A Key and a Promise

Footprints in the Snow

Marie Vasquez distinctly remembered the ambiance of the town square the morning she lost Jonas Vogt. In the hours just before lunchtime, independent shops bustled with neighbors who simply could not wait until after lunch to get their to-do lists checked and done. Horses pulled carriages of tourists who found the city much too crowded to walk the sidewalks on their own suburban feet. Snow settled on the intricate detailing of the streetlights, the shiny rooftops of the buggies, and everything in sight.

The twenty-minute walk to the woods didn't feel as laborious as it usually did. However, later that day, she would be reminded of how grand the square truly was.

By the time she reached the cabin, Jonas was already there to open the door. It was no surprise really, but the snow still melting in his light brown hair told her he hadn't gotten there much earlier than she did. She harrumphed as she stepped past the boy, pushed back the hood of her jacket, and then threw herself on the couch.

There was no other place she felt more at home than on that couch, a couch that was technically the Vogt's. It wasn't that her parents were too busy working to acknowledge her or anything of that sort. She often joined her mother at work while she was at the Vogt's loft. Marie simply loved the spice of the cinnamon-scented pinecones in the glass cylinder, the golden glow of the stone fireplace, and the spread of newspapers and books on the coffee table.

"You look silly sitting like that," Jonas commented, not at all deterred by her Marie-ness, as he shut the door. "The truth is, you're not—"

Marie glanced over at him and put her hand up to stop him. She knew what he was going to say. She wasn't tall enough to take up the entire couch like she was supposed to if she wanted to kick her feet up properly like Jonas's dad did.

"Oh, come on, Marie. Why aren't you talking to me this time?" His voice had the lilt of a tease to it.

She gave him a pointed look. Her brown eyes were not wide cauldrons of melting chocolate. No, they were the eyes of a twelve-year-old who knew how to get what she wanted. Whether or not it was from homeschooled boys, it didn't matter.

He plopped onto the couch with a lopsided grin on his face. His head was just inches from where her wet boots were kicked up, but she didn't budge. Jonas, taking it as a sign she wasn't up for his fun, sighed. "Sorry?" he offered.

Marie sat upright and made room for the boy. "Thank you," she said in a tone that suggested she actually cared for an apology. As he made himself comfortable on the couch, she suppressed a smile. "You came as soon as it started snowing, didn't you?"

"I was already in the woods." He leaned closer to Marie and looked behind her as he said in a low and serious voice, "I saw something last night. From the loft. It reminded me of the Northern Lights, except it was the color of fire and smoke."

She studied his face as she decided how to feel. Slowly, the corners of his lips brought themselves into a grin. She made a noise of annoyance and looked away, embarrassed that she had believed a word. When she felt his hand on her wrist, she was still chastising herself for thinking something was out there and waiting to get them.

"No, really," he said, but Marie was already pulling away. "I saw it." The words were soft.

Marie looked out the nearest window. "It's not snowing very hard, is it?" She thought, pulling her dark thick hair out from under her scarf as she did so. "What do you think about popcorn and hot chocolate?"