More than anything, Kylie wanted to toss her violently ringing phone right out the car window, but that felt a little immature for a twenty-one-year-old. So instead she drove resolutely on, ignoring the cheery ringtone. Maybe it was the height of rudeness to let one’s best friend go to voicemail—but just then, Kylie couldn’t have cared less.

And really, Allison shouldn’t be surprised to get voicemail. Relaxation was, after all, the whole point of Kylie’s weekend getaway. It wasn’t easy being the maid of honor for a paranoid perfectionist. Still, Allison probably had some right to be stressed—it wasn’t every day one got married—and Kylie sighed, peeled one hand off the steering wheel, jammed her phone between her shoulder and her ear, and turned back to the road.

“Hello?”

“Kylie!” Allison’s voice came through in a garbled rush of relief. “I wasn’t expecting you to pick up!” “Well, I did.” Kylie hoped her voice hadn’t sounded too irritated—but she found she didn’t really care if it had. And where was the sign for her exit? She couldn’t have missed it, could she?

“Anyway,” Allison was saying, “I’ll keep this short because I know you’re on vacation, but—what’s that, Mom? No, Emma already made a basket for cards. Can you make sure Teddy isn’t eating the filling for deviled eggs?”

Kylie’s irritation disappeared as she bit her lip to keep back a giggle, scanning the road again for her exit sign—there it was! She put on her blinker and switched to the right lane. “What’s going on over there?”

Allison laughed, and the sound in the background faded. “Oh, just eight siblings, four ladies from church, and twelve relatives all in one kitchen. I’m hiding in the bathroom now, because it’s the only quiet place in the whole—oh, never mind, someone’s knocking.” The rush of background noise returned, and then Allison said, “I’m outside now—can you hear me okay?”

“Yeah, you’re fine.” Kylie pulled into the exit for Grand Marais. “Why did you call?”

“Oh—right. Sorry.” Allison hesitated, and Kylie could picture her chewing her lip. “It’s just…Alex texted me today and said he could make it to the wedding after all. I would have said no, it’s so last-minute, but he’s such an old friend, and he’s known your family for years and he’s Aaron’s roommate and everything. I just didn’t know if you’d mind.”

The amusement of a few moments ago evaporated, and Kylie struggled to keep her attention on the road as she pulled into the first gas station she saw. “Alex wants to come?” And her older brother Aaron was not refusing the request, decades of friendship notwithstanding?

Allison exhaled, and Kylie could hear the anxiety in her voice. “I would have said no, but he’s a family friend, and I don’t want to be rude. But if you don’t want to see him, I’ll tell him no. Make up some excuse about running out of food or something.”

As if Allison’s family would ever run out of food. Kylie realized she was chewing on her lower lip— and it had just started looking better, too. She really needed to find a different nervous habit. “Yeah. It’s fine. He can come.”

Allison was silent. “Are you sure? I won’t blame you if you don’t want to see him after…what happened.”

Kylie tried to laugh, but it came out as a prolonged sigh. “It was just a breakup, Allison. Everyone has them. And it’s not like I can avoid him for the rest of my life.”

“Yeah, but…it’s only been a few months.”

“Six months,” Kylie said firmly, pulling into a parking spot in front of the gas station. “Six months and thirteen days. It’s fine. Let him come. I have to go now—I’m at a gas station. Talk to you later?”

“Sure,” Allison said, still sounding far from convinced. “See you Monday. Love you!” 

“Love you, too,” Kylie said, and hung up before she could second-guess herself.

She sat for a moment studying Allison’s picture on her phone—the two of them together after a college choir concert that spring, still clutching binders of music, flushed and smiling. It had been easier before the semester ended—easier not to think about Alex. Eighteen credits and a part-time job didn’t allow much time for overthinking things.

But now, Kylie couldn’t help wondering if she’d made the right decision. If she should have waited in case something changed. There had been nothing really wrong with Alex, after all—nothing except that missing something that made Allison and Jacob look at each other like they’d forgotten there was anything else in the world… 

“Stop it,” Kylie said under her breath, pulling her keys out of the ignition and reaching for her purse. “You’re just making it worse.”

