by B. N. Toler
“Have a drink with me?” He shakes the bottle gently.
“I’m not much of a drinker,” I warn him.
“I’ll take my chances.” He exits the barn and walks towards the fence. I follow, curious to see what he’s up to.
He leans against the fence, sipping from the bottle. When I join him, he holds the bottle out to me.
I take it and toss it back, immediately coughing from the burn.
“Smooth,” Rhett smirks and takes the bottle back as I keel over hacking.
“Like water,” I gasp, when my coughing eases.
“Wanna walk?” He motions a hand in the direction he intends for us to go.
“Okay.” We walk along the fence line in silence. I take the bottle from Rhett and take another swig.
“Easy, Killer,” Rhett laughs, then takes the bottle back.
“What?” I cough again from the burning the amber fluid leaves in my throat.
“You trying to get drunk?”
“After today, I think I need to.”
“What’s been so rough about today?” he asks, his eyes scrunched.
“Well, I’ve been called an asshole and walked in on you naked,” I remind him.
“I called you an ass, not an asshole,” he corrects me.
“Is there a difference?”
“Do you really want me to answer that?” he asks dryly.
“No.” I press my lips together trying not to laugh.
He bends down and picks up a stick near the fence and begins tapping it against the posts as we pass them. “Hmm,” he mumbles. “I can see why you would need a drink after seeing me naked,” he jests. “You’re not embarrassed by that or anything are you?” He takes another swig of bourbon.
“Oh, you mean standing in front of you, butt-naked? No, not at all.” I shrug nonchalantly.
“Well, I’m not embarrassed and I’ve seen you practically naked at the club.” I had forgotten about the lap dance I gave him at the club. Not to mention the stare down he gave my body the first night he brought me here and made me give him his coat back. Heat flames my face as I remember the look in his eyes, filled with something raw and hungry. It disgusted me the way he looked at me that night. Remembering it now, that look in his eyes makes me feel raw and hungry. I see myself in that stare. I shake my head, scolding myself for such thoughts.
“So what made you go into stripping?” A smidge of judgment colors his tone.
“I prefer to call it mature dancing.”
“How politically incorrect of me.” He plays along.
I bend over to scratch my ankles where a mosquito bit me already. Rhett halts and waits for me. “I thought I could find vampires.”
“At a strip club?”
“Well, it’s a long story.” I shrug. The sun has fallen behind the tree line and lightening bugs begin to pepper the air with flicks of light.
“I’m all ears.” He takes another swig and hands me the bottle. I sip it and hand it back to him. I proceed to tell him my entire life story, which the influence of the alcohol only seems to encourage. It completely destroys my wall of secrecy. It only seems fair to share my story; after all, he shared his.
“Well, I was trying to find the lower element, I guess. You know. Like bad, creepy, people who go to strip clubs.”
“So you think stripping is evil?”
“I guess I thought it was at one point, but now I don’t. I met a lot of nice people and it really showed me things aren’t always what they seem.” I catch a lightening bug in my hands and peak through to watch it inside my grasp before letting it go.
“How so?”
“Well, I made a great friend. She works there because she needs money to pay doctors’ bills for her daughter who is dying. She strips at night and stays home with her child during the day.”
“Why didn’t you heal the girl?” Rhett stops at the edge of the fence line and leans against the top beam with his forearms, staring out into the field.
I follow suit. “I met her once. Very sweet girl, but she was one foot in.”
“One foot in?”
“That’s what Lucy called it.” My heart aches at the thought of her, but I continue. “Someone that’s already gone. They’re only here because their spirit or soul is fueling their existence.”
“Oh.” He nods as if he understands. “Lucy sounds like she was a wise woman.”
I turn my head away from him. Lucy was a lot of things apparently. Like a liar.
“The little girl must have been special to you.” He turns his body towards me, now leaning his shoulder against the fence.
