13. Town
TOWN
Acar rumbling down the drive is the first thing I hear after a long silence. I must have drifted off under the comfort of the old willow. Ry’s vehicle comes into focus down the driveway. He probably can’t see me from here, leaving me no choice but to rise and head in his direction.
A knot forms in my stomach, of nerves and worry, but as I get farther from the willow and closer to the car, it dissipates.
My connection to the trees has never felt more prominent than it does here.
Only here though, I find they meld together, and I can’t tell which feelings actually belong to me—and which do not.
It is a disconcerting feeling, and perhaps my uncle felt something similar.
Ry is out of the car now. The closer I get, the worry that wrapped itself around my spine turns into increasing thrill. I greet him with a mischievous smile as he puts one arm on the top of the door.
One should not look the way he does. His muscles tense along his arms as he looks me over, a glint of a sparkle in his eye that I don’t fail to notice. If he is anything like me, yesterday’s almost events are replaying in his head.
“Hi…I was just out walking the property. I can see why my uncle never left. These trees…they hold a sort of…magic.” I pause after I say these words because a small truth stirs in my heart.
Magic is definitely what I feel here. “The storm did a bit of damage, though. Nothing too serious.” Ry tenses at the last statement.
“Which trees were damaged?” He asks in an anxious, rushed tone.
“A large oak sadly. It took part of a cherry limb with it,” I answer, wondering why he seems so worked up. A flash of irritation rolling through his eyes, which he closes briefly, saying his next words as calmly as he can.
“I will be happy to check them out later.” He pauses, seeming to gain more composure before he adds, “Would you like to get lunch in town? I know a place.”
I nod, looking forward to seeing a bit of the town.
Lollie and Ash will be here before I know it, and Lollie will want me to scope out any dives.
She is always the life of the party. As for me, I hope to find some antique shops.
The history is this area is vast in richness, and I want to know all there is to be known.
But, to be honest, at this moment I am more intrigued with the tall brooding man that I’m about to get in the car with. We drive down the dirt road in silence, looking over at him periodically. Knowing what I feel seems to hum around the small space of this car, so he must feel it, too.
From this view, I get a good look at his profile.
His eyebrows are thick and furrowed as if in deep thought.
His lashes are longer than mine, with a straight nose.
And oh, his lips. His bottom one full and I wonder what it might feel like on mine.
His attention turns toward me as my eyes make their way up to his.
Once I see I’ve been caught, I glance away.
“Don’t turn your head. I find I enjoy your eyes on me.
” He says with a voice dripping with cocky confidence.
I am so taken aback by his comment that I can only stare at him.
Lost in the sea of his beauty and the storm brewing in his eyes that mimics the one forming in my chest, growing in waves, moving lower and lower within me.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. I just got caught in thought,” I stutter. A poor excuse, I know.
“Don’t ever apologize for admiring. I do the same to you,” he replies, and I’m yet again intrigued with his level of confidence.
A hint of a smirk graces those plump, kissable lips. Shit. My thoughts may betray me, but at least I can hold them together on my tongue. A tongue that wonders how his would taste against mine. And with that thought, I know I am supremely fucked. I blush all the way into town.
We eventually make it to our destination, and I focus on looking out the window hoping to get my mind clear of all current thoughts about the man next to me. The beauty of these historic houses does the trick.
Gracing the streets are tall, ethereal buildings.
Two-story townhouses with pillars built in front that hold together two levels of porches.
Some houses have a garden conjoined to them, separated by cast-iron railings; some are well kept, and others seem to be a mass of rose brambles.
Brick stones make up the road, making the drive seem from a simpler era.
I think one I would have liked very much.
We drift down the street and park next to one house that has a sign hanging out front. It reads, The Spanish Moss in bold dark pink letters against a white background. The sign looks fairly new, but the building itself looks as if it's seen centuries pass through its brick foundation.
“Well, here we are. This place has been around for years. Changed names and owners a handful of times,” he says.
He turns off the ignition. “As of right now, it’s back to its original owner’s great-great-grandson.
Either way, I have a feeling you’ll like the food. ” Ry seems so sure of his last comment.