She exhaled, resting her purse on her lap and staring out the car window at the dingy gas station. All she wanted was to be alone right now…to drive straight to her family’s cabin, lock herself inside, and emerge three weeks after Allison’s wedding.

Instead, she took a deep breath, opened the car door, and went into the gas station.

Aside from the lanky teen boy behind the cash register, the building was empty. Kylie stopped in the doorway, drawing in another long breath. Why did everything have to feel so overwhelming? She’d packed enough food that she could make it through the weekend—didn’t even have to buy anything if she didn’t want to.

The cashier was watching her with a concerned expression, and Kylie forced a smile before heading to the aisle of chips. Popcorn was supposed to be healthier than chips, right? The thought was comforting, and she grabbed a bag of popcorn along with a few iced coffees before turning back to the cashier.

“Find everything all right?” he asked as he scanned her purchases.

Kylie nodded—maybe she could make it back to the car without a single word. The old adage of misery loving company was all wrong.

But no such luck. The cashier swiftly bagged her purchases and inquired, “Where are you headed?”

It was a fair question—Grand Marais was hours from the closest major city. Kylie cleared her throat, trying to keep her tone cheerful as she answered. “My family has a cabin half an hour north of here. I’m just up for the weekend.”

He nodded. “That’ll be eight-fifty-three. Family reunion up there?”

“No.” Kylie fumbled in her purse for her wallet. “Just wanted a quiet few days.”

The cashier raised his eyebrows, taking the crumpled bills she offered. “There’s some strange stories about one of those cabins.”

Local ghost stories were really the last thing Kylie wanted to hear about, but she nodded politely.

“It’s the old Nelson cabin,” the cashier continued, counting out Kylie’s change. “Back when my grandpa was a kid. Joyce Nelson was up there one summer writing—before she was published, you know— and they say strange things started happening.”

Suddenly this story was more intriguing. Kylie scooped her change off the counter, but she didn’t step toward the door. “Joyce Nelson was my grandmother.”

The cashier looked her over with a new interest. “Was she? Well, I guess you’ll be all right, then.” Kylie shoved her change into the pocket of her jeans. “What do you mean, strange things?”

The cashier glanced down, clearly uncomfortable. “It’s probably just stories—not much happens around here, so we’ve got to make something up once in awhile. But…they say that as she was writing, her story started to come to life.”

Kylie blinked, wondering if she should make a run for the door before this got any crazier. But instead she asked, “What do you mean, come to life?”

He shrugged, studying the cash register with feigned interest. “Don’t know. Just that it’s not a place I’d like to go alone. But you’re her granddaughter—I guess you’ll be all right.”

***

The sun was low in the sky by the time Kylie pulled up to the Nelson cabin and parked in the gravel driveway. She leaned back in her seat, studying the scene outside—the still, gold-rimmed lake just visible in her side mirror, the soft green pine trees standing sentinel on the slope to her left. Little wonder people thought stories could come alive in this place. Hadn’t they when Kylie and her brothers played in those trees as children? They hadn’t been in the quiet northern woods of Minnesota at all—they’d been in the Big Woods with the Ingalls family or the forests of Narnia with the Pevensie children or Sherwood Forest with a ragtag band of Merry Men… 

But Kylie was being ridiculous, and she knew it. Reminiscing could wait till morning—right now, she needed to get her car unpacked before the sun set altogether.

Two trips were enough to bring in her suitcase, backpack, and miniature cooler, and by the time the sky was dark, Kylie’s sleeping bag was rolled out on the sagging couch. That was all she had to unpack, and it wasn’t even nine. Somehow she hadn’t anticipated boredom on her trip—hadn’t even thought to bring a book.

With a long sigh, Kylie stretched out on her sleeping bag and worked her fingers through her tangled hair. Usually she liked solitude, but just then it only made her feel lonelier. A wave of jealousy hit her as she thought of Allison and Jacob. They would never have to worry about being lonely…never find themselves alone on a quiet evening with no one to talk to and nothing to do. Their lives would be full—and hers felt so empty.