“She was so at peace with dying. She was actually comforting me.” I shake my head, the memory of beautiful Ella weighing on my mind. “I went back to the club the night you took me because I was going to tell her mother I could save her if she was willing to give up her own life.”
Rhett’s brow furrows. “That’s forbidden,” he scolds.
“Is it really? Why should we not get to save someone that way? If a mother would lay down her own life for her child to live, why should we not help them?”
“That’s not allowed, and you know it. God has a plan,” he lectures me, his expression angry.
“You believe in God?”
“Of course I do.” His tone defensive. “Why wouldn’t I?”
The words you’re damned come to mind, but I can’t say that.
“Oh, I see.” He nods elegantly in controlled offense. “I’m a soulless creature, and I’m going to hell, right?”
Mental note: Add mind reader to his list of gifts. “I just thought…”
His mouth twists into a half smile, but the smile is weighted with insult and contempt. “I tell you what. You worry about your soul, and I’ll worry about mine, okay?” His brow creases and the muscles in his jaw tighten. Looks like I hit a very sensitive nerve.
He’s pissed at me. Why should I care if he’s mad? It’s not my fault his kind have a bad reputation. I was taught that healers are on one side and blood healers are on the other—but the line is blurring. Healer and blood healer were black and white to me when I first arrived here. I’m a healer—I’m good. Rhett’s a blood healer—he’s bad. But that logic—if you can call it that—doesn’t quite fit anymore. Knowing him now, everything is gray, and the line isn’t so clear cut. I’ve been trying to jam a square into a circle, determined it will fit, but it won’t. Rhett doesn’t fit into the evil, soulless stereotype of blood healers. Rhett isn’t soulless. “I’m sorry Rhett,” I stutter.
“It’s no matter, Aldo. To answer your question, yes, I believe in God, and I believe in what we were taught.”
“I don’t know if I believe any of it anymore,” I sigh.
“Believe what?” he asks confused.
“Believe we are God-sent and do God’s work. We could be aliens for all anyone knows.” I shrug.
“Aldo, come on. Now you doubt God?”
I think about it a minute before responding. I can’t say I don’t believe in God, because I do. I just don’t like his decisions sometimes. “It just makes me mad,” I reply.
“Death is normal. It’s part of the cycle. Death is what makes living so much more beautiful.”
“Tell that to the person about to die.”
“We can’t save everyone,” he reiterates and crosses his arms.
“I learned that the hard way at fourteen when Lucy took me to a healing and the woman was one foot in. That’s when I realized I could get information from people.” I grab the bottle and take another swig.
“Oh, yeah?”
After I tell Rhett about Heidi and how I discovered my gift, he smiles softly.
“You can’t blame yourself. You’re a healer, but that comes with limitations. We weren’t created to decide who lives or dies. The little girl Ella couldn’t have been saved, even if her mother gave you her energy.”
“How do you know?”
“Because we’re meant to save life, not take it. It’s not only for
bidden because it interferes with death, it’s forbidden because you have to kill someone to do it.”
“What if it were a bad person’s life I took?”
“It’s not up to us, Aldo.” His tone is stern.
“I guess I see it differently.” I shrug.
“Look at me.”
I turn, shocked by his order.
“You could not have saved her. Say it!” He stares down at me
“I could not have saved her,” I repeat, rolling my eyes and turning away from him.
“Damn it, Aldo! Look me in the eyes and say it like you mean it!” He turns me towards him, sending chills through me as he touches me. I stare into his dark, dreamy eyes. Dear Lord, his eyes are gorgeous. My inner self nods in agreement.
“Why are you doing this?” I drop my head, avoiding his intense gaze.
“Because you need to stop blaming yourself; not everything is your fault.” He lifts my chin with his finger. “Now say it and mean it.” He lowers his voice, one hand still holding my shoulder, forbidding me from turning.
“I could not have saved her,” I mumble, still somewhat defiant, but hoping he’ll accept it.
“Not good enough!” His grip tightens on my shoulders and his energy pours into me.
