by C. B. Stone
Clearing my throat, I say, “The music has got to stop, Noah. I can hear it all the way in my bedroom. You’re putting us all in danger.”
Noah looks confused. “I’m not sure what you mean. I was only sleeping.”
“I heard the music plain as day, Noah. It only stopped when you opened the door,” I snap.
Noah sounds perplexed. “Jaelynn, do I look like I’ve been awake very long?”
I turn my gaze back to him, but remind myself to focus on his face instead of his chest or other body parts. Studying his face, I realize his eyes are barely open, and he is still rubbing the sleep out of them. He yawns again, and had I not heard the music for myself, plain as day, I would have assumed he’d just woken up.
“I don’t know what’s going on” I mutter, crossing my arms and hugging myself. My heart races as my eyes dart around, every shadow now looking like a Ministry guard. I suddenly feel exposed even in my own backyard, and feel goose bumps rise along my legs. “Can I come in?”
There is hardly enough room for one person, much less two in the shed, but Noah steps aside and lets me enter. I shut the door behind us, at the same time realizing the quarters are even more cramped than I remembered.
I also realize I’m now standing much too close for comfort to a half naked man. As embarrassed and uncomfortable as I am though, I still have to rein myself in, doing everything in my power to resist an utterly foreign temptation to reach out and touch his soft skin. I blink, giving myself a mental shake. That is the last thing we need.
“Jaelynn, I don’t know what you heard, but it wasn’t me, I swear,” he insists. I nod.
“Okay, I believe you, but we have to be very careful, Noah.” I bite my lip, worrying it between my teeth before continuing, “I overheard something today, and it really scares me.”
Noah lifts a brow. “What did you hear?” He leans forward, making me scuttle back against the wall just to maintain a little safe space between us. Flushing when I notice him hiding a grin at my antsy behavior, I sniff and straighten. He chuckles and turns to grab his clothes from the edge of the cot, pulling them on while I start talking.
“I discovered Ms. Blackwood and some other officers, including my dad, in the woods today. I overheard a conversation I shouldn’t have heard. For some reason, they suspect my father might be a traitor, and they’re going be keeping a close eye on us. All of us.”
Noah doesn’t look surprised, but he also doesn’t say anything. So I continue, “Which is why we need to be extra careful about you being here. And about the music and the stuff going on with us. They’re watching us, Noah. I had one following me at the market today, and — well — I don’t have a good feeling about this. Not at all.”
“It will be okay, Jaelynn,” he says, surprising me.
I frown, shaking my head. “How do you know that?” I whisper miserably. “No one can possibly know that.”
“I do,” he assures me.
“How?”
He shrugs. “Because I know things. I feel things. You know those dreams we share? I see things that maybe you haven’t seen yet. That haven’t even happened yet. And trust me, we will be just fine. Everything is happening just as it needs to happen.”
My brows collide. He sounds so sure of himself. “I don’t understand,” I say.
Noah reaches out and tweaks my chin gently. That electrical feeling I felt last time rushes through my face, though it isn’t as strong as before. Or maybe it is and I’ve simply gotten used to it. He turns my face to look up at him, to meet his eyes.
“You will come to understand, in time. When you’re ready to accept it,” he adds. “I’ve accepted it already, so I see the visions. I know what’s coming. And soon, you will too.”
I’m nervous, but can’t suppress the small sliver of excitement that worms its way into my heart. I want to know things. Namely, I want to know for sure that we will be okay.
“I want to understand, I really do,” I tell him. “I couldn’t be more ready to find out what’s happening and why.”
“You might think you’re ready for the answers, Jaelynn,” Noah says, attempting to sooth me. “But you’re not asking the right questions. You’re not opening yourself up to the possibilities before you. The answers are everywhere you look. It’s even written on the shed door.”
I gasp. “What? You didn’t paint the door?” Panic tears through my body. When I was standing outside waiting for him to open the door, I’d been so consumed with the music and my fears over it, I hadn’t even noticed whether he repainted it or not.
Noah holds up his hands in an effort to calm me. “I tried, I really did, Jaelynn. And it worked for a few minutes, but as soon as night fell, the symbol somehow etched itself right back in place. I’ll have to keep painting it every morning, and hope it stays hidden throughout the day, so as not to give us away. But even if it does, it will still be okay. I promise it will. Everything happening is part of His plan.”
“His plan?” I feel strange suddenly, like I can’t breathe.
“You’ll know in time. I can’t tell you everything, you’ll have to see Him for yourself to understand.”
We sit together in silence for a few moments longer. I study his face, and look deeply into his eyes, strangely comfortable with the quiet hanging between us. I don’t know why, I’m still not able to explain it in any intelligent manner, but I trust Noah. I feel safe with him. I somehow just know he will never do anything to harm me or put me at risk.
As I sit there, contemplating what our future may hold, I feel my eyes growing heavier and heavier. I try but soon can’t fight it any longer. I lie down and succumb to sleep at last, nestling next to Noah, who is already snoring softly beside me.
******
I stand in the middle of my shed, moonlight cascading down over me from the tiny window. A sense of lightness and joy fills me as the music I heard earlier begins to play again.