Slowly, Kylie’s eyes closed, and a single tear slipped down her cheek. She was being ridiculous, lying there crying when she had so much to be grateful for…but all next week, she’d have to put on a brave smile as she arranged flowers and frosted cupcakes and curled Allison’s hair. Why not cry while she could?

If she were Allison, Kylie thought as she curled into a tighter ball against the sagging back of the couch, Jacob would be right here with her, telling her everything would be all right, that he loved her no matter what… 

On the other hand, if she were Allison, she would be planning a wedding instead of crying, and that thought wasn’t exactly comforting.

“Come on, Ky,” she muttered, sitting up and swiping futilely at her cheeks, “get it together.” Was she seriously crying because her best friend was getting married? What kind of petty jealousy was that?

But petty or not, the pull was strong enough that she knew she’d succumb if she didn’t give herself some distraction—and fast. So before she could second-guess herself and return to sobbing into the couch, she shoved her messy hair out of her face and grabbed her backpack from the floor.

Kylie had tried to pack relaxing activities—a deck of cards, a long-abandoned knitting project—but for some reason she’d shoved her laptop in there, too. Not that she needed it for anything, but she still liked to have it along. Absently, she powered it on and, for lack of anything better to do, started to check email before she remembered the cabin didn’t have Wi-Fi.

Well, so much for that. Kylie sighed and turned back to her backpack, but her only interesting discovery was an ancient granola bar shoved in the bottom. Tearing off the wrapper, Kylie turned back to her laptop in hopes of a miraculous internet signal—something, anything to keep her from laying back down and feeling sorry for herself. Tempting as the prospect sounded, it wasn’t exactly a productive use of her time.

Your problem, Kylie, she could almost hear Allison saying, is that you’re too productive. You need a vacation.

I’m literally on a vacation right now, she protested mentally, and reached for her phone, hoping for a dozen or so messages. At least replying to them would give her something to do. But as it turned out, she had exactly one message—and from Allison, no less: Relaxing yet?

Kylie answered quickly: Relaxing? What’s that?

Allison didn’t reply, which was hardly surprising. She was probably fitting her wedding dress or folding napkins or something. Guilt tensed Kylie’s stomach—she was Allison’s best friend, and she should have been there to help her.

No, Kylie. Allison told you to go. She has her family—they can help her. And… The jealousy returned, souring Kylie’s mouth. And she has Jacob.

But she was being ridiculous. Was she really begrudging her best friend happiness? Kylie shook her head to clear it, closing her web browser and tapping her fingers absently on the keyboard. Something to read—that’s what she needed to get her mind off herself and her petty problems. Only she hadn’t brought a single book, hadn’t even downloaded an e-book before she left the internet behind in Grand Marais.

Kylie’s eyes slipped shut, and she swallowed hard against the tears clogging her throat. She’d never been bored at the cabin as a child. She and her brothers had always had too much to do: splashing each other in the lake, scrambling up and down trees like squirrels, building forts out of brush and fallen branches. Best of all was the summer she was ten. Aaron had been thirteen and not quite too old to play, and Caleb was six and just old enough, and Noah and Luke were as enthusiastic as always.

That was the year that Aaron loved all things Robin Hood, and the pine trees behind the cabin became Sherwood Forest for two weeks straight. Aaron was Robin, of course, and Noah was forced into the role of the sheriff, and the other three were Merry Men except for the times Kylie was needed as a damsel in distress. Grand stories played out in the woods that summer—tales of courage and cowardice, of brotherhood and betrayal, and certainly never of true love because Aaron insisted he couldn’t marry his sister even if she was Maid Marian.

They hadn’t come to the cabin the summer after that—they were too busy taking care of Grandma Joyce—and the next year, Aaron had been fifteen and too old for Robin Hood. Noah played Robin for a little while, but it wasn’t the same without all five of them. They still played in the woods, but the stories never again became real the way they had that summer.

The way they had for Grandma Joyce.

Of course the woods weren’t magical—Kylie knew that perfectly well. But something remained in the clear air and quiet trees and still water that kindled the imagination—that made happy endings seem like a real possibility.

Maybe that was why she had come. Trying to find the happy ending that seemed to have passed her by.

