Soft Wild Ache (Crown Creek)

by Theresa Leigh

  I leaned forward. "Yes, there is," I said immediately.

  I felt my siblings turn to stare at me, but I ignored their shock. "And I love her very much." I took a deep breath. "And she's trying to figure some things out right now, but I hope that someday our paths will cross again."

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Rachel

  For the second time in a week, I was leaving in the middle of the night.

  My legs throbbed with each thumping heartbeat, and with each one, I got angrier and angrier. I'd pushed through the pain, letting it propel me the dark four miles to the Greyhound station on the outskirts of Crown Creek. And with the last bit of money I'd somehow had the foresight to secret away from my parents and the greedy, grubbing hands of the Elders, I'd bought a one-way ticket to New York City.

  Now I was on a slightly stinky, and dizzy-making bus, bumping and jostling my way through the night. My entire life, I had never left Crown Creek. Now, each passing mile was the farthest I had ever been from home. But I was too exhausted to think about this for very long. The bus's sway was lulling me as the last bits of adrenaline ebbed away, leaving me desperately sleepy.

  Click.

  My eyes snapped back open. There was that noise again. The man in the seat diagonally ahead of me had spent the past twenty minutes playing with a deadly looking folding knife. He'd flick it open and then twirl it lazily in his fingers before, click, he snapped it back shut again.

  I stiffened and sat up straighter, glancing over at him warily. His wildly unkempt gray hair was corralled underneath a battered leather cap and he wore the leather vest I'd come to associate with the men who drank all day at the Crown Tavern, leered at me when Beau wasn't looking, and then headed out to their shiny motorcycles to shatter the peace and quiet with their loud engines. I quailed against the window, hoping he hadn't seen me looking at him.

  I shifted in my seat, trying to find a comfortable way to hold my injured legs. As I moved around, I hissed as I inadvertently sat on my braid yet again, yanking my head back. The sting of it getting torn out at the roots along my forehead brought tears to my eyes and for a second I just wanted to give in to the tears. To curl up into a ball and feel sorry for myself. "Goddammit," I moaned, hugging my arms around my chest. But swearing held no power anymore. I reached back and lifted my heavy braid again in sudden irritation. I'd worn this braid every day of my life. It was a mark that set me apart from the world. It told everyone in Crown Creek that I was Chosen, that I belonged to that weird, secretive cult they'd all heard about. I stiffened just thinking of the word, having spent a lifetime being conditioned to reject it. But isn't that exactly what the Chosen was? A cult that brainwashed its believers into accepting corporal punishment for the sin of... .singing?

  I yanked the tie off the end of the braid and then hastily combed my fingers through my hair, letting it fall loosely around me. I didn't want to ever be marked as Chosen again. Without the heavy braid tugging at my scalp, I felt freer. A headache I'd been living with my whole life suddenly eased.

  But the bus was overly warm. And my hair clung to me as hot and itchy as a wool blanket. It hung down in front of my face when I leaned forward, a curtain to hide me from the world.

  I didn't want to be hidden anymore.

  Click. The biker's penknife flicked again. I jumped, and as I did my hair got twisted in the zipper of the secular jacket I had unearthed from my mother's sewing pile before she could cut it up for a quilt. "Shit," I hissed as another small clump along my hairline was torn out at the roots. Wearing it loose was even worse than wearing a braid. Angrily, I reached back and braided it back up again. And then I mustered up all of my courage and leaned forward. "Hey? Excuse me?"

  The biker turned and for the first time, I saw his eyes. They were kind. "You need somethin'?"

  "Could I?" I swallowed. I was done letting other people make me feel bad without my permission. I wasn't scared of him, or anyone. "Borrow that knife for a second?"

  He looked down at it, and then back up at me, and then shrugged.

  Then he watched me take it and slice off my braid.

  Instantly the weight was gone. I breathed a sigh of relief, and then whooped out loud. "Oh my God!" I breathed as I reached up to touch my hair, now swinging along my jawline. "I'm free."

