Free Winter's Child by Cameron Dokey Page A

my old rooms and would care for the rooftop garden in my absence. This suited both Herre Johannes and my landlord well.
    Oma’s garden had made our building famous. My landlord never lacked for tenants, even when times were hard. Standing on the rooftop now, I felt my first pang of regret. The rooftop garden was the one thing I would be sorry to leave behind.
    “I’d be happier if I knew where you were going,” Herre Johannes continued.

    “That makes two of us,” I said. I caught the worried expression on Herre Johannes’s kind and wrinkled face and bit down on the tip of my tongue.
    I am going to miss him, too, I thought. Strangely, it made me feel better to know that I would miss not simply a place, which could not miss me back, but a living, beating heart of flesh and blood.
    I placed what I hoped was a comforting hand on Herre Johannes’s arm.
    “I spoke without thinking, Herre Johannes,” I said. “I’m sorry. I have thought about what I’m doing, honestly.”
    But I hadn’t been truthful with Herre Johannes, not entirely. I’d let him believe the obvious, that Kai had gone off in a huff following a sweethearts’ quarrel. I kept to myself the knowledge that he’d actually chosen to do something much more dangerous and difficult than that: He was walking the path of the Winter Child.
    Herre Johannes reached to give my hand a pat, and I dropped my arm. He rubbed one set of knuckles against the stubble on his chin. It made a rough and scratchy sound.
    “You’ve been dreaming of striking out into the world for a good long while, I think,” he said.
    It was all I could do to keep my mouth from dropping open. Something of my struggle must have shown in my face, for Herre Johannes gave a chuckle. I laughed too, as I shook my head.
    “Was it so obvious?”
    “To someone who sees only the outside of you,no,” he answered promptly. “But for anyone able to catch a glimpse of the inside of you ...”
    He broke off for a moment, gazing over my shoulder. It came to me suddenly that Herre Johannes was doing what I always had done when I came to the rooftop: He was gazing into the distance, his eyes seeking out the horizon.
    “I have known you for a long time, Grace,” he said. “I have watched you grow up, and your grandmother and I were good friends. I think, sometimes, that you are like the plants in her garden, always turning your face toward the sun.
    “But I want you to remember something,” Herre Johannes said, his eyes on my face now. “A plant needs to do more than stretch its leaves toward the sun. It also needs to send down roots deep into the ground. They hold on tightly in the dark, out of sight where it is easy to forget about them. But it is the fact that a plant can do these two things at once, anchoring itself to the earth even as it reaches for the sky, that makes it strong.
    “If the roots fail, the plant will die every time. Do you understand what I am trying to say?”
    “I think so.” I nodded. “You are trying to remind me not to get so consumed in what lies ahead that I forget about where I came from. You want me to remember to look both forward and back.”
    “There now,” Herre Johannes said, and he pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Your grandmother was right. She always said you were a smart one.”

    Not smart enough to keep Kai from leaving, I thought. Not smart enough to truly see him even though he’s spent his whole life standing at my side. Not so smart that I stopped myself from driving him away, straight into the arms of the Winter Child.
    But I did not say these things aloud. “I will never be as smart as you are,” I said as I put my arms around Herre Johannes and held on tight.
    Herre Johannes made a rumbling sound deep in his chest. “Yes, well,” he said. “It helps if you remember that I am very old.”
    “And your roots are strong,” I said as I let him go. I stepped back, the better to see his face in the fading light.
    “As are yours,” Herre