by Vicky Savage
“As you wish. Would you care for music?”
“Yeah. Love songs would be nice.”
In ten minutes or so, the car efficiently pulls to the side of the road. “Kistlethorn Park is thirty meters ahead on your right. Have a nice day, Jaden Beckett.”
I step out into the sidewalk and take a deep cleansing breath. By the time the Kistlethorn front gate comes into view, I feel fairly calm and collected. After all, it’s just lunch, right?
My breath catches in my throat when I see him propped against the green wrought iron fence. A patterned blanket lays folded over one arm, and he clutches a brown shopping bag in his hand. His careless hair falls half-in, half-outside his collar. Not at all like the Unicoi warrior I once knew, but remarkably appealing nonetheless.
He straightens up and smiles as I approach. “Thank you for coming,” he says.
“Thanks for bringing lunch. Can I carry something?”
“No. I got it. The pond’s this way.” He gestures to a path on our right.
The gnarled limbs of the inky-black Kistlethorn trees are visible on the main road. Their leaves look sharp as volcanic glass. Today I notice giant buds of white and red scattered among the mass of shiny dark foliage.
“I’ve never seen the trees in bloom,” I say.
“In another month or so the blossoms will be at their peak. It’s an awesome sight, but still reminds me of a goblin’s forest. The pastoral side of the park suits me better.”
After several yards, we veer off the path. Ryder lifts up some low-lying weeping willow branches for me and I duck underneath. We emerge into a gorgeous green meadow complete with a tranquil, lily pad covered pond and a family of swans. It’s like stepping from a Tim Burton nightmare into a Monet dream.
A woman and two small boys toss bits of bread to the swans. A few couples stroll along the path skirting the pond.
“Is this okay?” he asks.
“Perfect. It’s beautiful here.”
He spreads the blanket out in a grassy area near the pond. “I hoped you’d like it.” We each find a spot on the blanket, and he pulls the shopping bag next to him.
“So, do you want to talk first, or eat first, or eat while we talk?” he asks.
“Why don’t we eat while we talk? That way if it gets awkward we can just chew for a while.”
He laughs. “It won’t get awkward. I promise.”
Dipping into the shopping bag, he takes out two wrapped sandwiches, followed by two bottles of water and a white bakery bag. “I got Portobello mushroom with goat cheese on multigrain and roasted red pepper with mozzarella on focaccia. Which do you prefer?”
“They both sound great. You choose.”
“You want to share? Or shall we start with cookies?”
“Really? You brought cookies?”
His sky-blue eyes gleam. “Yeah. These are the best chocolate chip cookies on earth—well this earth, at least.” He removes two enormous cookies from the white bag and hands one to me. “I got two more just in case.”
I bite into the thick chewy disc. Warm chocolate chunks melt on my tongue. “Oooh, that’s so good.”
“I know, right?” He stretches out his long legs and props up on one elbow, gazing serenely at the pond as he chews.
He’s so unbelievably attractive to me. I especially love the way his body is put together. For a second I’m struck by how weird it is that I’ve seen him without clothes. Though it wasn’t really him, but my mind wanders … Uh oh. I feel my ears begin to burn hot. Not wishing to get caught having daydream fantasies about him, I take a stab at some polite conversation.
“So, what’s going on at Blackthorn Productions these days?”
He shuffles a hand through his hair in a poignantly familiar way. “At the moment, we’re working on two major projects, which is stretching our resources a bit thin. One is a short comedy feature written by two women laserball players about what it’s like competing in a male-dominated sport. The other’s a documentary I’m doing about the underground music scene here. Do you like music?”
“Yes, very much.”
“I’ll show you the rough cut when it’s done.”
“I’d like that.”
He fishes another cookie from the bag and breaks it in two offering half to me. I shake my head.
“Sandwich?” He asks.
“Not yet. I’ll take a water, though.”
He passes a bottle to me. “So what about you? I’d like to hear more about your explorations. Anything new on the horizon?”
“Yeah. In fact tomorrow, I’m heading up an exploration to a newly discovered earth where it’s reported that some humans have developed wing-like appendages and can actually fly.”
“Oh, so nothing out of the ordinary?” he deadpans, setting the sandwiches on top of their wrappers on the blanket between us.
I smile. “I’ve already told you it’s not nearly as glamorous as it sounds. Last year we visited an earth with two moons where a tsunami had devastated a large portion of the California coast. It was heartbreaking. I wish we could’ve helped more, but we’re kind of forbidden from doing that.” I pick up half of the mushroom and goat cheese sandwich.
“No interfering with destiny?”
“It’s more like allowing things to unfold naturally without introducing outside elements.”
He takes the other half of my sandwich. “And you have your own team now?”
