by Oakes, Tara
“That’s horrible! Do you still have a relationship with her?” I had a sneaky suspicion before that Will hadn’t lived an easy life. He’s now giving me confirmation of it.
His fingers close loosely around my upper arm, rubbing lightly as we speak intimately in the dark like this.
“She calls me on my birthday. I call her on Mother’s Day.”
My heart breaks for him. It’s a rude awakening sometimes to realize that not everyone has the type of relationship with their parents that I do.“How’d you end up here?”
His voice is monotone, near sleep. “Just kept driving east. I’d never really heard of this place other than in movies but it just felt right to turn off the highway as soon as I saw some signs. I drove through town and something just clicked. I felt more at home in the first few minutes here than I ever did back in Wisconsin. The longer I stayed and the more I explored, I just knew I’d been here before.”
I close my eyes and listen to the rich deep undertones of his past.
“I picked up a job working for a small construction crew and became an apprentice. Each day after work, on my way home, back to my crappy apartment, I’d stop by the field… your field. I knew I belonged there somehow.” He exhales deep. “Then one day, I just kept walking until I was on the other side of the meadow and then through the woods until I came upon a clearing on a hill. There was a tree at the top. I found myself shaking the second I saw it, but I kept going until I was right there touching it. And then… and then I remembered. I remembered everything as if it were yesterday.
“I remembered you, I remembered us, and I remember what Malcolm told me the night he took my life at the foot of that tree. So, I waited. Day after day and year after year until you came back.” He makes it sound like some fantastically romantic fairytale.
“Where is he, do you think?” I find myself thinking of Malcolm, the man who could possibly be my father, for the first time in any other capacity than a character in one of Will’s stories.
Will clears his throat. The deep grumbling is right near my ear. “Malcolm?”
I nod. He can’t see but I know he feels it in the dark.
“I have no idea and I’d like to keep it like that. If I had to guess, he’s probably lurking in the shadows somewhere still plotting to get his hands on the power of the triad.”
His words are cryptic but I believe them.
“Do you think he’ll come back here?” I’m curious about my potential sire, but from what I know about him so far, he’s not a person I would want to meet.
Will’s arms tighten around me. “As long as I live, he’ll never get close to you. I swear it.”
I love his protectiveness over me, but the fact that he feels the need to shield me so from Malcolm does little to change my perception of the man. He must be as terrible as I had feared he would be.
It’s windy out tonight. I can see the leaves dancing wildly through the bedroom window, casting elongated shadows on the opposite walls. Lying in nothing but one of Will’s oversized t-shirts and intertwining my legs among his hard, muscular limbs, I find myself unnaturally comfortable in his bed. Each subsequent night I find myself bonding more and more with this place.
I rummage through the recesses of my mind looking for the next question.
“Baby,” he whispers. “Sleep.”
I laugh quietly. “I have more questions.”
I can feel his body stretch as he gives the telltale signs of a yawn. My own follows immediately after.
“I know. And I have answers for you. Tomorrow, after we visit the tree, you’ll have the answers yourself. Get some sleep now.”
Sleep. Answers. I want them both.
Will’s made the decision.
Sleep comes first.
~*~
My eyes prove heavy, threatening to close. The earth around me is damp, the threadbare blanket I swaddle myself in is itself damp, doing almost nothing to keep the chill from penetrating deep into my body.
I huddle in the far corner, propping myself against the fat uneven stones on either side of me. There is no moon tonight, no shining of its light through the small hole of a window that is my only connection to the world outside.
Maman managed to smuggle a small sack of food through that opening when the guards were distracted. I tried to force myself to at least nibble at the bread but I hold out hope that I’ll be freed soon and could share the company of another during my meal.
Unlike those before me, I have no land, I have no coin. There is no reason for anyone to make a claim against me. I’ve practiced the restraint Maman has shown me. Other than William and Josephine, no other person knows of my skills, my magic lessons.
The news of the accusations against me were surely a misstep. At least that’s what I believed before the jail keepers came for me. Now that I lie in wait in this dungeon of a cell, I know I was wrong.
The nights are growing cold this time of year. The fire of our home hearth kept me warm last night, but tonight it is nothing but a memory.
Although I do not sleep, I know this unnatural hour is not for the living. I hear metal jingling from outside the heavy wooden door, the only entrance in and out of this place.
My body is weakened from the stress and fatigue of the last twenty-four hours. I hear the thudding footsteps approaching. I feel the clay-like earthen floor vibrate with the weight of the two men growing near.
“Be on your feet, witch,”the larger of the two commands.
I’ve known Mr. Masterson my whole life. His sons are very close to my age and the older one came to Maman one night looking for herbs to comfort his mother’s, this man’s wife’s, deathbed suffering.
Oh, how these people have turned so quickly at the fervor against me. I do not move quickly enough for them. My arms are grabbed roughly, pulling me to stand before them, where they proceed to shackle my wrists and ankles.
There is no court or magistrate that would summon me at this hour.
There is only one thing that could command my presence these hours before dawn.