But just then, as Kylie sat on the couch with her eyes squeezed shut against a flood of tears, the future was the last thing she wanted to think about. Her mind was too full of the past: of desperate rescues and duels with old sticks, of treetop castles and daring escapes, of the days when the right thing to do was as clear as summer sunlight… 

But those days were long gone. So instead, Kylie chose the next best thing. She opened her eyes, pulled up an empty document, and began to type:

Once upon a time… 

***

Cold air gusted over Kylie’s face, and her eyes snapped open. When had she fallen asleep? And why was it cold? Sure, northern Minnesota wasn’t exactly known for high temperatures—but cold? In July?

The world around her was dark, and it took a moment for Kylie to make out the stone wall in front of her, the high barred window admitting a single beam of moonlight. Relief rushed over her—it was just a dream, if an unusually vivid one. Dreams, she could manage.

At least, she hoped she could.

Unsteadily, Kylie stood up, brushing her hands off on her jeans. Interesting—she would have thought her dream would provide her with something more regal. But jeans were comfortable, so she decided not to complain—even if she was still only wearing socks.

Kylie pivoted to study her cell from all angles: tiny window, stone walls, a heavy metal-braced wooden door. Not very conducive to escape, but it was a dream, so she should be able to control it.

Without hesitation, Kylie pressed her hand against the wooden door—but it didn’t yield. She frowned and pressed harder, but if anything, the door just felt stronger than before.

Well…that’s interesting.

Before she had time to brainstorm further escape attempts, footsteps sounded from somewhere outside her cell, and she turned toward the soft sound. Her hearing was surprisingly distinct for a dream—so were all her senses, for that matter… 

Something scraped against the outside of the door, so quiet Kylie wouldn’t have heard it if she weren’t holding her breath. She stepped back, wondering if she should feel scared or at least mildly concerned. But if she was honest with herself, she was more curious than anything else.

The door opened slowly, prolonging the squeal of the hinges, and a man stepped into the doorway. The thin line of moonlight hit his face, illuminating alert gray eyes, a straight nose, and a mouth that looked used to smiling. Even in the doorway of a prison cell, his expression held a note of humor as he stepped forward, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

“Good evening, Marian.”

Momentarily, Kylie gaped at him. Then she reminded herself she was dreaming—about Robin Hood, apparently. Well, if she was Maid Marian, she might as well do a good job of it. “I won’t tell you where Robin is! Torture me if you want, but I won’t tell you a thing.”

The man looked ready to burst out laughing. Instead he said, “Don’t you recognize me?”

He stepped forward, and the moonlight came to rest on his cloak—a soft, mossy green in the shadows. Kylie blinked at him. “You’re…Robin Hood?”

“Well, I prefer Robert, but yes.” He glanced over his shoulder and stepped back into the shadows. “And if you don’t mind, why don’t we get out of here before the sheriff’s men catch up with me?”

Kylie realized she was grinning, and she pressed her lips together in an attempt to regain a more dignified expression. “Sounds like a plan.”

Her grin returned as she followed Robin—Robert—down the shadowy passageway and a short flight of stairs, coming out onto a still unpaved street. Robert paused for a moment, pressed against the wall as he scanned the street.

“All clear,” he murmured, and motioned for Kylie to follow him as he slipped down the street, toward the gate in the city wall. How he planned to get through the gate, Kylie had no idea, but when they reached the gate, the cloaked guard straightened and nodded to Robert.

“All clear, sir?”

“Yes, thanks.” Robert glanced from Kylie to the guard. “Marian, this is Will Scarlet. I think you’ve met before?”

“Oh,” she said vaguely, “yes, I think so.” Luke was Will Scarlet, anyway, and she’d known him since he was born.

“Pleasure,” Will said, then turned back to Robert. “What should I do with the guard?”

“Lock him up somewhere, will you? The sheriff might be more merciful if the poor man looks like he put up a fight. He wasn’t a bad sort, really,” Robert added to Kylie, “only a coward.”

She nodded with what she hoped was an air of wisdom, and followed him out of the city into the moonlit forest. They walked in silence down the road, cutting into the trees after a few minutes. Half a mile out of the city, Robert turned to Kylie and asked,“What’s going on?”