“And how do you know what I’ll like?” I retort, giving him a sideways glance with a bit of a jest.
He just directs an overly smug grin my way, his silence speaking volumes.
Half an hour later, I’m shoving the best veggie omelet greedily in my mouth.
Not realizing I was so badly in need of a good homemade meal.
And wow, it is good. Ry sits across from me, sipping his coffee with eyes that read of his satisfaction of being right.
We have a pleasant talk about finances while we eat. One which mainly involves Ry telling me things, while I scarf down all the food placed in front of me. He presents the idea of my homesteading the estate so that taxes are more manageable.
“I think the details of your shop will come in time. Right now, you should focus on the present—on the house,” Ry explains. I can’t help but agree. This place has set its voodoo on me. I’m all in.
“So, you were right. This food is amazing,” I finally cave, changing the subject and I admit defeat, putting the napkin on the empty plate before me.
“Ah, yes, I usually am, Jade,” he says, his sureness shining through, “and it helps to know the owners. Would you like to meet them…Oh, well, never-mind, here they come.”
Ry stands, and I can’t help but notice how truly tall he is. He towers over the couple arriving to welcome us at our table. I quickly stand as well.
The two that greet me have beautiful moon-shaped eyes that speak of all the kindness they keep within. Here I was expecting a young couple, but these two are well into their sixties, and look at us as if we are the rare hidden gems in the room.
“Jade, let me introduce you to Walt and Cattie. These two are very dear old friends,” Ry voices. I take their hands in greeting and am flooded with warmth and sincerity.
“Jade, it is so nice to see you. I imagine you are the one who has taken residence over The Rooted Realm Estate?” Cattie says.
I look to Ry, surprise clearly on my face that they would know anything about me, but his face is indifferent.
Cattie continues,“Hopefully, it is everything you’ve dreamt it would be.
We used to visit that place long ago. We’ve always wondered if it fell apart over the years. Do tell, how has it held up?”
“Actually, for how old and massive it is, I would say it has held up really well. It seems taken care of, especially the property. And yes, I find I’m growing quite fond of it.
” I say, glancing over at Ry. But I have more questions on my mind to ask, so I continue, “You must have known my uncle if you say you’ve been there before? ”
“Oh yes, we knew him well when he was younger. He would hold the most extravagant parties. Your uncle made sure we always had a good time, that is for sure.” Cattie giggles as if lost in the wonderful memories of those parties.
Walt doesn’t say much, but his stare does. A host to curiosity and something else I can’t quite put my finger on.
“I think that is enough talk about Rowan’s parties,” Ry says, an edge cutting through in his tone. Why he doesn’t want to talk about my uncle, I don’t know, but the sweet restaurant owners change the subject quickly.
There isn’t much talk after, but what little there is comes easy until we say our goodbyes.
I promise to visit again. How can I not?
I leave feeling lighter even though I ate my weight in food, and I am so pleased to have some form of knowledge of my uncle and the magic that the estate used to hold.
I’m deep in thought about the information I just learned when I feel a hand on the small of my back and a slight shock. It is Ry’s, and the shock sends a current up my spine that produces a small gasp from my lips.
Ry acts as if nothing happened, of course. He looks me in the eye as we walk out the doors and points to a park across the way. It seems he has reverted to cold Ry since our conversation with The Spanish Moss owners.
“In a time before you and me, this park was the start of this town.” His voice serious, but thawing.
“There’s a town myth that says it holds the memories of all that has happened here because of the river that runs through it.
” He still holds out his arm, making sure I see where it is directed before he continues.
“It’s the same river that connects all the way back to your very own Rooted Realm Estate,” he says, his impromptu history lesson warming him some.
I look at the park, seeing a mass of old, gigantic oaks and hickories full of wispy Spanish moss. A beautiful stone bridge connects one land to the next, with a river down the middle. It is an eerily beautiful sight, and I take it in wholly, feeling I have been here before.
I walk to the bridge in hopes of going over it. The stones seem worn, but sturdy. I can only imagine what stories they hold in the quiet of their time here.