"I'm gonna leave it on my dining table. He snoops in all my things so if he sees you're giving me presents, particularly a Bible, it'll only add to the mystery of our relationship. He was quite baffled when I stepped off that elevator with you." She smiled proudly.

I wrote what she said, but told her, "This was my mother Julep's Bible. I want it back."

Everly stuck the Bible in her backpack. "I promise you'll get it back."

That same stillness blanketed over us, but it was a fork in the road this time, not a loop. I knew my feet needed to go one way and she needed to another, but the tether was too tight around us. My hope wondered if that meant she wanted to stay just as much as I did, and that was a stupid thing to do, because there was only one reason she needed me, and it had nothing to do with invisible cords and pulls. I looked her over and wondered about all her layers. The ones I could see hanging on her shoulders and around her waist in colorful fabrics. The ones hidden underneath her skin and safely away from the world. A part of me hated the secrets in that moment. I wished I could have reached over and magically washed away the charade with one wave of my hand. But most of all, I didn't want her to leave.

"Here's a dumb question," I said, nodded to her hair, "Is that color natural?"

"Not at all." She answered, "I was born blonde." I couldn't help my stare, and she rolled her shoulders in discomfort. "Do you like my new dress? It was a gift from Merriam Webster."

My lips soured. "That's a dictionary."

Everly shrugged. "I thought it was pretty nice."

I played along, even though I didn't understand the game. "Why would this person give you her clothes?"

"She died. I used to talk to her at church. She was how I learned about hope."

"I'm just gonna leap and guess she taught you a lot of the devious wisdom you own."

Everly looked up at me. "You see-you do listen. That's another thing I like about you. That and your crease."

"I have a crease?"

"Yeah," She thumbed my glabella, "Right there when I get under your skin. Sometimes I try to frustrate you on purpose just so I can see it."

Her smile was too much. Her thumb was too much. I inched backward. "I think I should get going. My shift at the hospital starts soon."

"Yeah."

I didn't say anything else, but Everly did. My name from her lips caused me to turn around. "You really are my favorite."

"Don't go giving out awards yet. I haven't done anything."

"But you have," Everly argued. "You've given me hope."

This Was Not a Home A sturdy pile of bricks. A proud American flag. Two stories of earned success. That was the greeting outside of the Brighton home.

The Saturday I knocked to ask Timothy the question that would lead to one of the most important adventures of my life, I found myself entering a whole new world once I stepped through the front door.

Their housekeeper led me into the foyer and told me to wait. As she disappeared up the staircase I took one step that lead to three, and then too many to keep myself out of trouble.

I searched to find a picture of Everly as a child, to see Timothy with his daughter unmasked, but nothing. Every wall in the house was bare, not a single portrait, not even a piece of art. As I took it all in, the living room, the foyer, hallways in between rooms, I realized what I was seeing. This was not a home - this was a well-orchestrated production of how to keep someone alive.

Where most normal homes would showcase wood, carpet or tile as flooring, Timothy Brighton's home had rubber. No rugs to trip over. No sharp edges on furniture.

Sterile.

A locked box around the thermostat.

Charts on the fridge keeping logs of Everly's eating times, what nurse was on duty, supplements to be given, appointments to be kept.

Not a single speck of dust or anything out of alignment.

And the oddest of all- sticker-like temperature gauges on nearly everything in the kitchen.

"Is there a reason why you're snooping through my house, Mr. Trovatto?" His voice surprised me from the doorway of the kitchen. In his hand he held a dark green coffee mug. As I scrambled for words he slurped a long sip.

"Just looking for Everly."

"Are your eyes working today?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Then you can see Everly is not in this room."

"I meant I wanted to see a picture of Everly as a child, so I went looking around as I waited for you. That's all, Sir."