She blinked at him. “With what?”

“The story,” he said patiently. “Authors don’t typically visit unless it’s necessary.”

“Oh,” Kylie managed to say, folding her hands behind her back so she could pinch her arm without his noticing. A sharp pain shot into her wrist—but the dream didn’t disappear. Maybe she was only pinching her dream self, not her actual body?

Robert studied her face for a moment, then chuckled. A strange warmth built within her at the sound—a warmth distinct from the heat of jealousy, and yet somehow like it. “First things first—what’s your actual name?”

“Kylie,” she said a little foolishly.

He nodded. “And you’re Joyce’s daughter?”

“Granddaughter.” Kylie frowned at him. “You knew my grandmother?”

Robert’s expression turned serious. “Of course I did. She created this world.”

His words brought Kylie’s senses to heightened awareness: suddenly she was conscious of the rocky ground pressing through her socks, of the mingled scents of smoke and earth on the wind, of every line of Robert’s face. “What do you mean, created it?”

“Just what I say.” Robert smiled again, dryly this time. “You humans work so hard to pretend fiction is real—and yet you’re always surprised when you find it is.”

“But you’re not real.” Kylie’s mind was spinning, and she anchored herself on one secure point: “You said so yourself. My grandmother created you.”

“God created you,” he said with infuriating logic. “Does that mean you’re not real?”

“Well—of course not.” She folded her arms, trying to regain some semblance of dignity. After all, between the two of them, she wasn’t the one who was fictional. “But God is the only one who can create like that. I’m just human.”

“But He made you to create too, Kylie.” Robert’s eyes were suddenly tender.

Kylie glanced away, shoving her hands in her pockets. “How do you know all this, anyway?”

She looked back up in time to see him shrug. “You know you have a Creator. That knowledge is built into you. It’s like that for us.”

“You act real,” Kylie mumbled. She didn’t want to admit even to herself how desperately she wished he were… 

Robert chuckled again, and her stomach fluttered. “You have your own imagination to thank for that. All good characters act like people, your grandmother said. Somewhat simplified people, but people nonetheless.”

More to prolong the conversation than from actual curiosity, Kylie asked, “Does that bother you? That you’re…just a simplified person?”

He looked surprised. “Why should it?”

Kylie looked down again, her cheeks burning. He was perfectly content being fictional—and she was upset because she was single? “I don’t know, I just…it would bother me, that’s all.”

“That’s because you were made for something else.” Robert’s hand came to rest on her shoulder, gentle but firm. “Of course, not everyone is content, no more than all humans. But the ones who aren’t? They usually end up the villains.”

Kylie bit her lip—it was already raw from all the chewing she’d been doing lately. “But what if…what if the author makes a mistake? Doesn’t that ever happen?”

“You’re not asking about authors, are you?”

Robert’s tone was gentle, and Kylie’s throat swelled. She swallowed hard, forcing down the tears. She’d already cried enough for one night. “I just…I don’t understand. I don’t know if I’m doing something wrong—or if there’s something wrong with me. Allison is marrying the first guy she ever dated—and he’s not the only one who was interested. Sometimes it just feels like when God was matchmaking, he forgot about me.”

For a moment, Robert was silent. Heat flooded Kylie’s cheeks as she realized how transparent she’d just been with a stranger—not to mention a guy. It wasn’t like it would change anything, anyway. Robert would just come up with some overused phrase about it not being Kylie’s time yet and that happy ending still being in store for her.

But real life wasn’t that easy. It wasn’t always tied up with a perfect bow, the happy ending waiting just over the horizon. It wasn’t the waiting that scared her. It was wondering whether there was anything worth waiting for.

“You know,” Robert said finally, “I never really wanted to be an outlaw.”

That wasn’t what Kylie had expected, and she looked up with sudden curiosity. “You didn’t?”

“No.” With a faint smile, he broke a small branch off the closest tree and absently began to shred the leaves. “I would have been quite content as the Earl of Huntingdon. The food was better, for one thing.”

Serious as the conversation was, Kylie couldn’t quite keep back a giggle.

Robert grinned, looking up at her. “Really, it was. But Joyce had other ideas. I’ll admit I wasn’t too keen on it at first. But I think it’s turned out for the best.”

