“I lifted the latch, and there he stood, dark and tall, the scholar's gown falling from his shoulders like the cloak of the Black Knight in the old tale. His arms were laden with boughs of apple blossom. He lifted a branch, high over my head, and shook it, so that the petals showered me, releasing a heady scent that promised spring.”

“You’re like the fresh air from an orchard in spring, he shook his head, his long bangs falling over his right eye, I am darkness.”

“Has he come armed, then?” she asked anxiously. “Has he brought a pistol or a sword?”Ian shook his head, his dark hair lifting wildly in the wind.“Oh, no, Mam!” he said. “It’s worse. He’s brought a lawyer!”

“Sometimes the children asked Eddie to lift them over his head, and when Eddie complied, he saw the mothers' sad smiles: He guessed it was the right lift but the wrong pair of arms.”

“Death watched me, amusement once again lifting to his dark eyes. Unlike me with my bedraggled clothes and knotted hair, he looked good in the morning light streaming into my apartment. Okay, actually, he looked exactly the same as when I’d first seen him when I was five years old, but recently I’d come to appreciate the way his black T-shirt pulled tight over the expanse of his shoulders and his faded jeans hugged his ass. Not that I was looking, of course. I mean, he was Death.”

“He lifted me up and held me close against him, my head on his shoulder. At that moment I loved him. In the morning light he was as golden, as soft, as gentle as myself, and he would protect me.”