by Annie Cosby
Worry and unanswerable questions tangled in my chest and my neck began to ache, as though my ruby weighed a hundred pounds. I would have no more sleep tonight.
What if his spirit has already left his body? Or what if his leg never heals? We can’t go on The Great and Mighty Voyage if he can’t walk. Maybe it’s for the best. Just as long as he lives. I can’t go on and live here, forever in mourning, where his presence would haunt my every –
Haunt.
The Haunted Wood.
I dashed toward the little cottage’s front door and opened it slowly, squeezing through as small a hole as possible. I sprinted for the woods, only pausing when I saw the spindly, ghostly white tree. It glowed like the moon. If Wyn’s spirit had already left his body, if ghosts were real …
There were too many ifs, but my world had been shattered into a million glistening pieces and I couldn’t just stay sitting in that chair in the cottage. I had to do something, so I trudged into the tendrils of fog that threaded between the trees. I wished I’d gotten my questions for Pat Manor answered – about his wife’s ghost, what to do, how to find them. Because I was at a loss. Not just on how to summon a specter. But on how to continue with my life.
Without Wyn, I couldn’t go anywhere. I wouldn’t have the nerve to leave him behind, crippled or … worse. But I also wouldn’t want to stay with a mere shadow of the Wyn I’d once known. The sheer thought of it hurt my heart. My foot caught on a tree root and I stumbled, but I climbed back to my feet and walked on. I was desperate to see something – the girls, or my parents – but the desperation inside me rebelled against seeing anything that might resemble Wyn.
He’s alive, I told myself sternly. Why had I even come here?
Just then, a shudder ran through me. It took no time for me to discern the feeling of somebody watching me. Just like yesterday.
I turned slowly around, eyes carefully taking in every shadow around me. Something could easily hide in the underbrush or behind any number of trees. There was no earthly way for me to pick that out of the pitch black or the scattered banks of fog. Was I staring at that which would be the instrument of my demise at this very moment?
The memory of the stranger ticked at my brain. What could he possibly want with me?
The familiar weight of my ruby felt like a red-hot iron on the soft skin of my chest.
Trying hard to keep my composure, I turned and carefully picked my way back in the direction I’d come at a steady jog.
You shouldn’t have come here. You’re so foolish! I chastised myself.
This deep in the forest, I couldn’t tell east from west, but knew to keep to straight lines at all times. Wyn had taught me that. Many years ago, I’d wandered into the forest and gotten lost. It had taken nearly a day for a pair of hummingbirds to find me, curled up in the hollow of a tree, sobbing softly. I’d followed them diligently, hoping against hope that they’d lead me in the right direction. And that’s how Wyn found me, trailing along behind the hummingbirds. He’d wrapped me in his little arms, my knight without shining armor, and we’d held hands all the way home. Of course, we never told Maisie or Sarah or Vill.
A hummingbird flittered against my nose, waking me from my deep memories where I wanted to burrow and stay forever, warm and loved. The little bird danced frantically around my head and I wondered what had put him in such a state. Perhaps a cat had gotten too close. Or a stranger.
Darting, I stumbled over the underbrush at the tree line, and that’s when something brushed against my leg.
The air in my throat evaporated, and I turned slowly, only to find the hummingbird flittering against my calf.
What do you want?
It was then, as I turned to go home, that I saw them.
The girls.
My boots tamped softly on the leaves as I spun until I was facing them fully. My specters.
They stood there, between two baby oaks, giggling silently, a ghoulish presence that didn’t quite look tangible. As though a master potter had shaped these figures out of the fog.
I sucked in a breath, my heart pounding but afraid any movement would cause them to leave. It usually did.
They were both small, the size of six- or seven-year-olds, and their color was muted, as though someone held a diaphanous piece of silk in front of them. In matching dresses with puffed sleeves, they shifted and looked at me and laughed, but never spoke. No sound had ever come from them, no matter how many times I’d wailed, “Why do you haunt me?”
Tonight, I only whispered to myself, “This is real.”