“The food?”

He gave her a mock glare. “Don’t be flippant. Food is far too important to joke about.” 

Kylie laughed again. “All right, then. But…you were saying?”

Robert’s smile faded into a more serious expression. “I only meant that the author is usually better at planning the story than the characters. That doesn’t mean I liked it at the time. Sometimes I still don’t like it. But…I also trust Joyce. There’s a reason she wrote the story this way.”

“Because of historical precedent,” Kylie interrupted. “That’s how the legend of Robin Hood goes. She had to write it that way.”

“No, she didn’t,” he said frankly. “She could have changed it if she wanted to. But she chose to follow tradition, and I trust she had good reason. I could waste time wishing my story had been different—or I can choose to accept it as it is, the good parts and the bad.”

“Am I being lectured by a story?”

Robert’s grin was swift. “What did you think fictional characters were for? Entertainment?” 

“Yes,” she muttered, but aloud she said, “How long can I stay here? In your world, I mean.” 

His eyebrows went up. “Don’t you want to go home?”

“I…I don’t know.”

Kylie squirmed under the mingled tenderness and pity in Robert’s eyes as he reached to take her hands. “Kylie, your story was written this way for a reason. I’m not saying that makes it any easier—but it’s no accident that it’s Allison’s wedding this week and not yours. Even what happened with Alex, that wasn’t an accident.”

Kylie looked up at him, her cheeks burning. “How do you know—”

“I live in your head.” Robert gave her a mischievous smile. “It’s hard to keep things from me.”

Exhaling, she pulled her hands free and folded her arms. “Fiction is so much easier than real life.”

Robert made a wry face. “Maybe for the reader. But I doubt that anything worth having is easy.”

“Very comforting,” she muttered.

He paused, and it was a moment before he said, “Look, Kylie, I can’t promise your story will end the way you want it to. But I do know it’s going to be a good ending. So are you going to put the book down in the middle? Or will you stick it out to the end?”

Kylie wanted to laugh at the irony of a fictional character lecturing her on duty, but she knew he was right. For a moment, she was silent. Then she said, “Fine. I’ll go back.”

Robert’s smile held a touch of sadness. “I don’t think you’ll regret it.” He plucked a pine cone from the closest tree, his smile tipping into a grin. “But as long as you’re here, would you like to see a little of Sherwood Forest?”

***

Kylie opened her eyes to find early morning sunlight spreading across the couch. Her face was smashed against her laptop, and pain shot through her neck as she slowly straightened. Apparently using one’s laptop as a pillow was bad for spine health—who would have thought?

Groggily, she tugged a hand through her tangled hair, trying to remember her dream—something about Robin Hood and Grandma Joyce, wasn’t it? Oh well, it didn’t matter anymore. Kylie set aside her laptop and slowly stretched, twisting her torso first one way and then the other until she’d remedied her stiff back as well as could be expected.

Now that she was sitting up, the glimmering lake was visible through the window. Beautiful as it was, it’d be more beautiful if she had someone to share it with—and illogically, Robert came to mind.

“Stop being ridiculous,” Kylie muttered. “He’s a fictional character. You can’t hide in books forever.” So instead of indulging in another daydream, Kylie dragged herself off the couch to make breakfast.

Cereal didn’t take long, and a few minutes later found Kylie wandering around the cabin looking for something to do. Her eyes landed on her laptop—still half open on the couch—and a little more of her dream came back to her. She’d fallen asleep while writing, hadn’t she? And of course the story had worked itself into the dream. That was all that happened.

But it was still a fascinating dream, and Kylie smiled as she settled onto the sagging couch cushions and reached for her laptop. The document she had started last night only held a few paragraphs, and those were hardly good writing, so she deleted them, shut her laptop, and headed outside. The soft wind from the lake and the birdsong in the trees made for the perfect writing atmosphere, and this time when Kylie began to write, the words came easily, weaving a story of the outlaw who wanted to be an earl and the sheriff who wanted him hanged.

