There’s gratification when he answers me. Rose, I need you.
But the gratification is short-lived when I realize how desperate he sounds. I literally feel pain not being able to take his away. Shh, it’s okay. I’m here, looking for you.
Then there’s silence, a disconnection from the lingering shadow of his essence. I become frantic to hear from him again. Are you there?
Nothing.
I beg for new words to take away the silence. Please, answer me!
I hurt.
No longer able to stay controlled enough to use the colorful waves, I scream out loud for him. “Where are you?” I whirl around as if he might appear so I can eliminate his suffering. “Please! Tell me where to find you!” Sam barks at my odd actions.
I look off into the distance to the mountain I love to photograph. The normal draw to that mountain I have never stood upon doubles.
Running. I’m suddenly running without telling my body to do so. Leaves crackle under my sneakers and Sam’s paws. I stumble up a hill, but I don’t stop. I push and push until an unusual exhaustion captures me. Adrenaline subsides, and I’m utterly and completely out of breath. I stop. My heart demands I continue, but my body refuses. Sam pants as he circles me nervously. The mountain I want—I need—to reach is miles and miles from me. I hit my knees knowing I’ll never make it.
Tortured. That’s what I am. Tortured.
Entering my backyard, I see Gunner watching me as he rises from the rocking chair. A memory of him flashes through my mind.
Gunner is ten when he finds me hiding under my bed during a sleepover one night. It’s so dark, and I’m petrified. He lies on his belly on my wooden floor. The moonlight makes it possible to see him, and he’s grinning. “Whatcha doing, Rosie?”
“Shh, I think someone is watching me.”
I watch his body rise off the floor. His bare feet walk to one window then the other. His bravery amazes me, even at such a young age. I can’t understand how he’s so sure he can handle whoever is watching me. His feet come back to the side of my bed, and he lies back down on his belly. “I don’t see anyone.”
“Ya sure?”
“Promise. Maybe we should not watch any more scary movies.”
“What are you doing awake?”
“Don’t know. Just woke up.” He reaches his hand out to me. “I wish I could come under there with ya, but I don’t fit anymore.” I grasp his hand, needing him to make me feel safe again. “Come to me, Rose. I won’t let anything touch ya.”
He smirks, showing the dimple on his cheek, and somehow, that’s enough to convince me to come out. “Will you stay with me?” I ask as I climb back into my bed.
He crawls under my blanket. “I’ll always stay with you, Rose. No matter where you go.”
And he does. Gunner is always with me. I stop walking as the older version of Gunner hesitantly steps off the porch and walks toward me. Sam trots to greet him.
“How’d you know where I was?”
“Mama,” he softly answers, petting Sam absently because he’s studying me. “What is it?”
“I see you, and I want to run into your arms. But you’re mad at me.”
He stops touching Sam and growls. “Rose. You are to always run to me. Whenever you need to. I am here for you. That won’t change. Please, run to me, Rose.”
My legs take off. Leaping into his arms, I beg for help. “Something’s happening to me.”
He squeezes the hell out of me as he holds me off the ground. “Shh, Rose, we can get through anything. We’ll figure this out together.”
Something I know well: things don’t always go as planned. Work and life become a blur. I don’t know where either are headed. What I do know is I want to be reminded how to do more than just survive. A fire burns inside my soul that yearns to be stoked.
I had a dream once, a simple one, really. I ran through an open field, the wind at my back pushing me forward into freedom. Not freedom from everyday struggles or sick people, just the understanding that all is as it should be. A freedom from doubt, so I can redeem a belief in faith, a faith that can only be fathomed by the freest of souls.
Weeks ago, I believed that dream was coming true with the blue eyes and the wind messages, but they ended as quickly as they started. After talks with Gunner and the expression on his concerned face when I speak of messages in the wind, I’m left with the knowledge that I’m nuts. The earth-altering clarity I had experienced is not part of my present circumstance. Reality blankets my hopes and aspirations with a bleak, condensed fog. Maybe realities are myths in themselves, just like my stranger.