A melody I have sung countless times before fills the room around me, and I have the strongest desire to sing out loud along with it.
“Don’t fight it,” Noah urges. “Just go with it.”
I turn to him, unsure of when he arrived, but not altogether surprised nor scared to have him suddenly standing next to me.
“You hear it too then?”
“I do now,” he says.
We both look over at the instrument that stands against the wall of the shed. It seems to come alive, to glow with a light of its own. Music is coming from it, despite the fact that no one is touching it. The strings somehow move without any fingers upon them.
As I listen to the gentle strumming, words begin to flow through my veins like life’s blood, rushing through my body, filling me with a joy, passion and the same electricity I’d felt before.
Words dance upon my tongue, and as hard as I try to fight it, I can’t. Without even realizing I’m doing it, I begin singing, the words escaping from between my lips before I can stop them. Noah is singing too, and neither of us is particularly quiet about it.
Little birds sing songs of praise all the summer long, but in colder, shorter days they forget their song.
Every spring the sweet young flowers open bright and gay, till the chilly autumn hours wither them away.
There’s a land we have not seen,
where the trees are always green.
Flying in a cloud of euphoria, happiness radiates from every pore. A sound draws my attention to the shed door. I hear music coming from outside, just beyond it. It isn’t music from a human or an instrument though. It’s a sound I can’t quite place.
Curious, I fling open the shed door to find birds fluttering around my backyard, dancing among the trees, their chattering song filling the night air all around us.
My eyes grow wide in shock. I’ve never seen so many birds in one place, not like this.
I continue singing, though softer now since the door is open. It’s as if my voice is not entirely my own and knows I still need to be careful, responding automa
tically so as not to alert anyone to what is going on.
It’s clear that whatever is watching over us wants to protect us, and wants us to continue singing.
So I listen to the voice in my mind, doing exactly as it wants and continuing to sing, Noah’s voice blending with mine perfectly. This is nothing more than a dream anyway, I reassure myself. I know this because I always feel safest in my dreams, and I feel perfectly safe right now.
Every spring sweet young flowers
open bright and gay, till the chilly autumn hours wither them away.
A sound comes from above, drawing my attention to the roof of the shed. Droplets of water trickle from the top of the structure, making a strange noise, one devoid of music and harmony.
I reach out a hand and let the drops of water falling splash into my open palm. I gaze wonderingly at the small pool of liquid in my hand and laugh out loud. Water. Falling from the sky. A smile stretches across my face and my heart fills with so much joy I think it might burst.
I tilt my face up, feeling the rain begin to fall in earnest. Noah grabs my hand and we twirl about in the downpour together, our hair and clothes soaked within seconds. Noah and I laugh and laugh, and I can’t remember anything ever feeling as good as the rain now falling on my skin.
I haven’t felt raindrops soaking into my hair in so long, I’d almost forgotten the sensation altogether. But it feels so nice, so cool, and so comforting. Water coats the earth with a moonlit sheen, and everywhere we step, the land transforms from a dull brown into a lush green.
The flowers I’d planted next to the shed so long ago — that had never blossomed — grow up and outward in vivid shades of blues, purples, yellows and reds, right before our eyes. Flowers I’ve never even seen before spring out of the ground, twisting and turning and astounding me with their beauty.
The rain keeps falling while the land grows green around us, and we continue our song, allowing our voices to grow louder beneath the cover of the rain. No longer afraid, we watch in awe as the dirt underneath our feet turns to grass. The garden out front is no longer full of dried—up vines, it is ripe and teeming with life.
There’s a land we have not seen,
where the trees are always green.
We stand there, watching the world seem to awaken all around us. Water is starting to fill up a hole off to the side of our yard, and before I know it, it becomes a pond deep enough to wade into.
“We can’t stop here,” I say, looking at Noah.
He doesn’t argue. Linking hands, we make our way out of the yard, competing with the cascade of rain by singing as loudly as possible, oblivious to how soaked we are.
Everywhere we go, everything we touch comes to life. Ripe oranges and heavy grapefruit hang from trees long since dried up. Lettuce, cabbage and peppers rise up from the ground.
Everywhere we look, it springs forth all around us. Delicious, succulent food. The best we’ve ever seen. And ponds sprout up too, as if the rain is giving the earth everything it needs to sustain itself.
Hand-in-hand, we walk all the way over to Mr. Stanton’s farm, singing as we go, and I watch as his apple tree springs to life, almost bringing tears to my eyes when I realize what all this will mean for the Stanton family.
Large fresh apples grow, changing from green to blazing red in the space of moments. Noah walks over to some dead vines that quickly become bulbous fruits and vegetables unlike anything we’ve ever seen in the Valley before.
The old cow out back, sickly and thin, suddenly grows fat and plump, ready to supply milk to a family that very much needs it.
When Mr. Stanton awakens in the morning, he will have fresh milk and fruit for a change. He can feed Reid and hopefully bring some color back to the boy’s skin again... life to his small frame. Maybe even nourish his wife back to health.