Several pages were filled by the time Kylie set aside her laptop and got up to stretch. She smoothed her shirt as she sat back down, and her fingers encountered a bump in her jeans pocket. Frowning, she reached to see what it was, and pulled out a large pine cone.

Kylie stared at the pine cone, turning it over in her hands. Robert had given her a pine cone at the end of her dream—or was that just her imagination? Could it be possible that…?

No, that was ridiculous. Kylie sighed, shook her head, and replaced the pine cone in her pocket. She must have picked it up when she arrived at the cabin yesterday—even if she couldn’t remember it.

But a little smile tugged at her lips, and it didn’t disappear as she picked up her laptop and continued to write.

***

Two days later, Kylie pulled into the parking lot of Allison’s church, already half full with the cars of friends and family. A wave of humidity hit Kylie as she stepped out of her car, and she groaned, sweeping her hair into a ponytail to get it off her neck. She’d take cold North Shore nights over muggy southern Minnesota summers any day.

Ahead of her, a tall girl emerged from the church with a full trash bag slung over her shoulder, and Kylie frowned. “Allison?”

The girl turned, beaming as Kylie crossed the distance between them. “You’re here! I’d give you a hug, but I’m covered in sweat right now, not to mention carrying a garbage bag.”

Kylie laughed. “They’re making the bride take out the trash?”

“No, I begged them.” Allison made a wry face as she headed for the dumpster. “The AC’s out.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. It’ll be up and running for the wedding, but it’s not exactly pleasant in there right now. Anyway, one of your brother’s friends is coming to see what he can do, so I’m hoping it’ll be fixed by this afternoon so we can do the cupcake frosting. You brought the fake vines for the tables, right?”

“In my trunk. Want me to get them out?”

Allison swung open the dumpster lid, deposited the trash, and headed for Kylie’s car. “I’ll help.”

A truck entered the parking lot as the girls reached Kylie’s car, and Kylie turned towards it, shading her eyes with one hand. “Is that the HVAC guy?”

“Haven’t met him,” Allison said thoughtfully. “I wonder how old he is.”

“Allison!” Kylie elbowed her. “You’re getting married in five days!”

Allison turned to her, looking surprised. “I didn’t mean for me.”

“Well, you are not setting me up with the HVAC guy.”

“Oh, come on.” Allison grinned at Kylie. “It’s very chivalrous of him, coming out on a hot day like this.”

“It’s his job,” Kylie retorted, and turned back to the truck just in time to see the owner emerging. Her illogical heart skipped a beat—from her angle, he looked eerily like Robert had in her dream. Stop it, Kylie. You’re being ridiculous.

“Not quite elderly,” Allison said in an undertone.

“Stop it,” Kylie snapped as the man approached them, pasting on a smile for him. “Hello—you must be my brother’s friend?”

This close, he looked less like Robert—his hair a little lighter, his features not quite as perfect. But the friendliness of his smile was the same, and Kylie fought to control her pulse as he reached out to shake her hand. “Are you Kylie, then? Aaron’s told me about you.”

Oh, great. Leave it to her big brother to blab her love life all over the place. “Yes, Kylie’s me. I mean, I’m Kylie. And you are…?”

“Oh dear,” Allison interrupted, “I just realized I left a five-year-old in charge of setting out silverware. Excuse me, I’d better go check on him. Kylie, can you show him where everything is?”

“I don’t—” Kylie began, but Allison was already gone. Instead, she turned back to Aaron’s friend, shrugging. “I don’t know where everything is, but Aaron should. Would you like to go inside?”

“Sure—let me just grab a few things from my truck.” He stepped back, but then paused. “I’m sorry, I never did introduce myself, did I?”

Kylie shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. “I think Allison interrupted you.” He smiled, extending his hand again. “I’m Robert.”

Kylie couldn’t quite stop her mouth from dropping open, but she did shut it as quickly as possible.

That counted for something, right?

Robert’s smile faded, and he pulled back his hand. “Are you…all right?”

Kylie blinked, shaking her head. “No—I mean, yes, I’m perfectly fine. Thank you. I just…know someone named Robert, that’s all.” She smiled again—almost a grin, really. “Pleasure to meet you. Can I help you carry anything in?”