“Please stop,” I beg, not wanting to break down. I try to break free from his grip, but fail.
“Say it!” he orders through clenched teeth.
I fall to my knees, and he drops with me. “I could not have saved her,” I manage to get out through my tears. “I couldn’t save her,” I say it again, over and over.
Rhett pulls me close and wraps me in his embrace. His energy takes on a new feel, not warmth, but a soothing, comforting feel; like somehow his energy is transforming to give me what I need. Not physical healing, but emotional healing. I inhale him. He smells of cologne and soap, delicious and fresh.
As I cry, I babble about everything. We sit on our knees facing one another, and he listens to me attentively. If there was anything left that Rhett did not already know about me, he sure knows it now. I pour out my devastation over Thomas, my failure as a mother, how I abandoned my brothers, and by the time I finish, I have calmed and my tears have dried up. I take swigs of the whiskey throughout my meltdown and now feel the warm glow on my cheeks, which I’m sure, only enhances my puffy eyes and runny nose.
“Come on, let’s walk a little farther.” Rhett stands and helps me up. I hold on to him, my encroaching drunken stupor taking over, making me stumble. His energy feels duller now, but I know it’s because I’m getting used to it, like he said I would. We pass the end of the fence and Rhett clears his throat.
“It’s all perspective,” he continues.
“So now you’re going to try and put a positive spin on it?” I laugh.
“No. More like a bright horizon.”
“Okay. I’ll humor you. Please share.” I lean my head against his arm and he tenses. I immediately raise my head, realizing I’m getting way too comfortable.
He clears his throat. “Have you ever thought your story sounds impossible? Almost like a nightmare?”
I roll my eyes at how he hits the nail right on the head. “Yes, I have.”
“If you could do anything, what’s the first thing you would do?”
I think about this for a minute. Finding my brothers is the first thing that comes to mind. Find Thomas? The thought of Thomas feels foreign for some reason and doesn’t make my heart ache, like it has before. “I don’t know,” I sigh.
We make our way down a hill where a lake sits at the bottom. “I didn’t know this was here.”
“It was dark when you arrived and we went riding on the other side. I thought you might like it here.” The water is flat as glass, and ripples make way sporadically where fish grab bugs off of the surface. A large oak tree stands near it, the branches reaching over the water’s surface.
“It reminds me of…” It looks like my favorite scene from my dream. It’s not exactly the same, but it’s eerily similar. But eerie or not, it’s beautiful.
“I know.” He nods.
We sit at the lake, chatting idly. Time seems to stand still as we talk about everything. It feels good to share it with someone. Someone who has experienced pain as I have—although different. Someone who can understand at least in part. It has been years since I have confided in someone real, who could understand outside of my own subconscious. Who else could I talk to about what I am, what has happened to me, or what I’ve been through? No one. I left my brothers, Lucy is gone, and Thomas is gone too.
I lay down in the soft grass while Rhett sits up leaning on his hands to support him. I stare at his profile, the perfect cuts of his nose and jaw, and bite my lip. He’s stunning.
He looks down at me and smiles. “You know, there are a lot of good things ahead.”
I don’t respond. I just let my gaze wonder, taking in the view. It’s too hard to imagine anything good ever happening again, and even if it did I wouldn’t deserve ,it.
“Do you mind if I swim?” I stand and kick off my sandals.
“Uh, no.”
I giggle as I stumble trying to remove my shirt.
Rhett stares up at me and turns away quickly when he sees me in my bra.
“Oh, like you haven’t seen it all anyway,” I say dryly.
“Are you skinny dipping?” He still faces the other way.
“I’m not going to swim in my clothes,” I mock him, with a duh in my voice. “I’ve never skinny dipped in real life. You know, like, when I was awake.” I continue to giggle. I strip off the remaining articles of clothing and glance over my shoulder at Rhett, who is still turned away from me. I shake my head, but I appreciate him being a gentlemen. The water is warm, but cooler than my own body temperature which feels like an inferno heated from the whiskey. As I submerge myself into the water, my body immediately relaxes. I wade deeper until my chest is covered. I whistle to Rhett.