“Only for this one mission. I think Narowyn wants to see what I’m capable of—or incapable of, as the case may be. Fortunately the rest of the team members are all experienced Transcenders, in case I screw up.”
“Somehow, I don’t see that happening.” He gazes into my eyes. “I hope you don’t mind, but I just have to ask, do you believe what they say about you? That you’re predestined to change the way the world views free will versus fate?”
“I wish that stuff hadn’t come out at the hearing. I really don’t feel like I’m here to do anything special. I’m just trying to be myself, and Arumel’s the only place I can truly do that.”
He chews slowly. “But you care about the whole controlled destiny versus volition debate, don’t you?”
“Honestly? I care because what IUGA did to me was wrong. But I never intended to be the lynchpin in a major inter-universal controversy. I guess it’s possible the debate will spur some big change in the world, but I didn’t pick this fight.”
He leans his head back and takes a deep drink of water. I like watching his throat as he swallows. My stare seems to amuse him but he continues to quiz me.
“Then you believe any attempts to control destiny should be outlawed?”
“Hey, what’s with all the questions? I thought you weren’t interested in politics.”
“I’m not asking from a political perspective. I’m interested in your views on the subject.”
“Okay. My view on destiny is pretty simple—no matter how hard we try, destiny will not be controlled. In fact, the more we try to control it, the more it laughs in our face and says my, my, but you’re just making this more interesting.”
He grins and sets his sandwich on its wrapper. “Well, we agree on that, at least. Which leads me to my next question. Do you believe what I suggested before is possible—that you and I meeting the way we have was our fate all along? That maybe everything that’s happened to us from the moment we were born was meant to lead us right here?”
I squint at him. “Have you been maneuvering me into some logical trap?”
He laughs lightly. “I’m not nearly that clever. I just want to know what you think.”
“I don’t know. It seems unlikely.”
He tilts his head. “But still possible?” Something honest and raw shines through his eyes.
My heart gets tangled in my vocal chords, and I drink some water before answering. “Yes, I suppose it’s possible.”
He nods slowly, and I sense he already believes it’s true. I don’t know what to believe anymore. I swore off this w
hole mirror thing, but what if he’s right? What if he’s the one?
“Can I tell you something?” he says.
“I guess so. Go ahead.”
“When I saw you walking down the sidewalk this morning, your hair streaming out behind you, the hem of your dress floating on the breeze, it felt like being kissed by the first brilliant rays of sunlight after a long winter’s night.”
I squint at him. “I thought you said this wasn’t going to get awkward.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I just wanted you to know.” He keeps his eyes fastened to mine. “I waited six months to approach you, and I know I’m taking a risk by saying this, but I don’t want to wait another six months. Scratch the friend stuff I said earlier. I’m too attracted to you to keep this on a friendship level. I knew it the second I saw that shopkeeper flirting with you. Will you consent to see me—on a more personal basis?”
My chest flutters, and I set my sandwich next to his.
“Ry. Hey, Ry!” a lanky young man in running clothes calls from the pathway.
Ryder looks up, smiles, and waves. “Hold that thought,” he says, getting to his feet. “It’s an old friend.” I watch as he walks to the path, admiring the way his jeans fit him, and wondering how I’m going to answer his question—things seem to be moving so quickly. Maybe it’s time to slow them down.
“Blake, how are you?” Ryder says as they shake hands.
“I’m doing okay. What about you?”
“Can’t complain. Fantasy laserball sucks this year, but business is good.”
“So I hear. Someone told me the big dogs have been sniffing around looking to buy your outfit.”
Ryder tosses his head back and laughs. “Vicious rumors. All the big dogs do is lift their legs and try to piss all over us. Besides why would I sell? I’m having the time of my life.”
“You got a great thing going, man. The truth is, I’ve been meaning to call you. I’m sort of looking around for another job. Things are getting kind of weird where I’m at. Do you think you might have something for me?”
“Sure, come by the office tomorrow,” Ryder says, slapping him on the shoulder. “We’re always looking for good editors.”
“Thanks, man,” Blake says with a big grin. “Hey, how’s the song writing going? Anything new on the horizon?”
“Nah. Haven’t had much time to write lately.”
“Well, we need to get together at my place and jam sometime. It’s been too long. You can bring your lady.” He glances at me for the first time, and his brows pull together. “Hey is that …?”
“No, it’s not.” Ryder cuts him off. I turn my face away, mortified to be mistaken for Ryder’s dead wife.
“But she looks just like …”
“It’s not, Blake.”
“… that Transcender lady, Jaden Beckett,” he finishes his sentence. I smile to myself for jumping to the wrong conclusion.