Shelly’s worried about me and tries to carry my weight, but a family friend, my boss, has to pull me aside and do the talk. “You look awful,” he says. “People are scared.”
I know what he means. Not understanding this Brasstown illness keeps people in a perpetual state of fear. This weakened town still has to fight to live, and being around a suspected contagious person is something they prefer to do without. Sunken eyes and gray skin have made me a topic of conversations.
“They think I’m sick?” I ask, feeling sick. I’ve gone from energy and enlightenment to complete, constant exhaustion.
My boss nods with regret. “Yeah, I’m so sorry, kid. Scary times.”
“I’m not sick, Joe, I’m-I’m just tired as hell.” I don’t want to be without a job.
His hand takes mine. “I know. I wish there was something I could do.”
“I’ve never been fired before.”
My now ex-boss smiles. “You’ve never had another job before.”
We chuckle, but it is weak and simply a result of nerves, not joy.
I sigh. “Do you at least feel guilty?”
“Free ice cream shakes for a year?”
I take a deep breath. “Yeah, I’d say your cheap ass feels guilty.”
“Get some rest, girl.”
My eyes well up as I hand over my key to the Mountain Café. This action is also saying goodbye to Archie, Betty, and all the locals, people I’ve known all my life, people I consider—considered—family. “Yes, rest. I’ll do that.” I hug the one who opened his doors and arms to a scared, freshly out of high school girl with nowhere else to turn. “Goodbye, Joe.” I do what I have no choice but to do and leave with only memories of Mountain Café.
Gunner wants to go to the diner, picket in protest, and strangle locals. Not only am I now without an income, but also I’ve become isolated from the town. Even Shelly has excuses when I call to see if she wants some girl time. I try hard not to hold it against her, but it cuts deep.
Gunner walks through my front door, announcing, “Your mama said to tell you she will be out late. Her, the kids, and my dad are hitting that carnival a couple hours away.”
I’m envious as I whisper, “A carnival.”
“You want to go?” Gunner points toward the door. “I’ll take you. I don’t give a shit what people have to say.”
“No, I don’t want to go.” It’s a lie. Laughing and screaming on rides with cotton candy sticking to everything I touch would be a blast, but I’m exhausted. I’ve lost the fight that Gunner loves so much.
Gunner delivers a free “Mountain Café guilt” chocolate milkshake and a DVD for our movie night. “That’s what I thought.”
“Gunner, am I disappointing you?” He tilts his head. “For not fighting this town’s judgment?”
“Not at all. I’m just worried about you.” He kisses me.
I pull back to see his face. “Am I… holding you back… from life?”
“I’m a big boy. I do what I want, and I’m right where I want to be.”
“I’ll never forget it. You and your father… he’s giving money to Mama again because I lost my—And you’ve been so good to m
e. You stand by me when everyone else, except Mama and the kids have—” My voice stops as my breath gets stuck.
His arms are wonderful, smothering me in a blink of an eye. “What are best friends for?”
I burrow into his chest. “I love you, Gunner Hayes.”
During the day, while Gunner is at the mill, I’m in the woods where nothing turns its back on me. Animals accept me, sick or not. Walking with Sam and my camera bag, I eye the mountain that calls to me in the distance. I want to cross over the miles between us and find the serenity it promises. I think about how wonderful it would be to not be losing my mind and have the stranger truly in my world. Just the thought of him has me reaching out on my crazy wind mail system, I want you.
I do. I want him to be real in the worst possible way.
Instead of trying the miles that I’m sure will defeat me, I sit on the ground against a tree trunk. Sam plops down next to me. There’s no way my tired legs will make it through a valley or two, across a river, and maybe around a lake to reach that mountain. I exhale, lying back and chuckling to my constant companion, Sam. “Maybe tomorrow?” We both know tomorrow will be the same. Not going to chance trying.