But they weren’t who I wanted to see. If they’re real, then I can see my parents. And …
Wyn.
My heart beat faster and faster, thumping against my throat. I didn’t want to see Wyn. I needed to go back. Back to him. Because he was going to wake up. I wouldn’t see him here. Suddenly I was afraid. Terrified.
Then the sound of a branch snapping tore through the quiet night.
The specters disappeared instantaneously and without pausing to see what caused the noise, I raced back to the cottage as though I’d seen a ghost. Or two.
Chapter Nine
The morning dawned bright through the windows of the yellow cottage, and I was awake before Maisie or Sarah. When they finally stirred, I was sitting upright in the chair as though I hadn’t slept beside Wyn and held his warm palm all night.
“You’re up early, child,” Sarah said, her throat scratchy and dry from her night of crying. Tear tracks still stained her cheeks, and her bloodshot eyes went straight to her son. “Let me sit with him awhile, you’ve earned a break.”
“I don’t need a break,” I protested.
“Come,” Maisie commanded gently.
Felix tried to jump up to obey the command, but his injured leg had been bound by the doctor, so he finally gave up. He plopped his weight back down beside the bed and whined in frustration.
Also annoyed at having been pushed aside, I joined Maisie at the kitchen counter, where the old woman was filling a kettle from a bucket in the corner. “You need to give the woman some time with her son. Besides, I need you to go to Mary Finney’s. She finished the baking yesterday and she’ll have bread for us.”
I nodded silently and trudged obediently to the door, making sure to show my irritation in the slump of my shoulders.
Outside, the sun beat down rather mercilessly, and the sheep in the shed between Sarah’s and Maisie’s houses voiced their discomfort under those woolen blankets they were born with. I made note to take them out to the fields later, but my throat hurt at the prospect of doing that without Wyn.
My boots kicked up tiny dust storms as I shuffled down the road, and it was those clouds of brown that I was watching when my shoulder met something hard.
“You should watch where you’re going!”
“Be nice, Louisa, her lover is dying,” another voice said.
I looked up to find a gaggle of Killybeg girls standing before me.
He’s not my lover, I thought wretchedly. It took everything in me, all the manners I’d ever been taught, not to turn and walk away without a greeting. In a bigger town, I could have, but not here where the word would spread of my temper. Not that I cared, for my own sake, but it would embarrass Maisie and Sarah awfully.
“He’s not her lover,” Louisa said, louder, with a nasty grin at Corinthia, the one who had chastised her. Only it wasn’t really chastising. Corinthia had hated me ever since the day Wyn and I trained Felix, still a puppy, to attack her ankles. She was in the habit of wearing awful pink socks up to her knees, and it had been easy to get Felix to gnaw at them with his stubby puppy teeth. But when Vill found out, the stunt had gotten Wyn locked up in the house for nearly two days.
“She wishes he was, but he’s still open game,” Louisa added.
“Is he okay?” a girl with fiery red hair spoke up. That was Jules Finney, and she was the nicest of the lot. Sometimes I thought Jules and I could be friends, but she must have found that the ot
her girls offered her something better, because she treated me like a strange little wolf, avoiding me as though she was slightly afraid.
I hoped my fear for Wyn didn’t show to these predators. I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction. Surely the heavy bags beneath my eyes and my dry, cracked lips indicated that I’d been crying all night. But nobody said anything about it. Not even Cath, who stood behind them all, her eyes on the ground like a coward.
“He’s going to be fine,” I said confidently.
“Good, I’d like to kiss him some day,” Louisa said, grinning.
My cheeks ignited. It was all these girls thought about, kissing and men. But even more disparaging was the fact that I’d been wanting that from Wyn for a long while now, too. The thought of him doing that with Louisa made my insides whip into a tornado.
And that’s when I knew what I had to do.
I would never leave Wyn. Forget The Great and Mighty Voyage. I wouldn’t leave him to the likes of Louisa or even Jules Finney. He was mine. Mine and only mine. If he never walked again, never left Killybeg, neither would I. I would stay here and learn to care about kissing and mending clothes and marriage and babies and sheep. I would learn to sew and make soup from whatever was in the house. I could do that. I would do that. For Wyn. My knight, my protector.