“I think I’ve got it—although I did bring a wedding gift for Jacob and Allison, so you might want to take that for me.” Robert turned back to his truck, and Kylie followed him. After a moment, he asked, “You’re in your junior year of college, right? Elementary education?”

She would need to have a talk with Aaron about dispensing personal information about his family members without their permission. “Yes, that’s right.”

Robert opened the truck door, rummaged for a moment, and turned around with a neatly wrapped box, which he handed to Kylie. “You enjoy teaching?”

“I do—at least, so far.” She watched with curiosity as he loaded an assortment of tools into a plastic tote.

“Aaron says you’re musical?”

“Occasionally. He’s the better pianist, though.”

Robert turned around, his eyebrows lifting. “Is he really? I’ll have to make him play sometime. Can you get the door for me?”

Kylie nodded, and as he lifted the tote and stepped away from the truck, she shut the door. They walked together towards the church—slowly, because of the tote. The silence felt uncomfortable, but every small-talk question seemed to have fled from Kylie’s mind, and she was relieved when Robert asked, “Any hobbies besides music?”

“I like reading, when I get the chance.” She adjusted her grip on Allison’s present, hoping her sweaty hands weren’t dissolving the tissue paper. “And…I’ve been thinking about writing lately.”

Robert glanced at her, expression curious. “Oh?”

“Yeah. I dabbled in it a little when I was younger” —why were her hands so sweaty?— “but it’s been awhile. I picked up some old things last weekend, though. My grandmother had two novels published—they weren’t bestsellers or anything, but they’re pretty good, I think.”

“What was her name?” 

“Joyce Nelson.”

“Hmm—I’ll have to see if I can find her books.”

Kylie gave a nervous laugh, more to fill the silence than for any other reason. “She left an unfinished manuscript when she died. It was about Robin Hood—more fantasy than historical fiction, I think. I found some of her notes when we were cleaning out her house. I’ve been thinking about finishing it for her.”

For a moment, Robert was quiet, and she wondered if she had said something wrong. But instead, as they neared the church and passed through the propped-open door, he just said, “Let me know if you ever do—I’d like to read that.”

Kylie tried and utterly failed to suppress a grin, even as she stepped into the heavy air of the church and a fresh round of perspiration sprang up on her skin. Ahead of her, Aaron was greeting Robert, and Allison was attempting to give her sisters flower arranging directions with a toddler clinging to her legs. Jacob scooped up the toddler and approached Kylie with a smile.

“Hey, Kylie. How was your weekend?”

Kylie’s eyes strayed to Robert’s back, but she pulled her attention back to Jacob. “Oh—it was good.” She couldn’t help it—her eyes darted back to Robert. Oh, she was being ridiculous—she’d known him for all of five minutes—but she still couldn’t help thinking that maybe the fictional Robert was right. She did have a happy ending coming, even if it wasn’t the one she was expecting… 

“I see you’ve met Robert,” Jacob said with a note of amusement in his voice.

Kylie whipped back to face him, her cheeks burning. “Oh—he was just looking for the furnace and things, I think. But Aaron’s helping him.”

“I see,” Jacob said with mock seriousness. “Well, I’d better go see if Allison needs anything. And Kylie, why don’t you go with Aaron and Robert? An extra pair of hands never hurts.”

With that, Jacob walked away, and Kylie stared after him, unsure if she should be offended by his interference, not to mention Allison’s—and Aaron’s, for that matter!

On the other hand, they might be right.

And if they weren’t? Well, it was just another plot twist.

Unable to keep back a smile, Kylie walked over to where Aaron and Robert stood talking. Aaron was saying something incomprehensible about air ducts, but he stopped when he saw her, smiling.

“Hey, Ky. Have a good trip?”

“Yeah,” she said a little breathlessly. “I’ll tell you about it later. But for now, I was wondering…well, it’s not that I know anything about air conditioners, but…well, if you needed anything, I’d be more than happy to help.”

Grace MacPherson

Grace MacPherson is the author of the fantasy novels The King’s Sword (middle grade) and Domitian (young adult). You can read more about her at authorgracemacpherson.com, where she posts free short stories and blogs about writing, literature, and philosophy.