  The biker glanced up. "Better?" he asked.

  I held it up, that thick ratty rope holding me down. Anchoring me to a life I was done with. "Yes," I breathed. So much better. I extended my hand and looked at it, wrinkling my nose. "I want to throw it out the window. “

  "Nah, keep it." The biker sniffed and then snorted up something into a handkerchief before continuing. "You gotta always move forward, but sometimes it's nice to look back and see how far you've come."

  I blinked. "You're right."

  "Fuckin' A," he agreed. "Can I have my knife back now, miss?"

  "Oh!" I handed it back to him. "Thank you."

  He gave me another look that lasted so long I felt some of my fear of him creeping back in. Until he suddenly nodded again. "It suits you."

  I looked out the darkened window and absently raked my fingers through it, marveling at how smooth and untangled it was. "I'm glad you think so." I thought of Beau and how he'd wrapped my braid in his hands before kissing me and a sudden pang of regret made me tuck my braid back into my purse. I closed my eyes and tried to picture his reaction when I saw him.

  Several hours later, I suddenly jerked back awake from a jumbled and restless sleep. I blinked, and then blinked again, then rubbed my eyes to make sure I wasn't still dreaming. All around, glass towers jutted into the sky. Buildings loomed skyward like the walls of a canyon, and the bus was part of a river of cars that flowed along the canyon floor. And all around us were people. So, so many people.

  Panic clawed at my throat, but I had to be sure. "Excuse me?" I leaned over to the biker again. "Where are we?"

  He blinked up from the doze I'd startled him from and looked out the window. "Henry Hudson Parkway, looks to be. Gonna be at the Port Authority soon." He shuffled around, gathering up a surprising amount of bags. "Hey, thanks for waking me up, kid."

  But I was still confused. "Henry Hudson Parkway in..." I hesitated.

  A flash of sympathy crossed his face. "New York, kid."

  "New York City?" I stared out the window, feeling faint. "This is New York City? It's huge!"

  "That's a true statement, right there."

  He went back to gathering up his things, leaving me to gape out the window. Somewhere, in this massive, bustling city, Beau was playing music with his siblings. But I had no idea where to look for him. I had no idea who even to ask or when he was leaving again.

  I closed my eyes and silently cursed myself and my stupid, sheltered naïveté in thinking I could simply hop on a bus to New York City and immediately walk out and find Beau again. I was a fool. And now, thanks to the bus ticket here, I was a broke, penniless fool.

  It killed me to know that somewhere in this city was the man I loved. But he'd be leaving soon, and I was trapped here with no money and no way of letting him know I had come for him.

  I was never going to see him again.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Beau

  "I don't care if I look like a tourist, I am a tourist!" Claire stopped, again, and took a selfie, again.

  I looked at my brothers and shrugged. Finn looked like he wanted to vomit, but then again, Times Square would do that to a person, especially a person who felt most comfortable in the silent woods. "How you holding up?" I asked, worried about him and his declarations that this was the cesspool of humanity, but he couldn't hear me over the city noise that assaulted us from every angle. Jonah was busy texting pictures back to Ruby, but Gabe looked over it all.

  I agreed. It was our last day in New York. After a whirlwind of recording and special appearances, the reunion performance was all planned. In two months, we'd be playing three stadiums in the Tri-State area. Tickets went on sale today. It was ha
ppening.

  I should have been thrilled.

  But all I wanted was to get back to Crown Creek. I'd been rehearsing what I'd say when I saw Rachel again. Because that was happening. I would march right onto the Chosen compound and demand that she be allowed to speak to me. In my head, it was clear as day how it would look, with her walking up to me in those long skirts. She'd watch me, warily. And then I'd take her into my arms and kiss her and dare her to push me away.

  But I couldn't do that, stuck as I was in the middle of Times Square. I shoved my hands in my pockets to keep from balling my fists in frustration.

  "Oh my God, it's the Naked Cowboy!" Claire shrieked, darting out into the street. Finn lunged and caught her by her purse strap, saving her at the last second from being mowed down by a taxi. "I have to get my picture with him, he is a staple," she announced, ignoring her brush with death to merge in with the saner pedestrians who were wisely crossing at a crosswalk.

