e lov e d hi m. Be ing w ith Ma rtin g a v e h e r a s e ns e of pl a c e. He wa s h e r history , a nd wou l d be h e r futur e. W hy th e n did sh e continu e to think of so me on e sh e wou l d n e v e r s ee a g a in wh e n h a ppin e ss wa s h e rs to gr a sp? I s this wh a t th e y r e f e rr e d to as pr ewe dding jitt e rs?
    F rowning , M ir a nd a op e n e d th e scr ee ching g a t e of h e r ho me, th e sound am plifi e d a nd sh a rp in th e fog . S l ow l y , sh e cli m b e d th e cru m bling front st a irs . Lights burn e d b e hind th e gri m y p a rlor w indo w s . Ma rtin m ust be c a lling . Fa th e r didn’t wa st e th a t m uch l am p oil for h e r , a nd Ma rtin wa s th e only visitor th e y h a d a ny m or e.
    An un e xp e ct e d gust of w a r m th hit h e r ch ee ks as sh e wa lk e d insid e. O n its h ee ls wa s th e h ea dy sc e nt of rich , ro a sting mea t . He r sto ma ch gru m bl e d in r e spons e. He r frown gr ew as sh e took off h e r li m p bonn e t a nd d am p glov e s . S inc e wh e n did th e y splurg e on ro a st? And who wa s cook i ng it ?
    “ Daugh t e r ? Is t ha t you? ”
    T h e sound of h e r f a th e r’s hop e ful voic e ma d e h e r m outh pinch . W ho e ls e wou l d it be? W ho e ls e but th e d a ught e r h e push e d out on th e str ee ts to st ea l for hi m ?
    “ Y e s , ” s h e s a i d i n s t ead. S h e s et h er g l o v es a n d h at on th e littl e h a ll t a bl e, th e n s m ooth e d h e r skirts to stop h e r h a nds fro m sh a king . A deep br ea th a nd th e n sh e wa s pr e p a r e d to f a c e h e r f a th e r .
    He a nd a noth e r ma n w e r e sitting in th e two chint z
     
    a r m ch a irs th a t fl a nk e d th e h ea rth . A good h e lping of co a l burn e d st ea dily th e r e, w a r m ing th e roo m. A pr e tty pictur e w e r e it not for th e d a rk spot on th e f a d e d silk w a ll a bov e th e ma nt l e th a t ma rk e d th e a bs e nc e of a portr a it . He r m oth e r , e xp e rtly r e nd e r e d in oils , h a d onc e s m il e d down . But sh e ’d been sold off y ea rs ago. M ir a nd a h a d sobb e d wh e n th e y took h e r a w a y , only to be told by h e r f a th e r th a t if sh e h a d controll e d h e r str a ng e pow e r , h e wou l d not h a v e h a d to stoop to such mea sur e s .
    M ir anda l ooked away fr om t he spo t , ha ti ng t he way he r s t omach t w i s t ed. She ha t ed t h i s r oom, much p r e f e rri ng t o h i de away i n he r own r oom.
    T h e me n ros e wh e n sh e e nt e r e d . I t wa s th e n sh e r e cogni ze d th e ir visitor .
    “ O l d Dove r!” W it