I lie under the tree with my eyes closed for a while. Sam begins his almost-constant barking. “Sam, I’m going to leave you home tomorrow so I can rest in peace.” I open my eyes to see the branches, way up in the sky, blowing in the wind, causing my dog’s anguish. Grabbing the camera resting on my chest, I point my lens up and snap a picture. I tease my dog, “I shall print it and hang it next to your bed so you can bark at it all night and be too tired to drive me nuts during the day.”
Chapter Thirteen
Ryder
It takes me two weeks to heal from broken bones, punctured lungs, and slashed organs. A human would have died or been hospitalized for months and months on end. It’s the longest recovery I’d ever experienced.
Passing time is like dredging my feet through quicksand. You don’t. The swampy sand keeps pulling on you endlessly, until it consumes your very breath. It covers—buries—you and tries to snuff out the light you desperately want to see.
When Rose sleeps, she can overpower me with a whisper. Without that life force, I slowly become empty.
Once healed and allowed to guard again, I find relief being near her, quietly watching her along with the Guardians. My silent brothers, who are so aware of my internal torment, stay supportive but leave me to find my own way through. I no longer listen to Rose’s talks with Gunner. The thought of how her lips move as she shapes syllables is enough to drive me mad with the need to be where her words land—to be the one she speaks to. But I have made the decision to leave her in her human world. Now, I have to stand by this choice.
Staring at the sunlit sky and sitting on my favorite mountaintop is almost a waste of time. All I can do is think of her and how I would face another life-threatening event if it meant keeping her on this earth, even if for only one more day. Inhaling the fresh air in the middle of this wilderness should be comforting and what any Guardian Warrior should long for, but I long for Rose. Her smell, her breath, her touch, her eyes, her voice…
I secretly wish Parker had ignored my request and brought Rose to the village. The thought that she could be there now, waiting for me to return to her arms, is so powerful I rise to my feet. I stare into the wind, hoping to sense her, to know she wants this too. A pull—a draw—leaves me panting for air.
I want you… echoes to me and stuns me as I recognize her.
Running down the mountain at a blinding speed shouldn’t be what I’m doing, but it is. My legs carry me fast and far as I charge toward Rose. I tell myself that just a glimpse of the sun shining on her beautiful face will be enough to sustain me. I lie a lot to myself when it comes to Rose.
The closer I get, the more I sense her presence. I take to the trees for cover. As much as my eyes demand the sight of her, I can’t risk being seen. Her eyes are closed as I cross over limbs and trees without her noticing my approach. Sam? He didn’t miss a thing, as usual. His barking wakes her. I want to be angry at this dog but can’t be when the sun finds those hazel eyes. I lie on the branch above her to get a closer look into the eyes that own my world. I’m so entranced, I don’t move or notice a camera lens facing my direction. Not until the camera clicks as it takes a picture—of me.
Chapter Fourteen
Rose
Mama stands in my bedroom doorway. “I’m heading out.”
I glance up from painting my toenails. “Are you wearing lipstick?”
Her high heels clicking as she rushes down the hall confirms my suspicions. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. Kids! Load up! Mr. Hayes is taking us to the movies and dinner.”
I yell over my shoulder. “Don’t you mean, John?” I tease, but there is not one ounce of judgment in my heart. I know how much she loved my father, and I also know she deserves to build more memories, even if he can’t be a part of them.
“Gunner said to tell you, ‘work meeting,’ and he’ll see you tomorrow. I’m letting Sam out!”
“Tell Mr. Hayes—” The door slams, causing me to laugh.
Sitting at my desk, trying to enjoy the quiet house is Mission Impossible with barking Sam. Mama has been gone over two hours. Sam, still outside in the dark, has barked the whole damn time. If I had neighbors, I’m sure they would’ve shot the golden mutt by now.
Looking through my pictures on my laptop, I enjoy what I consider to be artwork: nature. Since I’m jobless, I get to see it all day, yet here I am at night, wanting more. Each picture holds its own beauty. The limbs, the branches, the bugs, the birds, the leaves—
In one of the pictures, something catches my eye, something shiny that doesn’t belong in a picture of a tree. This is the photo I teasingly took for Sam. I zoom in closer… closer…
I gasp.