“Just come by tomorrow, man. I gotta go.”
FIFTY-SIX
Ryder turns away from the path and saunters back to the blanket.“How about a walk?” he says, holding out a hand for me.
“Sure. Can we leave our things here?”
“Yeah. No one will bother them.”
We stroll side by side along the path circling the pond. “Sorry about that back there,” he says. “You probably get recognized all the time.”
“Don’t worry about it. So your friends call you Ry?”
“Yep. Childhood nickname that stuck.”
The swans glide over to us hoping for food. “Oh, I didn’t bring anything for the swans.” I glance back at our lunch on the blanket.
“It’s all right. They get fed too much anyway. Before you know it, you got overweight swans, and then what do you do?”
“I don’t know. Send them to Duck Zumba?”
He barks a short laugh. “Or maybe stock up on swan Spanx.”
“Ha! Even better.” I like his off-beat sense of humor. “So what instrument do you play?”
“Guitar … and badly. It takes talent and time to practice, neither of which I possess. A couple of my songs have been picked up and recorded by other bands, though.”
“A songwriter too, huh? Would I have heard any of them?”
“I don’t know. Are you familiar with the Killers?”
My mouth drops open. “The Killers recorded one of your songs?”
He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Nah, I’m just trying to impress you. Someone who used to play backup for the Killers recorded one of my songs. It hasn’t gotten much air time yet.”
“That’s amazing, but you really don’t need to try to impress me.”
“Seriously? You’re like a rock star. A super-Transcender who took on big bad IUGA and kicked their ass. Obviously I’m going to try to sweep you off your feet.”
“That’s nice, but I hope you know that’s not really me.”
He glances at me sideways and reaches for my hand. My pulse quickens at his touch. “I’d like to know more,” he says.
When the pavement ends, Ryder leads me to a grove of shady trees with a small bench beneath. He turns to me and gently takes my face in his hands. My knees feel unsure of themselves.
“You were about to tell me if you’ll consent to see me on more than a casual basis,” he says brushing the pad of one thumb along my lower lip. My heart pounds wildly, and a pleasurable tingle runs down my spine. I look up into his eyes, certain he’s about to kiss me. Instead, he just grins.
“What?” I say.
“You have chocolate on your mouth.”
“Oh, nice. That must be attractive.” I run my tongue along my lip.
“It is to me. I love the taste of chocolate.”
Either this guy’s a huge tease or he’s completely unaware of the effect he has on me. Doesn’t matter, because I’m not shy about taking what I want, and I’ve made up my mind, I want him.
I wrap my hand around his neck and bring his mouth down to meet mine. His lips are warm and salty-sweet. He’s tentative or maybe startled at first, but then he circles my waist with his arms and pulls me close, his tongue flickering across my lips. My mouth parts and he deepens the kiss, pressing his body into mine. I think my heart may explode inside my chest, and I’m sure my brain isn’t receiving any oxygen. So much for going slow.
I move away slightly, allowing him an escape in case I’m being too forward, but his mouth follows mine, nipping my lower lip, coaxing, renewing the kiss. When we finally pull apart, he beams.
“Uh, wow. That was … pleasantly unexpected.”
“Does it answer your question?”
“I’d say it does, unless I was just the recipient of the most amazing goodbye kiss in the history of mankind.”
I smile and shake my head. “It wasn’t goodbye.”
“God, I hope not.” He pushes a wayward lock of hair off his forehead. “Because I’d sure like to do that again sometime.”
He pulls me over to the bench and we sit together, our knees touching. Taking both my hands in his, he looks deeply into my eyes. “There is one thing, though … I need to know if you consider me only a faint reflection of the husband you lost.”
“I don’t. Not at all.” I study his face. “But what about you? Do you think of me as an echo of your late wife?”
He raises his eyes skyward for a moment and sighs. “She was an indescribably fine person, as I suspect you are,” he says quietly. “But she was just a girl when she passed—a bit timid and almost achingly vulnerable. You are none of those things. It’s your spirit that draws me to you.”
“That’s good to hear.” I smile and raise my hand to his cheek. “I don’t know what you and I were or will be to each other, but I’m ready to see where this will take us.”
“You can’t imagine how happy that makes me,” he says, covering my hand with his own.
“Unfortunately, it’s going to have to wait,” I say. “I leave tomorrow on exploration, and I’m not sure when I�
�ll be back.”
He lowers his head, deflated. “Man, my timing really sucks. You’re sure you have to leave tomorrow?”
“’Fraid so, but I’ll call as soon as I’m back. I promise.”
He laces his fingers through mine. “Will you call me while you’re away?”
“If it’s possible, but I’m not sure what to expect on the earth we’re visiting.”