A smile crept across my face and I stepped toward the girls. “Actually, he is my lover.”
Not waiting around to answer questions with more fibs, I pushed into their shocked little group and they parted to let me pass. I was, all of a sudden, a girl on a mission.
It took all day, but it finally happened that Sarah and Maisie were gone at the same time. Maisie had to let the sheep into the field, and she’d insisted Sarah “get a drop of sun” on her face that day. I eagerly watched them leave.
Felix lay on the bed now, fast asleep, but he would hardly be a problem.
The spirit has ways of knowing when there is something to wake up for, Jan had said. But Wyn’s spirit had yet to pass that message on to the parts of him that would bring him back to me. So I had to take matters into my own hands.
Or lips.
Give him something to live for.
I sat, this time on the edge of the bed instead of the stiff wooden chair, and the mattress gave way beneath me, shifting Wyn’s body as though he was awake.
My heart was beating faster than any time I could remember – even the day before last, when I’d thought he would kiss me. I couldn’t remember hearing of a girl in Killybeg ever doing what I was about to do.
Wyn’s lips were parted ever so slightly, but the fact that those huge brown eyes that set my heart on fire were lidded made it easier for me to gather my courage. Breathing shallowly, I bent over him.
Inches from his face, I could feel the soft breath escaping his mouth. I paused, studying his still lashes and the tiny pores on his nose. I put a hand to his cheek with a touch as light as a feather, and brushed it ever so softly. His pumice-rough skin scraped against me, and I realized he’d grown into a man almost without my noticing. I studied the little hairs above his lips, so delicate in contrast to the ugly gashes on his forehead. And the way his eyebrows were scrunched every so slightly in sleep. As if he worried, even as he slept. I wanted him to stop worrying. I needed to bring him out of there.
I pressed my lips against his, softly at first, my eyes open, watching his. Then I gave in and closed my eyes, pressing harder.
His lips, so soft and warm, felt perfect. So right. As though my own were made to do this, carved from stone to fit against his for this very purpose.
Wake up, Wyn!
Our first kiss couldn’t be our last. It would be my undoing.
The deep breath he drew in against my lips took my heart with it.
“Ruby!” he gasped against my mouth.
I jumped away and water sprang to my eyes. I hadn’t thought ahead to this point in time, to his reaction. I hadn’t gotten past the part where I put my heart and soul on the line and wondering whether or not it would work. “Wyn …” I said breathlessly, in a voice that sounded not wholly my own.
He gulped and looked around at the empty room, eyes wide. Felix lifted his head, his ears alert. When Wyn was satisfied we were alone, his eyes found me again.
“Ruby,” he repeated.
The tears dripped over the edge of my eyelids like a trickling stream threatening to become a thundering waterfall. “You’re awake,” I squeaked, trying to contain my warring emotions.
“Yeah, apparently thanks to you,” he said with a grin.
“I’m sorry –”
“Don’t be,” he said. He had to stretch to do it, but he took my quivering hand in his. “Don’t be, Ruby.”
Every time I’d ever seen his face, which was every day of my existence, rose to the surface of my being in a wave of happiness.
It threatened to drown me. “Okay,” I choked out.
I settled back down on the side of the bed, and we sat in silence as Felix crawled to Wyn’s face and began licking the cuts on his cheek.
“You okay, boy?” Wyn said, rubbing the sheepdog behind the ears.
“He has a hurt leg,” I explained. “Just like you.”
He looked down at the mountain holding up his left leg. The muscles in his neck trembled and his right leg raised, but his left wobbled drunkenly.
“Damn,” he muttered. “I haven’t felt a pain like that before.”
“I’m so happy you’re awake,” I said, my smile growing. The anxiety and fear hadn’t lifted all at once, but it was starting to drain away like the puddles after a summer storm. “Wyn, what happened?”