  "Jesus polka dancing Christ," Finn snarled. But he followed her. We all did.

  As we moved unrecognized through the throngs of people, little snippets of memory of my old life returned. Moving through strange cities on tour with my brothers filled me with a kind of melancholy nostalgia. I loved this. I missed this, and it took navigating the neon madness of Times Square to make me finally realize it.

  A waft of warm air from the subway grate rushed past my face, making me wince. Gabe saw and chuckled. "Still getting used to being beardless, huh?"

  I ran my hand over my chin. "It feels like I'm naked."

  "Nah, he's the one who’s naked." He lifted his chin in the direction of the Naked Cowboy. I looked to see him standing proudly on the street corner in his tighty-whities, guitar strategically placed over his crotch. Then immediately looked away because my sister was kneeling down next to him, miming an act I wanted to believe she knew absolutely nothing about.

  As I turned, the hair on my neck rose, my heart quickened, then a second later, my brain caught up with why I was suddenly breathing faster.

  Wafting across the breeze, over the noise of the traffic and tourists, was a voice.

  A voice of an angel.

  A voice I knew.

  "What's wrong with you?" Finn leaned into my eyeline, but I shushed him and listened harder.

  There it was again. "Rachel?"

  "What?" Finn looked around too, but the voice had fallen silent. "Hey man, I know it's been a rough few days, have you gone mental on me?" He looked rather pleased about this prospect. "Maybe it's my turn to hover over you all the time?"

  "Wait, ssh!" I held up my finger because the voice had started to sing again. "That's Rachel." I was sure of it. But how? "You hear that, right? I'm not hallucinating?"

  "I hear"—Finn paused—"something," he admitted. Then he shouted, "Whoa! Wait! Where are you?"

  But I was already sprinting as fast as I could toward that angelic sound. It couldn’t be her, but I had to know for sure.

  And if it was her?

  Then maybe I believed in miracles after all.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Rachel

  I'd sat in the filthy bathroom stall at the Port Authority bus station for a solid hour as I wrapped my mind around the enormous mistake I had made.

  Then I stood up. An hour was long enough. If I wanted to find Beau, I needed to get back to Crown Creek. I'd go to his parents' house, ask them to help me. Or, barring that, I'd walk to Beau and Finn's new house and just wait for them. They had to come home at some point, right? That's what home was. And once they got home, I would be there, ready to start over again.

  But in order to do that, I needed money.

  I wandered out into the thronging streets, letting the crowds carry me along like a leaf caught in a current. If I let myself, I knew I'd become overwhelmed in a second. There were so many people in this city, millions, it seemed, and though I searched every face that passed me, none of them was the person I wanted so desperately to see.

  "Please," I murmured, not knowing who I was speaking to. Maybe I was praying. "Please, please, please." I took a deep, shuddering breath.

  A sense of calm washed over me. Looking around was too much, so I'd kept my eyes focused only on what was in front of me. A man, with a broad back, carrying a backpack and a guitar case. He strode across the street and then crossed again, and I followed him. He was a musician, maybe he knew Beau? Maybe he would help me?

  But he didn't turn, not even when I called out, "Excuse me?" I followed him and then stopped short when he suddenly dropped the guitar case. He opened it up and lifted his instrument, leaving the case wide open. Then he put the strap around his neck and began playing.

  His raw, ragged voice was harsh, and he only seemed to know a few chords. I wondered what he was doing, suddenly playing there on the dirty sidewalk.

  And then, to my astonishment, a woman dropped a dollar bill into his open case and then kept walking.

  I gasped as another person, this time a man with matted hair hanging in ropes down his back stood and listened for a moment. He dropped a few coins into the case and then walked on.

  My heart was pounding in my throat and suddenly I knew how I could get home.

