The Secrets of Moonshine

by Denise Daisy

  They were some distance past the city limits of Moonshine now. Large trees grew close to the road, their foliage making a tunnel over the pavement. Travis drove down the narrow road for quite a way, offering no conversation. She studied his side profile, not sure if he felt her gaze. If he did, he didn’t turn to look her way. His eyes remained straight forward, his thoughts unreadable.

  He turned onto a narrow dirt road. They bumped along over the uneven terrain, the truck making its way across rocks, holes, and large roots of trees protruding through the ground. He drove until the road nearly vanished, finally stopping near an abandoned cottage, camouflaged within the dense foliage. He crossed over and opened her door, offering his hand, he led her to a narrow footpath leading up to the secluded cottage.

  She looked past the worn wooden fence and surveyed the overgrown dwelling place. Lush vines with blooming flowers covered the roof, cascading down over the large picture windows. Leafy bushes hugged the exterior of the house, wild and unkempt to the point of blocking the steps to the porch. Two weeping willows stood vigil on both sides of a cobblestone path that lay buried by overrun grass and weeds. A tall elm grew near the cottage; she noticed a weathered birdhouse hanging from the lowest branch.

  “Looks like your real fixer upper. Who lives here--or who lived here?”

  Travis picked up a piece of the fallen fence and leaned it against one of the posts. “No one has ever lived here. It’s remained empty ever since its construction. Legend says, one day it‘s owner will arrive and will have they key to open the door.”

  The heat rushed over her again, weakening her legs, and for a moment she thought they might give away. She had a haunting suspicion that Travis thought she was the owner of the small cottage, and a gnawing dread that he was right. But, she didn’t have the key.

  “Would I be trespassing if I went in?”

  He smiled and she knew the answer. She grasped the smooth wood of the small gate, her slender fingers fumbling nervously with the rusted latch. The bolt loosened and the handle lifted much easier than she imagined it would. She pushed it open, and stepped inside the much overgrown yard.

  Travis remained silent, his eyes fixed upon her, watching her as she high stepped through the tall grass. Her pale, slender body resembled a beautiful flower wafting along with the afternoon breeze. She was not aware of his observations as she made her way up the porch steps, pushing aside the hanging vines blocking her entrance into the cottage. She took in a deep breath, placed her hand on the doorknob and turned. It was locked.

  “So is there a magic word I should say?” She asked while placing both hands against the door.

  The corners of his mouth formed a slight grin, and she wondered if he knew she was not ready to enter the cottage. He nodded to the weathered porch swing and she immediately took his invitation. He courteously dusted the dirt from the faded cushion before allowing her to sit, and then he took the seat beside her. She pushed off with her feet, and the swing swayed gently. A noticeable creak sounded from the eroded chain connecting to the wooden roof overhead. A cool gust of wind stirred the dust and dead leaves on the porch sending a chill. The smell of oncoming rain combined with the strong scents of the earth permeated the air. The sun slowly started to withdraw and hide behind the approaching gray clouds, covering most of the sky. Large raindrops began falling on the tall grass, flattening it to the ground.

  “It has sat empty for years, a little longer won’t matter.”

  She smiled, “I do want to go in, it’s just that….”

  “No need to explain. I understand.”

  She wondered if he could understand. The emotions of the past week continued to overwhelm her. The secrets of Moonshine were unraveling slowly, each revelation taking its toll on her. Now, Travis was expecting her to walk into a two hundred year old cottage that supposedly belonged to her, and for some reason she was afraid her mind could not handle what was beyond the door. It was Travis’s unexpected question that finally gave her the courage.

  “What made your decision to stay behind and write the story?”

  There was only one answer to his question. Should she give it? She knew she could play it safe and give an obvious reason such as, she thought it would be a great adventure, and her chance to write the story she always dreamed of writing.

  However, she didn’t say that. Instead, she decided to answer honestly from her heart.