But we don’t stop there, we spend the entire night walking through the Valley in our dreams. We leave food, water and beauty in our wake everywhere we go. But eventually, the rain starts to slow down, and the sun begins to rise. I look to Noah and he gives me a wan smile. I can feel the magical dream state we’d been wandering around in beginning to wear off. Judging by his expression, Noah can too.
When we wake up, I find our hands are still linked and I still feel a lightness in my heart and soul. The thought occurs to me that yes, there is another alternative to marrying and having a child that will only starve to death soon after birth.
I can marry and have a child that will grow and flourish instead.
Looking over at Noah, I realize he can’t go anywhere. I need Noah, and Noah needs me. I grin at him. Reaching out, he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, before grinning back and kissing me gently on the forehead.
Untangling myself, I sit up. I know my father will soon be rising for the day. “I have to go,” I say. “But I’ll be back later, once my dad has left for work.”
“It’s okay,” he replies. “Your dad won’t be going to work today. No one will.”
“What you mean?” I ask, rubbing sleep from my eyes. My body aches from sleeping in such a confined space, scrunched up in an odd position.
“No one will be going to work today, Jaelynn. Today is the day change begins. Nothing will ever be the way it was before. But don’t be afraid. It’s meant happen this way.”
Feeling suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion and wanting to get inside before my father wakes up, I just nod.
“Okay, whatever you say. We will talk later.”
I stand up and step outside, into the morning light beyond the shed. The sunrise is so blindingly bright I have to shield my eyes and blink a few times. When I open them again, my jaw nearly hits the ground. The dream world I’d just spent the night wandering through is laid out before me in bright, vivid detail.
Lush, green grass covers my backyard, and the pond from my dream reflects the sky like glass, tucked away in the corner of the yard. Several ducks swim on the surface of the pond just as if it’s always been there. As though it didn’t just sprout up overnight.
“Oh my gosh,” I yelp. My brain starts reeling.
If it hadn’t been a dream then, had anyone heard us singing? Was someone now watching us? Were they coming for us now, even as I stand here? Anxiety grips my heart in an iron fist and my knees go weak.
Noah’s voice pipes up behind me, as smooth and calm as ever. “Relax, Jaelynn. It wasn’t real.”
“But this,” I say motioning out to the yard, eyes wide as saucers. “This is very much real.”
He looks out from the shed, but he doesn’t look at all surprised, just happy. “Yes, this is all real, but the way it came about didn’t happen the way we saw it. Not exactly, anyway. He wants to protect us, don’t forget that.”
My forehead wrinkles and I shake my head. “But how? Why?”
“You’ll have all the answers in time. Go back inside, get in bed, and pretend you’re as surprised by this as your father’s bound to be.”
“But I am!” I exclaim. “I mean, look at this!” I touch one of the new roses growing next to the shed. It is just a bud, but as I hold it in my hand and feel the velvety petals, stroking it, the flower opens up and blooms to life right under my nose.
“Good. He will believe you then. Now go, hurry,” Noah says, shoving me further outside and closing the shed door gently in my face, his dark eyes glinting with laughter and happiness.
I stare at the closed door. I can just make out the symbol from yesterday. Despite several coats of paint, it continues to seep through. I run my hands over it, and just like the wall in the cellar the day before, it feels a little warm to my touch.
Remembering my father will be waking up soon, I rush to the house, quietly opening and closing the back door when I slip inside. As I creep down the hallway, I hold my breath, hoping my father is still fast asleep and will remain that way for just a little while longer. As I pass by his door, I sense no movement from his room. Relief makes me quiver.
Making my way to my room, I sl
ip back into bed and close my eyes, trying to feign sleep as best I can. But sleep doesn’t come as my mind races and my heart thunders to keep up with it. I want nothing more than to throw back my covers and stand at the window, soaking in all of the life growing anew in our yard.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, I hear my father rising. I hear him shuffling and puttering around the house and hold my breath as I wait for it.
“What the —” I hear him mutter.
As I lie in my bed, I can hear footsteps rushing down the hallway and toward the front of the house. I hear the front door open and slam shut. I continue to listen, barely breathing, wondering if I can pretend he woke me up and drew me out of bed. But I opt to continue feigning sleep, just to be safe.
When I hear the door open again, he calls my name, and I can hear his footsteps thudding down the hall. “Yes, Daddy?” I respond, trying to sound sleepy.
“Jaelynn, look outside!” he exclaims, bursting into my room. I open up my eyes, smile and get up to look out my window. And even though I’d just seen it all moments before, my eyes grow wide and I gasp once again at the beauty of it.
The sun reflects off the pond, making it look like a pool of liquid gold, the dazzling light making my father’s eyes sparkle as he stands near my bed, staring out the window with me.
“Am I dreaming?” I ask seriously, unsure if I’d ever woken up from my dream with Noah in the first place.
“No, sweetie, you most definitely are not,” he replies, sitting down heavily on the foot of my bed to gaze outside. “What the heck happened overnight?”
I sort of know the answer to that, but know I can’t tell him. Instead I stay quiet, closing my eyes and breathe in the fresh air wafting through my window. The scent of roses fills my nostrils.
“I want to go outside,” I say, turning to move toward my bedroom door. He stops me, however.
