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to joke. “I don’t usually do wound treatment. But considering I caused this bit of trouble, I’m obliged to help you.”

      “Thanks,” he said smiling.

      “So what do you hope to learn, Rolland?”

      “How to cook. Add numbers.”

      “Like nine plus seven?”

      “That’s going to take me a few minutes. Write numbers. I recognize it’s a number, but I can’t write it for anything.”

      “The alphabet.” Melanie listened as he recited the whole thing without stumbling. “Backwards.”

      “You’re kidding.”

      She smiled, surprised at herself. “Yes, I am. What else can you identify that you want to learn?”

      “I want to find out about my old life. Was I married? Did I have a family? Where are they? Did they look for me? I want to learn how to drive. I love cars.”

      “Well,” she said. “Some of those things are on my list, too. Learning how to use numbers so you can dial a phone and cook are very important.”

      “Do you use lists a lot?” he asked, gazing up at her.

      It occurred to Melanie that she didn’t have to stand over him and hold the ice pack. “Yes, for everything. It helps you stay on task and helps me track your progress. You don’t like lists? Here, hold this.”

      She guided his hand up to hold the ice pack and went back to her desk and sat. Feeling silly for leaving him on the couch alone, she took her pad and the contract she had every client sign.

      “Lists are fine, but you have to keep them in the right, what’s the word?”

      “Perspective?” she offered.

      “Right. Everything has a right perspective. So let’s get started. Am I going to learn how to cook first or drive?”

      She laughed. “No, but I was thinking, the most important thing for you is to always know your way home, right?”

      “I don’t know that I’ll ever find my home, Melanie.”

      Her heart pounded. “You—you will, Rolland, and you know, I’ve found, a home is wherever you make it. But first thing’s first. I’m giving you a contract and by tomorrow I want you to read it and sign it. If you don’t understand something, just ask me and I’ll explain it to you.”

      “I’ve got homework already, Melanie Wysh.”

      “That’s right. Now, here’s a compass. Let’s go get lost and find our way back. I just need to do one thing.”

      She went behind her desk and changed her pumps to sandals.

      Coming back to his side he looked down at her. “You’re short.”

      “Thanks, Rolland, that was honest.”

      “Was I supposed to lie?”

      She saw the confused look on his face. Bless his heart, he really didn’t know social rules. “No, you’re not supposed to lie, but you’re not supposed to say everything you think, either.”

      He towered above her by more than half a foot.

      “What are you thinking?” she asked.

      “I get what you’re saying. Shelby perspires like a man and some of the guys joke about it in the locker room. I’m not going to tell her.”

      Melanie laughed. “Good example. Don’t ever tell her. Now let’s go?”

      Rolland stepped outside and Melanie closed her door behind them. She pushed her sunglasses in place before joining Rolland and heading out into the sunny and breezy day.

      “I love the color of your hair.” He let his palm touch the spikes and smiled down at her.

      “Thank you, Rolland. Now, you know north, south, east, west, right?”

      He stopped at the intersecting sidewalk and shook his head. “The cafeteria is blue. The dorms are brick red. The gym roof is orange and rehab center is white. The administration offices are beige. If north isn’t a color, you have to tell me where it is.”

      Even though she had on her sunglasses, Melanie had to lean backward to use her hand to shade her eyes because Rolland was so tall. “Okay, this is a compass. North faces the sun. Anywhere in the world. North always faces the sun.” She showed him the compass in her hand and looked at his, but they weren’t reading the same.

      “Hold on a second.” She took his and shook it. “Yours is broken.”

      “You trying to get me lost already?”

      “No,” she said, banging on the instrument. She stopped hitting it. “Rolland, don’t follow my bad example. Hitting something never makes it work.”

      He laughed. “If you say so. We’ll just have to use yours.”

      “Okay,” she said, more softly than she intended. Clearing her throat, she held her compass out and the needle pointed north. “We’re facing north. Behind us is south. To our left is west and to our right is east. Okay, let’s walk west. Which way is west, Rolland?”

      “Right,” he said and stepped on her foot.

      “No,” she yelled too late.

      “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean that. Okay, let’s try it again. West is left and we’re going left,” he sang and walked to his right.

      Melanie screamed when he stepped on her foot the second time.

      Rolland jumped, and she slammed her hand over her mouth.

      Neither of them moved.

      Other people around them stopped and Melanie waved them away. She was going to recover.

      “You scared me,” he said.

      “You hurt me.”

      “I didn’t mean to.”

      “I know, Rolland. I’m sorry for scaring you.” She reached out but didn’t touch him. “Let’s try tomorrow. I’ve got an idea of how we can get this perfect tomorrow, okay?”

      “Okay,” he said, not looking at her.

      “I’m fine, Rolland, really.”

      “Don’t lie to me, Melanie. If you lie, I can’t trust you.”

      “I’m not lying. I promise.”

      “Yes, you are. Your toes are bleeding,” he said, and walked away.

      She saw that they were and wished she could take back the words.

      Chapter Three

      Rolland sat outside his dorm, sunset streaking the sky in blues and mauve. He looked at the book in his hand to verify the color he was witnessing. Yes, it was mauve. Left of pink and right of rose, it was beautiful and calming. He leaned his head back and let the breeze dust his neck in coolness before he sat back up and looked straight at Melanie Wysh.

      “Melanie.”

      “I owe you an apology, Rolland. May I sit down?”

      He moved over on the swing and made room for her. “Do you like to swing?” he asked, pushing it with his foot.

      “I do. I haven’t in a long time,” she told him. “I have something to say.”

      “Then you have to swing for a few minutes. You’ll enjoy it. Put your head back like this.”

      Rolland pulled Melanie’s head back just as a happy breeze floated by.

      They sat this way for a few minutes and it gave him time to study Melanie undisturbed. She was a tiny woman, no more than a hundred and fifteen pounds, and if she was

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