The hanging tree.
~*~
The phone rattles on the nearby countertop, buzzing and vibrating with the incoming call.
“Hey, Court,”I answer guiltily. I’ve all but abandoned my two best friends. They seem to be sympathetic to my cause, but patience can only run so far.
“We’re gonna pack up your room and check out around noon. Are we going to have to leave you behind and forward your mail to Will’s house,”she asks sarcastically.“Or will you be leaving lover boy behind and join us in heading back to the real world?”
I had already packed a small bag of most of my things to bring with me to Will’s yesterday, so there won’t be much for the two of them to gather together.
“Thanks, guys. I appreciate it. We’ve just got something left to do and then I’ll make sure to call you.”I multitask by towel-drying my hair as I give a rundown of my morning itinerary to her.
“You didn’t mention if you’re staying or leaving.”
She’s right. I didn’t.
It hadn’t even seemed an option to make any plans regarding my future with or with out Will until we had some sort of answer to the question hanging over our heads.
“I’ll call you, Court.”
She laughs gently as I leave the conversation, resuming the wild rummaging of the towel through my locks. I wrap those same tresses deep into the fluffy folds of the thick towel and twist the loose end to hold itself in a quasi-turban.
Moose is lying on his back, belly-up, legs in the air directly in front of the bathroom door. I nearly trip on the large sleeping dog, leaving the steam-filled restroom behind.
“Sorry, boy,”I jump over him, skimming the tips of his paws with my feet. He huffs and rolls to his side.
Delicious aromas fill the rooms as I walk closer to the source. Will is scurrying in the kitchen, releasing the latch on the toaster while simultaneously removing a sizzling frying pan from the burner.
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“Perfect timing!” He tilts the pan over an empty plate, shimmying the golden yellow eggs to spill onto the ceramic.“Scrambled eggs, toast, and jam.”
“Coffee?” He left out the most important part. It’s simply not a complete breakfast without at least two cups.
He laughs hard while placing the empty pan into the deep sink. “Of course. Ground just the way you showed me.”
I purse my lips together, nodding approvingly while I take my plate from him. “I’m impressed.”
The coffee carafe sits on a square tiled coaster centered on the table, begging to be poured. His cup is filled first, before I move on to my own.
“Court called,” I tell him.
His eyebrow perks up, arching itself. “Have they put out an APB on you yet?”
I shut my eyes as I take the first sip, savoring the hot drink. Nothing beats the first sip. “We’re supposed to go home this afternoon.”
He hears me, I know he does, but he says nothing. The slice of toast that he’s spreading a healthy smear of butter on is the only thing he’s acknowledging at the moment.
“I’m supposed to meet them back at the hotel,” I try again.
He has to answer now. “Umm hmm. I remember. We’ll figure it out. If you want to go back, then I’ll rent out the house and move the business. If you want to stay here, then we will. You could even open a little coffee shop in town. Either way, it’ll work.”
I place my mug down, but hold to the handle. “Will… you can’t leave your home. And I can’t leave mine.”
“Salem’s your home. You’ll remember soon enough and then we’ll figure out where we want to call home base.”He seems confident.
“I-”
He interrupts me, dropping his fork on the table to take my free hand in his. “It’s only an address. We can move to Hong Kong if you want. I don’t care where we go. You’ll be by my side. I’ll be by yours.”
I swallow and do the only thing I can think of. I nod.
~*~
“Ready! I’ll be right there.” I answer Will’s calls from near the front door as I scoop yesterday’s clothes into the little canvas bag. He’s called me three times. I find myself moving painstakingly slow.
Crouching down, I scratch behind Moose’s ear. He angles his snout up, stretching further into my fingers. His tail wags. “I’ll see you, boy.”
His dark eyes watch me as I lean in to kiss the top of his furry head. I feel him walking closely behind, trotting, the pads of his paws moving along. He rubs against my leg, begging for more attention.
I can’t turn to him, I can’t stop in my tracks to give him what he wants. I know if I do, I’ll lose it. The dog I’ve always wanted… this dog that I’ve bonded with… I can’t accept that it’s possible this could very well be the last I see of him.
I pull the door closed behind me, listening to him scratch against the inside, wanting to follow me further. I slip my sunglasses on to shield my welling eyes just as a tear beads itself to spill.
~*~
I can feel him shifting his eyes to me.
There’s a weird charge to the energy in the cab of the truck. An anticipation, an expectation. I know this feeling. I distinctly remember having the same knot of bundled nerves in my stomach in the fourth grade while waiting to take my place in the center of the stage of our end-of-the-year play.
I felt like throwing up, then. I feel like that now, too.
With each turn of the tires, we draw closer to our destination. Somehow, I expected our trip to take us deep into the realm of nowhere, far removed from the whole touristy aspect of the city, but instead, we follow main roads and end our journey in the parking lot of a small elementary school building.