I can’t believe it! After all this time of wondering about my sanity, about my heart, about my memory, there he is, the stranger from the woods, the one I’ve heard. The one I’ve felt. He’s trying to hide his body from me, lying on a thick limb, but my camera caught him peeking over with those hypnotic blue eyes. The eyes that own my dreams, my thoughts. The ones that own… me.
My fingers reach out to my computer screen and brush over his face, wondering if I can trust myself and allow myself to believe in him again. The fear driving through my self-doubt suddenly has anger bubbling to the surface. If he’s real, why not show himself before now? Why let me suffer—
Sam’s barking intrudes, halting my thoughts. I glance out the window. Across my yard stands my dog, barking up into a tree—
My eyes race back to my laptop screen to see the blue eyes in the tree. “No.” My shaking hand covers my gaping mouth. “Sam, have you been trying to tell me?”
But that would mean—
I run to my open window and fall to my knees, staring at my wonderful, smart, genius dog, barking into the beautiful tree, announcing the stranger’s arrival. Lightning bugs circle the tree.
I inhale sharply. Those bugs have been another sign I’ve missed. “You’re there, aren’t you?” I yell out my window.
Sam stops barking, probably happy someone is finally hearing his dog words.
Silence.
“Do you know what you’ve done to me?”
Lightning bugs flutter up and away from the tree. My heart pounds in my chest like a thunderstorm. “Answer me!”
Nothing.
“I believed I was going crazy! Do you care?”
Birds fly from the tree.
“I can’t do this anymore. I know you’re there! Come talk to me.”
Silence.
I snap. I—God forgive me—snap! “Come to me! No more hiding! Come to me!” I’m gasping for air by the time I’m done. I think I’m gasping for my life.
&nbs
p; Nothing.
That emotional exertion seems to have taken all I have left. I feel lightheaded and weak. My hands grasp my windowsill as I tiredly sit back on my bent legs. I believe I’m passing out as spots enter my vision, but I’m not. It’s lightning bugs flying toward my window. My cheek sinks to the windowsill as exhaustion takes over. Instead of swirling with life, knowing he’s real, I’m now a deadened sea of emotions. This time, I don’t scream as I speak my torturous truth. “But I need you.”
When the lighting bugs land on my windowsill, I almost don’t look up, but one bug lands on my hand, altering my view. From the tree comes the stranger, running from the dark of the woods to the light of my home. He runs faster than I’ve ever seen a human run. His dark hair flies loose in the wind. His body moves like a well-oiled machine.
The energy that surrounds him is as electrifying as the wild spirit he exudes. My heart screams to be grabbed and jolted back to life as if recognizing he’s my personal source of energy. My body is at attention. He runs sensually yet with an animalistic nature.
Finding strength again, I rise to my feet as his legs and pumping arms push him across my empty dead fields, not slowing down, not even as he closes the distance between him and my house—between him and me. Without a pause or delay, in mid-stride, he bends his knees and easily leaps from the ground. I gasp at his impossible strength and take an involuntary step backward as he lands on my porch roof as if he has done this a million times. There is a stillness in the air, except for my breath sucking in and out of my exasperated lungs. I can’t be sure what percentage is alarm and which pure exhilaration.
The first time I see him up close since the night in the woods is with hunched shoulders as he slowly uncurls his rippling body from his crouched position. His hair sprawls over his muscular back and shoulders. From underneath, two blond braids, one on each side of his neck, hang over his chest—a chest that announces formidable strength to be reckoned with. His trousers appear to be made out of some foreign material. Pockets down his legs sport mismatched buttons. His feet are bare and his chest naked with a leather strap and a sheath across it. Another strap holding what seems to be a small, barbaric knife is attached to his masculine bicep, another on his thigh. His tan arms look as if they ache to hold something. I instantly hope they long for me.
Rain (Stranger in the Woods Book 1) Page 12