He stopped struggling with his leg and lay back against his pillow, the exertion showing on his face. “I don’t want to tell you, Rube,” he said.
“Wyn.”
His lashes covered his eyes as he looked down, ashamed. When he met my eyes again, he said, “I went to get work at the amethyst mine.” He gulped and shook his head, his eyes flying to the ceiling. “They said no. Only they didn’t say no. Instead they called me a worthless kid and laughed in my face. I could have handled it if they’d just said no.”
I looked down to where our hands were still folded together. It looked as natural as anything, but felt more exhilarating than anything in the world.
“But I left with them still laughing at my back. I was really angry.” A nerve ticked in his jaw, and I knew the anger hadn’t yet subsided. “So I crept back in and stole a bunch of their stuff. Tools and picks and all sorts of things they have … or had.”
“Oh, Wyn,” I breathed. “Why didn’t you just come talk to me?”
Wyn bit his bottom lip. “I was embarrassed. How am I supposed to take you across the sea if everybody still thinks I’m a kid?”
“I don’t think you are,” I said.
“Well, I acted like one. I went to the abandoned diamond mine and started messing around in there with their tools. I was sure I could find something – anything – to sell or take with us. Just to get us on our way.”
“Edwyn Martin, that mine isn’t stable,” I whispered plaintively.
A smile quirked his lips. “I know that now.”
Sniffling, I playfully hit the only non-bruised patch I could find on his arm. Then I fell upon him, sobbing in earnest, and threw my arms around his neck. He drew in a sharp breath of pain and I recoiled.
“You could have been killed,” I said sternly.
Chatter from outside was audible, but inside the house we sat in relieved silence. That is, until Wyn said, “But that wasn’t the only reason I was in the diamond mine.”
My eyebrows pushed together. What other reason could he have had for going to an old, abandoned, notoriously dangerous mine?
“Rube, I have something to show you.”
Chapter Ten
He couldn’t walk very well on his own, so we shuffled along, his arm slung over my shoulder. We met townspeople who greeted him excitedly, but steered carefully away from the field wher
e Maisie and Sarah were. If they knew he was up and about, he’d be sent straight back to bed. And I would get quite an earful.
It was slow going, but I didn’t mind, as long as I was touching Wyn, feeling the warmth of his body. When we reached the bottom of the steps to Diamond’s Peak, I grew suspicious.
“Are we going to the bakery?” I asked.
“Of course not,” he replied, hopping onto the first step with his good foot and nearly toppling me over in his quest for stability. “We’re going to the mine.”
“Why?” I asked, dread creeping up my spine.
“Just wait.”
“It’s all caved in,” I protested. “How do you think you got that lump on your head and a mashed-up leg?”
“Just wait,” he repeated, huffing as he struggled up the steps.
A few more perilous hops brought us to the giant pile of rocks that had come tumbling down on my knight.
“See?” I said, waving my free arm at the rubble. Whatever idea he had up his sleeve was making me anxious.
“Help me over there,” he said, pointing toward the grass on the far side of the cave opening. The side that faced the sea.
I did as he ordered, inching around the hill, and my stomach did a somersault as the horizontal path we treaded turned into a slight grassy slope. Wyn’s good foot slipped, but I caught him and hauled him back to even ground. My arms around him, he faced me, my nose barely reaching his chin.
His smile struck my heart. “Keep going,” he insisted, and turned away to move farther around the hill. And so we went like an awkward, two-bodied cat.
Soon it Killybeg wasn’t beneath us, but instead the ocean, moving in a steady rhythm against the hill far below, the tide seeming to wave up at us, begging us to drop into its welcoming arms.
“Where are we going?” I asked, my voice belying my fear.
“Right there,” he said triumphantly.
I tore my eyes away from the treacherous slope and the waves below to see a small opening in the hillside. It was maybe half the size of the cavern, opening on the path to Diamond’s Peak, but it had to lead to the abandoned mine. The hole here was wide, but not nearly tall enough for a man to walk through. The sun, in the middle of the long process of setting, was flinging a handful of rays through the opening into the space beyond.