  “Because, I want to do this for you. I want to help you get back what was taken away from you. You saved my life, if I do this, I can save yours.”

  What she neglected to say was that she believed she was in love with him and this would be a test of her love. Would she be able to write the story that would send him back into the arms of his love in Eden? She could if her love was only for him, and not herself. Her heart ached at the thought.

  The rain continued to fall, tip toeing gently across the overgrown yard. A soft rumble of thunder sounded in the distance.

  She stood, resolute. “Let’s see if the roof leaks.”

  Travis’ dark eyes locked on hers. She could see her disclosure had touched him. She nodded to the weather-beaten birdhouse hanging from the branch of the large elm.

  “It’s always been a habit of mine to keep a spare key in a bird house. If this truly is my cottage, there will be a spare key in the bottom of that house.”

  He watched her as she exited the porch and approached the elm. The gentle rain kissed her face as she reached her willowy arm into the small birdhouse. She moved her hand about and then a smile suddenly formed, as she gracefully pulled her arm from the wooden abode, waving a small brass key in the air

  She passed the key to Travis and watched as he turned the lock and pushed open the weathered blue door. Bronwyn took a deep breath and stepped inside. The peculiar heat sensation once again began at the soless of her feet and permeated upward through her body. Her pulse quickened. She was home! The sights, the design, the furnishings, were all so familiar. Every part of the cottage was ablaze with her personality. She toured the tiny cottage, reacquainting with every detail. The entrance hall gave way to a small, cozy living room. A large, three-sided bay window with a cushioned seat faced outside on the east side of the property. A soft red couch with fluffy throw pillows faced a beautiful stone fireplace with an oversized hearth. A thick, woolly, white rug lay in front of the fireplace, taking the chill off the cold hard wood. Beautiful paintings of scenery adorned the walls, and she noticed that each picture was of a night scene and all with a full moon. She smiled at the sight of a dark cherry baby grand piano standing in the corner of the room.

  The kitchen gave off a warm, intimate feeling. Pale yellow walls and white cabinetry circled the entire room. Another amply sized picture window, covered with white lace curtains, faced the back yard. A small country table with four chairs sat in the middle of the inviting room. An antique hutch full of beautifully painted dishes rested against the far wall. A comfortable love seat faced yet another fireplace. Bronwyn surveyed the room and then walked toward a small, antique roll top desk. She lifted the cover of the desk, rolling it backwards. On the inside lay a single thick book. Its leather cover and antique lock gave it the appearance of a secret diary. She picked it up and ran her fingers across the soft leather cover. She glanced across the kitchen, taking inventory of the window above the sink, the mantle of the fireplace, and the antique hutch. Her eyes fell upon the object she was searching for. Cunningly placed amidst the colorfully painted dishes was a miniature birdhouse. She approached the hutch, opened the delicate glass cabinet, and retrieved from the tiny abode a miniscule key hanging on a delicate silver chain. Crossing back over to the desk she anxiously placed the key into the lock and turned it. The latch clicked and the leather strap fell from its casing. She opened the book reverently. All the pages were blank, save for the first one. Hand written beautifully across the front page, in her best penmanship, were the words:

  A Story of Deliverance

  By Bronwyn Sterling


  She sat down hard, the heat rising, her heart racing, her head spinning. Had the keys hidden in the bird houses not been enough, the book she held in her hands, her name and handwriting occupying the pages, more than confirmed this was indeed her cottage, and she was certainly where she was destined to be.

  “I found it.” She whispered cradling the heavy book in her arms.

  Travis walked to the desk, accepting the book from her hand. His eyes grew troubled as he noticed the key laying on the desk and the opened lock on the cover. He glanced at Bronwyn and then back to the first page. He skimmed through the blank pages of the book, as if he were looking for something. His dark eyes closed as he reverently latched the cover. She knew this book meant everything to Him. It was his redemption, his release from the confines of this dimension, the story would place him back in his Eden, and back in the arms of the one his heart belonged to. The thought weighed heavy on her.