“You can look now,” I call to the bank where he sits.
He turns his head cautiously and then relaxes once he realizes I am fully submerged. “How’s the water?” he yells watching me from the bank.
“It feels awesome. Get in!” I dip under water quickly. Rhett looks around and stands slowly, appearing to be mulling it over. “I don’t bite,” I yell teasing through my giggles. “Not yet anyway.” What is wrong with me? It must be the bourbon. I sound like an idiot, but I can’t stop myself. I swim away, opposite of him, allowing him some privacy to remove his clothing. When I turn back, I see the back side of him as he removes his boxers. I bite my lip to contain any sound that might escape me while my inner self jumps up and down, ecstatic. I swim opposite of him again as he turns to enter the water. I hope it wasn’t obvious I was watching him. I guess I’m not as respectful as he is.
“You can look now.” He imitates my voice from earlier and stands chest deep in the water about twenty feet away from me.
I swim towards him slowly and make the sounds of the Jaws attack jingle.
He laughs and splashes at me, before using both hands to slick back his hair. Every muscle in his body seems to be bulging as he extends his arms up and my breath hitches.
“Are you drunk?” He cocks his head slightly.
“I feel good.” I shrug. “You?”
“Nah.”
“So you can drink alcohol?”
“I can drink and eat anything you can, but there’s no nutritional value in it for me.”
“And you can still get drunk?”
“It takes a lot more than four sips, like you,” he teases.
The evening has taken over the sky completely and the stars are bright. I soak in all of the beauty. “Beautiful,” I sigh gazing up.
“Yes, it is.” Rhett’s voice is deep and direct.
My gaze meets his. I blush and dart my eyes away.
“You want to see something cool?” he asks excitement mixed with mischief in his eyes.
“Sure.” I swim towards him, making
sure to keep my chest below the water line so I don’t flash him.
“Okay, close your eyes and completely relax.”
I sit with my eyes closed, but nothing happens. Suddenly, the water fizzes against my skin. I’m immediately energized, completely lost in sensation; ice bubbles kissing my warm skin. The energy builds into one large mass and shoots down between my legs.
“Oh...” I moan and open my eyes, mortified. I squeeze my legs together, hoping it will ease the sensation.
Rhett’s palms rest flat on the surface of the water. The water ripples near his hands, and I realize he is transferring energy, using the water as a conductor. He meets my stare, his eyes deep and intense before he gently pulls his hands away, letting his energy end.
I’m stunned, but if the grin on my face grew any wider, my face may split in two. “That was amazing,” I say breathless.
“I thought you might think so.” He runs his hands through his hair again, muscles flexing across his chest and shoulders, and I’m convinced he’s doing it to torture me. “Just a little of my voodoo monster magic.”
I cringe, remembering my words from earlier. “Sorry about that.” I pout.
“No worries. I brought you here to show you that things aren’t always what they seem.”
.
fifteen
After our swim, we return to the house, and I decide to change before dinner. I change into a pair of pajama pants and a tank top, which feel like heaven to put on. I tie my wet hair up and as I open my door to leave my room, I notice Rhett’s black shirt he gave me to wear the night I arrived. I walk back to the chair where it lays and pick it up. I stare at it for a moment and decide to take it down to him, but something in me doesn’t want to. I shake my head. What is wrong with me? I walk toward my bedroom door, pressing it to my face, relishing Rhett’s scent.
“Everything okay?” Rhett clears his throat as he stands in my doorway in his fitted white cotton t-shirt and pajama pants, watching me try to inhale his shirt.
“Uh, yeah,” I stutter, embarrassed, jerking the shirt away from my face which has to be the darkest shade of red. “I need to give you your shirt back, but I thought maybe I should wash it first because it kind of smells…like me,” I laugh nervously, hoping he buys my fib.
