Heart's Gift

He reached the lake just before sunset. The bronze-colored sun hovered above the horizon, casting a brilliant path of white light on the water. On that path, far out from shore, he saw a figure walking due west.

A wild joy infused his limbs; he was not yet too late. Heart pounding, he fixed his eyes on her figure and stepped out onto the surface of the water. It yielded only slightly to his weight, enough to soak through his shoes. But he didn't sink.

Elated, he began to run, wonder spurring him on so he moved much faster than he ever had on land. How long he ran didn't seem to matter; he wasn't even winded when he caught up to her. She turned, mouth open, to stare at his arrival with astonishment and fear.

Triumphantly, he grasped her hand and cried, "I caught you!"

"You shouldn't have followed me!" she said. "Go back. Now!"

The fury in her tone stalled his celebration, and he frowned. "But I caught you before you reached the Otherlands." He gave his head a small shake, knowing that she, of all people, shouldn't need to be told the rules. Somehow he found himself unable to refrain from explaining anyway. "You must grant me a wish, and I wish for you to stay." Quickly he added, "We love each other. You are meant to stay."

"I don't want to stay," she said.

Her rejection took him utterly by surprise. "I don't believe you. How can you say that?"

She turned her face away from him. "Just go back."

"Not without you." He swallowed anxiously, trying to remember what had made him think she wanted him to come after her. This wasn't the reaction he expected. "I caught you and you're going to stay."

She looked him steadily in the eye. "You don't even know what you're asking of me, what the consequences of my remaining here would be. My people are dying. I have to return to them."

"But...I don't understand. Can't you come back?"

"Once I leave, I can't return. We can only visit once. The crossing isn't possible again."

Anger overpowered all his other emotions. "What was it all for, then?" he demanded. "Why did you put so much effort into enthralling me if you were just going to walk away without even saying goodbye? It's some sort of game for you people, isn't it? You enjoy toying with us, laughing at our pathetic hopes, playing with our hearts and feelings for sport!"

Something flashed across her face, something that stilled his rapidly beating heart. She spoke in a firm voice. "No part of this was a game."

"Then why do you look so guilty?"

She averted her eyes.

Disgusted, he worked to collect his thoughts. "My great grandmother used to tell me fairy stories," he said. "I remember bits and pieces, enough that it all made sense: your refusal to tell me your name or where you came from, the way your eyes shine in the moonlight, the ephemeral quality of your very presence." He glowered. "I should have remembered all the warnings."

"I didn't want you to follow me," she said quietly. "I didn't even know you could. Mortals aren't supposed to be able to walk on the sunlight." Her face softened as she gazed at him. "You are nothing like they told me you would be."

The sun had become a defined red ball, its distance from the horizon shrinking with each passing moment. They stood together, equidistant from land and star. The path blazed around them, a brilliant orange swath rippling across the surface of the water.

"Release me," she pleaded.

"Take your hand away," he countered.

Her fingers rested lightly against his, comfortably fitting the contours of his palm. She waited silently, watching his face as he wrestled with his frailty. He wanted to hate her and couldn't, despite her lies, despite the way she'd cheapened his devotion. He understood the stakes, or thought he did, at least. If he held her, she must stay, but he would be holding her against her will. If he let her go, he would never see her again, and from the expression on her face, he felt sure that this would hurt her just as much as remaining with him.

In the distance the sun dipped lower and lower, approaching the water. The grew infinitely smaller, a drawing together of earth and sky until, suddenly, they merged.

He released her hand.

She did not flee into the sun as he thought she would. Instead, she drew a long, deep breath. "We might make it," she said grimly. "Run."

Together they raced the sunset, splashing and gasping, hands clasped tightly as they ran. More difficult than trying to walk in sand, their feet kept sinking and slipping. The angle of sunlight flattened, erasing the path on the far side of the waves, so they had to leap with each step. Falling, stumbling, they made desperate progress toward shore.

Behind them the sun slid gently into the water, disappearing bit by bit until only a glowing sliver remained. They were still very far from shore when it finally disappeared. The path of light hovered a moment more, then broke apart and faded, plunging them into the deep, cold water.

They surfaced and began to swim with steady strokes, aiming for the bobbing line of trees and houses only a hundred feet away. Yet despite their efforts, the shore moved no closer. "The current..." he panted.

"Keep swimming!"

They stopped speaking, saving their strength. The insidious current worked against them, bearing them north and away from shore.

As the shadows lengthened and twilight fell, he realized the current had won. In another minute or so, they would be swept past the point and into a treacherous channel between the North and South Bear Islands, both uninhabited. Beyond them lay open water, wide and deep. During the day, they might have had a chance, as boats and fishing skiffs sailed up and down the shore, and the coast guard flew by at least once every afternoon. But now, with night falling steadily, they couldn't even aim for one of the islands in the dark.

He swam closer to her, treading water with one hand as he brushed hair from her face. "I think this is it," he panted softly, and she nodded.

"I'm exhausted. I just can't swim anymore."

"You should have gone," he said, angry at himself for waiting so long to release her. "I wish I'd never followed you."

They clung to each other, floating in the current and shivering. "I can tell you my name now," she whispered.

Something about fairy names tickled the back of his consciousness, but he couldn't quite remember what. "Only if you want to. It binds you to me, right?"

"We are already bound," she assured him. "Iriani S'Eiree."

"Iriani," he repeated, rolling the beautiful sound across his tongue. Whether it had magic in it, he couldn't tell, but the trust she showed by revealing it to him tied his heart even more securely to hers.

All was darkness now, his senses filled by the slap of the waves, the sound of her ragged breathing, and the penetrating cold. His feet had gone numb long ago, and he kept slipping down into the water and having to tread faster to keep his head clear. "I'm getting tired."

"Don't speak, my love. Hold on as long as you can."

He fell silent, but in his heart he knew it was hopeless. They couldn't tread water till morning. People had been known to survive in water up to 18 hours, but not water this cold, and not without anything to hold onto. The darkness seemed to seep into his mind, muffling his thoughts. Her breathing grew slower, more ragged, and realized they were both hanging on by a thread.

In the distance he heard a boat motor, and wished idly that it would come their way. He knew it couldn't; no sober driver would take a boat toward the channel at this hour, but as he listened the motor grew incrementally louder. Impossible, and yet...A triangle of wavering lights appeared to their right, approaching slowly. It couldn't come all the way to their position. Surely it would turn and hug the shoreline any moment, taking their last hope away. It didn't. It came on steadily as though making course right for them. And within a few minutes, he was hollering with the last of his strength, laughing and screaming his thanks to the universe as the boat idled to a stop and the driver threw out a float on a line.

An hour later, the boater's name and address on a note in his borrowed pants pocket, Chris stood waving goodbye, his feed solidly on shore. His other arm held up the rough blanket wrapped around the shoulders of a shivering Iriani. "What are the odds?" he marveled. They crossed the beach, heading back to the walkway that led to his home.

She simply smiled, then reached up a hand and drew his face down to meet hers. "I am very glad to have my life to live with you."

But as he held his back door open, he saw her cast a long, anxious look into the darkness toward the water.

"Are you worried about your people?" he asked.

"Someone else will find what they need," she answered slowly. "I'm more worried about us. What I've done...it's not forbidden, but they will be very angry with me."

He followed her gaze. "What can they do?"

"I don't know. But I think we should make the most of the days we have, and live each one as though we will not get another."

"That's good advice for anyone," he agreed, then led her over the threshold and inside.