  I walked away from the guitar player, not wanting to have to compete with him. The street suddenly opened out into a canyon of neon. Blinking, scrolling signs in more colors than I knew were possible, strobed around me, and streams of people swarmed past.

  This seemed like the best possible place I could find. I wrinkled my nose and pulled a discarded plastic cup from one of the trash barrels and set it down on the sidewalk in front of me. Then I took a step back and started to sing.

  The ache inside of me was person-shaped, a hole the size and weight of the man I loved. I sang that ache, pouring my hope that someday I might fill it again with Beau's love. I sang the hymn that I'd sung for him when he called me an angel, and an old woman stopped and watched me with tears in her eyes. I sang the song we were supposed to sing at the open mic, and three teenagers ran up and dropped a five dollar bill in my dirty cup. I smiled my thanks and kept on singing every song I knew. I sang loudly, without worrying about vanity or sin. I sang with all my heart, but my voice was getting tired.

  I glanced down at my cup. It was stuffed with dollar bills. Maybe there was enough to get something to eat, something to soothe my throat. That's all the time I would take, and then I'd come right back out here and sing until I had enough money to get back where I belonged.

  With Beau.

  I cleared my throat. One last song before I went. I closed my eyes and tried to remember how it had felt, standing there next to the piano as Claire played. When Beau had come in and watched that first voice lesson. Then I began to sing that feeling.

  There was a shout and the screech of tires. A man was running, running right toward me and shouting my name even though I didn't know him.

  Wait. Those eyes.

  Yes, I did!

  "Beau!" I shouted, rushing to the clean-shaven man who had vaulted to curb to stand frozen in front of me with his mouth open in shock.

  "What are you doing here?" we both said at the exact same time.

  "Where is your beard?" I asked at the same time he wondered, "What happened to your hair?"

  Pure joy bubbled up in my chest. "We both lost some hair," I babbled, reaching up to touch his smooth face. "You look so different."

  "You're still beautiful," he murmured, brushing his fingers along the hacked strands. "Maybe even more so."

  I launched myself into his arms and he crushed me to his chest, then slammed his lips over mine. I kissed him back hungrily, ignoring the shouts and jeers from the people having to step around us on the sidewalk.

  When he pulled back, he looked concerned and gently raised his fingers to brush away the tears that were now streaming down my face. "I fucked up," he confessed.

  I wiped away my tears and laughed. "No, I'd say I was the one who fucked up."

  He grinned to hear me swear
. Behind him, Jonah, Gabe, Finn, and Claire finally caught up. "Holy shit," Finn gasped. "You really did hear her from all the way across the street."

  But Beau wasn't even looking at them. His eyes were fixed on me, like if he blinked, he was afraid I'd disappear. "I don't care that you can't have kids," he whispered. "I just want to be with you because I—"

  "I love you," we both said at the exact same time. He folded me into his arms again and I knew once and for all that I was exactly where I belonged.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Beau

  The church doors opened and the first worshippers streamed out into the bright sunlight. I scanned the crowd, watching for Rachel.

  She emerged with a giant smile on her face and waved goodbye to a young mother who hefted her baby up onto her shoulder before leaving. I smiled to see that Rachel was almost dancing as she came down the steps before she stopped and looked around for me.

  I held back. I wanted one more moment to look at her. Her sweet white dress should have looked demure, but there was no hiding my girl's curves. Nor was there any hiding her smile now that she'd cut the rest of her hair off. Her new pixie cut made her eyes look huge and they widened farther when she spotted me waiting for her.

  "Hey!" I leaned down to kiss her on the cheek, keeping it polite for the sake of the churchgoers. "How was it?" Rachel had been searching for a church ever since we got back to Crown Creek three weeks ago. Her first two attempts had ended in frustration, but she was smiling now and that was a good sign. "Did you like it?"

  "It was... different." She laughed and rolled her eyes. "I mean, of course it was." For a moment, my thoughts went to those marks on her legs and anger flooded my veins. She didn't want me to go find the man who had done that to her, and as much as I wanted to go storming the Chosen compound with a stick of my own to beat people with, I did what she asked.