It’s a Sunday, so the playground should be empty which will allow plenty of privacy for what oddly enough feels like the most important moment of my life. It’s the culmination of years and years of nightmares, and the past handful of days of dreams. Could this finally explain why I’ve been plagued this way? Are they really memories instead?
Not to mention reaching the pinnacle of my relationship with Will. There’s no getting around the fork in road at which we find ourselves. If we turn one way, I’m the reborn, reincarnated wife he desperately loves and has been waiting for. If we turn the other, I’m nothing but a cheap imitation of some grandiose manifestation of his grief.
I can feel his eyes wandering over to me, checking for any sign to indicate that I’m ready to take the journey. The truck has cooled in the long moments we’ve been sitting, each lost in our own thoughts.
“Does it hurt?” I blurt out the only question I can think of.
I’m not a fearful person, but the idea of touching an object only to have every memory and feeling of a past life come rushing back doesn’t strike me as something that would be pleasant. Especially if my nighttime episodes are a good indication of what those memories will be like.
Will reaches for me, closing his fingers around mine. I see him make the movement and notice the tiniest bit of quivering throughout his hand before he settles around my own. He’s nervous too. The warm clamminess of his flesh only provides more evidence that he can’t be as calm and in control as he’s so desperately trying to be.
“For me… it was just intense. Like a bright white light… like lightning, charging through me. It wasn’t painful, but it isn’t something I would want to feel twice.”
I widen my eyes at the explanation of his own experience years before. It doesn’t exactly reassure me.
“Why did Malcolm choose this place for you? I mean, what he did, how he put you to sleep.” I want desperately to use the term murder, but think twice about it.“Why did he choose here, the tree, to do it? To leave your stain here? You could have done it anywhere.” I ask him one of the questions that’s been plaguing me.
His fingers soar to life, smoothing themselves over the cold skin of my hand.
“I wanted it to be in the last place that you were. The place where you took your last breath. We made vows. I promised to remain by your side through good and bad, in sickness and in health. I thought life and death were part of that, too. If I had to wait over three hundred years to see you again, I wanted some small part of me to be with you, to be by you.” His explanation of something so dark and evil is beautiful in its own right.
I swallow. He’s being patient, careful not to rush me before I’m ready. I have a long list of questions but can’t seem to settle on any particular one. It’s time to answer the biggest question of all.
“I’m ready.” Well, as ready as I’ll ever be. Sitting here pondering the possibilities just seems to make the situation more daunting to me.
He raises my knuckles and brushes his lips against them. “Then let’s go start the rest of our lives.”
We each push on the door next to us, stepping out into the late morning. The sun is struggling to penetrate the thick layer of darkened clouds that have rolled in. The once gentle breeze has now grown, getting fierce in its warning to take cover.
We have some time, I think, though. Not very many people can say they’ve done this before, but I can’t imagine it taking all that long. The heavy sky above is getting ready to spill showers but holds them for now, like a sagging cloth filling but stretching to hold the contents. Will notices this, too. Our pace quickens as we race against the imminent downpour.
The vibrant green of the manicured schoolyard quickly changes to the artificial beach sand of the play area, with him leading the way as we swerve through the large and colorful swings and slides.
A loud crack of thunder rips through, causing me to jump. Will’s hand grows tighter, trying to calm me however he can.
We leave the schoolyard behind, stepping past the border of trees that line the property and into the brush. It doesn’t take long before whatever sunlight is left is stamped out, hidden from us through not only the storm clouds, but the trees as well.
Unlike the last trail Will took me down, leading to Malcolm
’s old house, this one is definitely not a well-worn one. There is no carved out path indicating where to step next. I do the only thing I can, and follow in his wake as his large form pushes through the branches of overgrowth.
Another deafening roar of thunder violently sounds from above, followed by lightning. I try to remember the old trick of counting seconds between the two to determine how many miles away the coming storm is.
Is it one mile for every second? Two?
I don’t have time to solve the equation as we step into a clearing, the protection of the trees that we leave behind forms a perfect circle surrounding a grass-and-weed filled area with one overly large and ancient looking tree in the middle.
It’s real. At least the tree is real.
I don’t know if I had even gotten around to thinking about the possibility that there wouldn’t even be a tree to substantiate the rest of Will’s claims, but somehow, the thought must have lingered down deep, because as soon as I see the very real and very frightening tree ahead, my stomach drops.
So far, everything he’s told me seems to be working itself out.
Perhaps the rest will, too. Maybe I really amher? The heartbreaking possibility of his being wrong begins to fade. I turn to him. His eyes are cold, set hard on the tree. I’ve been thinking only of how this possibility of a place would affect me, but didn’t even give a thought to how it would upset him.
He wholeheartedly believes this is the very last place on earth that his wife… I quickly correct myself, that I, lived my last moment. This is the place where everything that boy lived for and wanted in life was ripped from him. I can feel the sadness and anger pouring off him.
The hardening muscle of his jaw is pulsing. The color of his flesh beginning to look like a fresh burn.
“I’m so, so sorry.” He doesn’t dare look at me, doing his best to hide the glimmer of a tear.