  She left him alone with the book and stepped out onto the back porch, inhaling the scents of rain and wet earth, replacing the musty stale air of the cottage. Her head was spinning; she needed the fresh air. Just like the front, the back was overgrown with vines and plants, dried leaves, dirt and cobwebs. Two eroded and splintered rocking chairs sat upon the porch.

  The yard was a nice size, a walnut tree, along with an apple tree and a couple of elms, all grew tall, giving ample shade on a hot day. She noticed a small pond fairly hidden by the overgrown brush. A two-tiered cement birdbath full of green mossy water sat near the back porch. She leaned across the wet railing. Despite the rain, she could hear the rushing water of a small creek cutting across the back of the property, and disappearing into the dense woods.

  The rain began to increase in intensity, pounding on the roof, the sound of it so deafening that she didn’t hear Travis join her. He removed a knife from his boot and began cutting back some of the vines growing wildly over the roof, and cascading downward.

  She continued to lean across the porch railing, not minding at all that the rain was blowing into her face. Her mind was entertaining a thousand thoughts, and now that she discovered the book, she was more than ever eager to begin writing the story. This call on her life was irrevocable. There would be no turning back. However, there were still things that needed attending to before she could begin. She needed to locate her previous writing of Moonshine, no matter how painful it may be. She hoped her parents had not destroyed the book, but knowing her mother, Bronwyn was certain she had it packed away and hidden somewhere in the attic. She felt that if she could locate the old manuscript, it would shed some light upon some of the mysteries still veiled to her.

  She also knew she needed to go back to California and retrieve her things. If she was leaving everything behind to pen the story, then there were certainly things that needed done before she could settle down and write. She needed to turn in her notice at the beach condominium she and Ryan once shared. The place was luxurious, expensive, and something she could never afford on her own, but when Ryan left her they had already paid for a full year together, giving her a ten month sentence in the home they were supposed to share together. She stayed away as much as possible, but still, the thought of leaving it all together made her feel as if she were moving on in some way.

  Her eye caught sight of Travis intensely cutting back the overgrown foliage with his knife. The skill he displayed in using his knife, and the strength in his arms impressed her. Everything about Travis Colton appealed to her. She watched him prune back the vines for a while before she spoke.

  “You’re pretty good with that knife.”

  He threw a handful of cut vines into the yard. “I prefer it. It does the work much more quietly than a gun.”

  This time Bronwyn was taken aback. She had never sensed a violent side to him, and while watching him hack away at more vines, she wondered how futile it would be to shoot them down. She knew that he didn’t carry the knife for pruning and landscaping. She recalled her fourth night in Moonshine, when he approached the pre-festival dance, agitated, bloody, and dirty. Later that same night in the gardens, she witnessed Falcon slit a man’s throat with the same type of knife. During her meeting with the council Falcon had mentioned how he and Travis had taken care of a couple of spies from Eden. She thought back to the grave marker in the secret garden, baring the name of Travis’s brother Brennan, and how Mavis confessed that her husband’s death was caused by Abaddon‘s men. Even though Travis seemed like a peaceful, composed person, she admitted to herself that she had only known him for a little over a week, and while some mysteries of this place were revealed to her, there were still multitudes of secrets behind his dark eyes, and what he was capable of, she was not sure. However disturbing this may be, she knew he was carrying the knife for their safety, and the thought sent a chill through her body.

  She leaned against the back door. “I need to go back to California and take care of some personal business and get my things. I want to stop in Texas on the way. I’m sure my mother has my old manuscript hidden away somewhere. I want to try and find it. I think it will answer a lot of questions running through my mind right now.”

  Travis stopped hacking away at the overgrowth. He wiped the rain from his face with his forearm, and threw another handful of vines into the yard.

  “When do you want to leave?”

