13. Town #2
It is within seconds of taking one step on the bridge that I see a young woman with hair the color of mine, and a man I can’t make out.
Words are being hurled between them in argument.
She is similar to the woman I saw on that stormy night, but different, too.
She is crying and pushing him back, while he pulls at his hair in frustration.
In a flurry of motion, she stands unsteadily on the bridge, pulling out a knife.
She moves the blade to each of her wrists, pushing down with force.
Blood oozes out from the deep slicing of her veins.
And with a splash, she jumps in. Just like that.
The beautiful flowing river turning the deepest shade of red.
I suck in a deep breath and move my foot back off the bridge. The two are gone, as if it were all in my mind, because they were. Another vision I must tuck away, holding too much weight within me.
I turn and stare at the two hands that grasp tight to my shoulders. They are Ry’s, and he looks furious, heartbroken even.
“Are you alright?” He asks visibly shaken, as if he could know what I just saw.
“I don’t know…I mean, yes, sorry. I was just in my mind for a minute,” I stammer. I can tell he doesn’t believe me.
“Here, let’s get you back home.” Caring Ry makes a debut. He then adds, as if trying to ease the tension, “I’d like to check out those trees you said were damaged in the storm.”
We both move along as if nothing transpired at all.
In fact, maybe he couldn’t tell anything was going through my mind in that moment on the bridge.
The beauty of my visions being that I now know how to act mostly normal after I come back to the present.
I push them back and do my best to retain my repose, hoping there will be no other surprise mind warps.
On the way back to the car, we pass a row of bars that scream Lollie’s name.
Ry says they are all usually pretty busy at night with locals but also the occasional tourists.
The way he says it is as if I should be warned or turned off even.
In truth, I’m a bit intrigued to see the nightlife of this small Louisiana town.
Looking at the city behind us, we drive away and head back to the estate. For the first time, I think back to Ry’s comment about getting back home, and I think yes, this could quite actually be my home. Although I could do without all the haunting visions that seem to plague me here.
It takes about a twenty-five minute drive from town back to the estate, and the sun is making its way down to the other side of the horizon. Night is close, but neither of us is ready for our time together to come to a close.
Ry and I get out of the car. My promise of showing him the cracked oak tree I refuse to break. Our way of continuing to grace one another with curious looks that speak more words than our actual words do tonight.
As we walk, another buzz of energy floats among us. I swear he must feel it, too. He keeps stealing glances at me in my white mid-length sundress. I can feel his eyes on my face, then my neck. I feel them move lower to my chest, and I blush even though I am not looking at him.
His eyes make their mark known across my skin. Fire heats every spot they land on. I finally look at him, and my skin scorches to a crisp. And when I think he will look the other way, his presence darkens.
“As you can tell, I like my eyes on you, too.” He smirks down at me.
My body instantly heats with excitement at those words. Not sure I heard him correctly, I pick up my pace and walk ahead. He quickens as well. A cat-and-mouse game with his eyes, hunting me down with their ferocity.
When we finally make it to the oak, I look up at him. Ry’s eyes burn, but not in the way I am hoping. Anger floods out. His mood has changed again. Suddenly, he is quite different from the walk here.
“Is everything good?” I ask him, my eyebrows drawn in.
“Yes, it’s just as I thought, is all,” he growls, looking to the split oak tree. “I’ll get these branches taken care of tomorrow.”
He seems so disgruntled about the broken limbs that a short laugh leaves my mouth. The man who wears a thousand faces in a day. One minute he acts as if he has a vendetta against the world, and the next? The next minute he acts as if he wants to eat me alive.
My last comment seeming to have broken him from a spell. The surrounding atmosphere relaxes, and he closes the space between us.
“Please be careful around here. These trees are more dangerous than they look,” he says, serious as hell, and I can’t help but giggle again at that comment.
“And stop with the giggles, please. They’re distracting.
Everything about you is distracting.” His eyes burn again, but it is with something else. Desire? I push his last comment aside.
“How can trees be dangerous? I’ve never been hurt by a tree, Ry.” He clenches his jaw like he wants to say something, but looks past me. It is then that I feel the pull of the hickory.