In the Forest

  “Listen—”

 “You are an absolute fool, Donely Scout. And absolute, incredible fool.”

 “Ah, you just gotta hear me out, Betty!” She’s heard enough though, and storms off in the opposite direction. A damn fool he is. 

 “It’ll be fun!” He calls after her, jogging to catch up. Dreary January had begun its metamorphosis into a beautiful spring. It was uncommon for that time of year. Usually the hard winter had hold for at least another few weeks. She doesn’t mind though, as she always preferred the flowers of spring. Donely had always preferred the rain. 

 “Please, Betty.” He had caught up to her swiftly, using the unfair advantage of long legs. It isn’t fair, she thinks. I used to be the tall one. 

 But somewhere between the fall and spring seasons of their freshman year, she wasn’t the tall one anymore. One growth-spurt was all it took for him to catch up to her, and the new height difference is still unfamiliar. 

 A hand reaches out to her arm, warm and certain and familiar. In a world that is never the same day by day, he is her constant, her lifeline. A small part of her knows that he will always be. 

 “Don’t be stupid Donely. And don’t you make me chase after you either, because I’m having none of it.” Most of the trees had long died for the season in the bitter winter of 1946, but not the trees of the forest that loomed before them. Those trees were made to withstand this weather, unlike Betty. Even her thick coat and wool gloves don’t stop the pink flush on her skin from the cold. Already, she can feel the tips of her toes lose feeling. Donely was a stupid boy, but a boy nonetheless. She wonders how much of his actions she can chalk up to that fact alone. 

 But he traps her with a boyish grin, and secures the lock on her cage with the flutter of his eyes. Donely was not a boy un-used to getting his way. He knew how to wield his charm and looks, and boy did he ever. Betty knows all his tricks. The smile, the eyes, the tilt of his head, all of them. Even as a boy, he knew how to use his looks. But Betty is perhaps the only person who really knew him before that, before the charm and looks set in, and she’ll still know him to his core after they’re gone. His beauty is fleeting, but he didn’t know, and she didn’t want to tell him. For now, she only appreciates them while they last. While Betty knew all of his tricks, she wasn’t invincible to them. They can lure her in as easy as anyone, but she doesn’t go unsuspecting. She knows what she’s getting in to. 

 “You don’t know what’s in there.”

 “Why don’t we find out?” Donely knows what to say, and he knows when he takes her hand, she’ll follow. Everything about the forest makes everything inside of her scream in protest, but the words die on her tongue. Donely hasn’t let anything happen to her yet, and he promised to keep her safe for the rest of her life. It was a promise made on the floor of a treehouse as children, but one she’s never forgotten. 

 He knows he’s won. He always wins. Still, he’s gracious enough to not gloat. He leads, but never walks too far ahead, and never let’s go of her hand. 

 Until he does. 

 “Donely?” Betty calls out, knowing the foolish boy isn’t above messing with her. “Donely! Stop hiding this instant.”

 Her answer only comes from the birds. 

 “Fine! I’ll find my own way back! But just you wait, I’m going to kill you!” She huffs and stomps a foot on the ground, wearing her bravado as a shield against her growing fear. When she turns to walk back, she realizes very quickly that she doesn’t know where back is. 

 “I’m going to kill that boy if it’s the last thing I do,” she mutters too herself. Suddenly very aware of Donely’s absence, everything around her comes into focus. Every sound is something bigger and scarier than the last. The distant breaking of a stick is a panther, hiding in the shadows to eat her. She isn’t sure if there are panthers in these parts, but she is sure she doesn’t want to find out. 

 “Betty?” She couldn’t shake the fantasy of the boy, Donely, her love. Where is he?

 “Grandma?” Someone else squeezes her hand, someone small with skin as smooth as silk and a voice as sweet as honey. It is familiar, but not. A distant memory she can’t seem to grasp. What she is acutely aware of is that she’s not cold anymore, but Donely’s no where near to warm her. She’d know if he was. Where is that boy? I’m going to kill him for leaving me again. 

 A soft kiss is planted on her cheek, but not from Donely. She’d know if it was. She could tell his touch, his kiss, from a million others. Her Donely. Maybe he was lost in the woods somewhere’s. Maybe she’d have to be the one to find him. I’m always having to save that boy. 

 She’d save him a million times. So she allows herself to slip away, back into the forest, back to her Donely. 

 “Betty! Where’d you go?”

 “Where’d you go?” She echos back, surprised to see him. He looks the same, but older now. He’s traded his winter coat for a military-grade jacket. Had Donely grown up while she was gone?

 No, because she’s now grown too. Not in the same way he is, but much older. Her hands are wrinkled by time. 

 “I’ve always been here.” His voice is deeper now too, akin to the notes of a cello. “I’m glad you’re here too now.”

 She isn’t sure what he means, yet she knows exactly what she must do. When he extends a hand to her, he’s wearing the same boyish grin that’s always got to her. When she accepts, the skin of her hand smooths. She feels her youth returning, the color of her hair and cheeks, the slow receding of old aches. 

 “You left me,” she states. It’s not an accusation; it’s a fact. 

 “I know. I’m sorry Betty. I never wanted to.” He pulls her close, their foreheads touching. “Can you forgive me?” He shoots her a wink and a dimpled smile, and she’s sold. 

 “You’re forgiven.” She forgave him because she knew he’d never leave her again. They had finally found their way back to each other, and they were home.