The Swailing

Home.

I pull up in front of Finn's house, so nervous I can barely put the car in park. It's been over a month since we've seen each other – twice as much time as we even spent together. I don't know if he got enough money to keep the farm, don't know if he wants to see me, I don't even know for sure that he's here. For all I know his ping was just a cryptic comment that he'd found a new home somewhere else. Maybe one out west with his brother. All I do know is that I wanted to see him and as soon as I got his message. It was like I had no choice.

I could have pinged him back from Camden's HandHeld. I could have asked him all those questions ahead of time. But instead I borrowed my mom's car and drove the three hours to Vermont.

But what if everything is different now? What if the novelty of me has worn off?

I guess I need to know one way or the other. What was it that he said to me that night in New York? At least you'll know.

I glance at my tattoo and take a deep breath. I get out of the car and go to the front door and knock quickly before I change my mind.

I stand in the brittle cold, shifting from one foot to the other, feeling like I might throw up at any moment.

But no one answers. I knock again and peek in the window. The house looks lived in, the electricity is on. But there is no movement, no other sign of life inside.

I decide to walk around the back of the house and up the small hill behind it. It looks over a little valley where the barn and creek are. It's freezing cold out but blindingly sunny, and I have to shield my eyes to see. Between the bright sun and the cold wind, my eyes water and I think about the day Finn and I came here together and he stood on top of this hill. I scan the valley for signs of life, but there's no one.

"Ember."

His voice comes from behind me, and when I turn he's there, just a few meters away from me. We step towards each other at the same time and he wraps his arms around me. I bury my face in his coat and he smells like cold bright sunshine, just like the day.

We talk for hours, like we've been saving up all of our stories until we could release them to each other. He tells me that after he left me in Maine he went back west to find his brother. It took him longer than he thought it would because Tristan had moved even farther north, to Montana, with his new wife and tiny baby. When Finn found him he proposed that they let the government take most of the land but try and keep the house, the barn, etc. His brother agreed and signed off on all the necessary documents. Then Finn stayed out west for a short time to try to earn the remaining money he needed.

"Legally?" I ask.

He tilts his head and squints at me. My stomach does a flip flop. "Don't you think I learned my lesson with you?"

I shrug and tuck my hands under my legs so I don't grab him and kiss him.

He explains that he paid the taxes on a portion of the land, and released the remaining portion to the government.

"So you own the house?"

"For now," he says. "Technically, you do, too."

I must look confused.

"I found your ... donation ... in the glove compartment." His tilts his head slightly and gives me one of his heart-melting, sincere looks. "Thank you."

Oh, right. The money. I just smile at him, happy.

I start to ask him more questions about his trip but he waves his hand and says he wants to hear about me, about my family.