  “The sooner the better. But I have no way to get there, and Moonshine doesn’t have car rentals.”

  He wiped the blade of the knife across his jeans, and placed it back into his boot. “You can take my truck.”

  He walked past her, entering back into the cottage. She followed him in, sensing a change in his behavior. Travis, who usually appeared calm, now seemed restless and unsettled. She picked up the leather bound book, along with the key, and headed into the living room.

  “What’s bothering you?”

  He remained silent, staring out of the large picture window facing the front yard. This characteristic of his intrigued her; if he had no desire to answer a question, he never gave a reason as to why, he simply refused to respond. She knew it would be futile to ask it again. Instead, she turned her attention to the piano. She laid the book and key on top of the instrument and took a seat on the bench. She raised the cover and gently ran her fingers over the ivory keys while watching him stare out of the window, wishing she could read his thoughts. Bringing her attention back to the piano, she walked her fingers down the keys, moving them with ease, gliding effortlessly, playing a melody that attempted to unlock a memory. She struggled to remember when she had played this particular piece before. There had to be an event, a location, maybe a musical she had performed in once. What is the name of the song, where had she heard it before, and why did it stir her so? The melody was beautiful, unleashing a flood of emotion. Her spirit ached and her fingers trembled as she continued to play. The speed of her fingers increasing along with the beating of her heart.

  Lost in the music, she was unaware the song broke Travis’ gaze out of the window and brought his complete attention on her. He watched her as she played, her soul as lost in the music as she was here in Moonshine. He could see her mind struggling to remember, to hear the message the melody was trying to tell her.

  She finished the piece and sat still, staring at the ivory keys through the tears welling up in her eyes and trickling down her cheeks. She quickly wiped them from her face, not wanting Travis to see her crying. However, she realized it was too late, when she saw his dark eyes watching her. She stood quickly, collected the book and key from the top of the piano, and retreated to the big bay window. Curling up on the soft cushion, she turned her attention to the misty pane, watching the soft rain roll downward. A single tear followed suit as it escaped her eyes and trailed gently down her cheek.

  “I don’t know where that came from,” she whispered softly. “Believe it or not, I’ve never played that song before.”

  Travis gave no response. He came over and sat near her on the window seat. Reaching for
ward, he tenderly wiped the tear from her cheek. Her heart raced at his touch. She had been in this same situation before, alone with him in a secluded location, searching his eyes while the rain poured down outside. Just as before, she found herself deeply drawn to him. Their eyes locked on each other; neither one looked away. Bethany said the eyes were the window to the soul; that if you stare into someone’s long enough you will connect with them. Yet, she felt at a disadvantage. She knew the longer Travis looked into hers, he could read her, connect with her, know what she was feeling. However, his eyes still held so many secrets, no matter how long she stared, she could never penetrate them.

  Distracting herself with the miniature key, she held tightly in her fist, allowed her to pull her eyes away from his entrancing gaze. She wound and rewound the delicate chain around her index finger; all the while feeling his gaze upon her. She dared not look up again. If his heart truly belonged to another, why did he tempt her so? Was he oblivious of the affect he had on her when he sat so close? Did he not understand how painful it was for her to feel the slightest touch of his hand? She wondered about the mysterious woman of Eden who held his heart. Who was she? By what name did Travis call her? Why had she remained in Eden when so many others were forced to leave? Could Bronwyn ever compete with her for his love? She imagined some ethereal goddess of perfection locked in a tall watchtower, somewhat like Rapunzel awaiting her rescue by the remarkable Travis. She sighed, lost in her thoughts, as she nervously wrapped the chain in and out of her fingers. His hand suddenly touched hers, catching her off guard. She looked up as he gently removed the chain from her fingers. He opened the clasp, holding it up as to place it around her neck. Feeling her face flush with color, she turned away and lifted her hair. His strong hands reached in front of her as he laid the key on her chest, then she felt his fingers gently touched her neck as he fastened the clasp.