9. Claire
9
CLAIRE
T ime runs away from me.
I finish school with excellent grades. I leave Belleflower to attend college about two hours outside of town. It’s far enough away to give me a taste of life outside Belleflower, but close enough that I’m still dragged back home every summer.
I forget about the boy who sat behind me in church. I forget about the way he braided my hair. I forget about ropers and belt buckles and everything to do with Riley Ransom.
When I come back to Belleflower, I’m nudging against nineteen, and for reasons beyond my understanding, it seems to be some fantastic ordeal, because everyone feels it necessary to comment about it.
Even Arris Dagney.
“Well, look at you,” he says, announcing my presence with flourish when I enter Daddy’s study. Daddy remains stone-faced behind his desk, but Arris gets out of the big, leather chair by the window to pull me into a hug. I inhale the familiar scents of tobacco and wet ink. When he pulls back, he cups my face in one of his big, leathery paws. “She’s growing up well, isn’t she?” Dagney comments, stroking back a fallen bunch of blonde hair. “Pretty enough to be the next Belleflower Queen.”
I’m grown, but not that grown.
The worlds Belleflower Queen still incite a childlike excitement in me, making my body buzz from head to toe, the kind of excitement that makes a person want to bounce up and down on the tips of their toes.
But I’ve been trained better, so I simply acknowledge the compliment with a compulsory, “You’re too kind.”
Daddy frowns. My returned presence has been a great annoyance for him. “Is there something you need?”
I lace my fingers together, politely binding my hands in front of me. “I would like to take Calypso for a ride.”
“Where?”
“Mary-Kate and I are taking a ride on the Coldwater Trail.” A half-truth, but enough of the truth.
He flicks his wrist. “Then get going.”
“Be good,” Arris says, and gives me a familial wink.
Calypso gives me a warm welcome home, huffing and nudging me with her snout. I kiss the softest place on a horse—that small space between the nostrils.
“I missed you too,” I tell her, and she flicks her tail.
I fasten her saddle and climb up, leading her out of the stables. There’s a shortcut between my house and the Dagney estate—a trail through the woods that’s nearly overgrown, easy enough to miss if you don’t know what you’re looking for. But Calypso knows the path by heart and her hooves make a pleasant, muffled clip on the dirt below.
Mary-Kate is waiting for me on her porch. We change out of our stuffy, buttoned up polos and into small crop-tops and pleated skirts.
It’s summer in Belleflower. The flowers are blooming, so why can’t I?
We collect Elsbeth, Violet, and Bonnie, who join us on their horses. We take off and the five of us sound powerful—a stampede, pounding the ground.
Our spot on the river is smaller than I remember it. The river seems like a trickle compared to the flowing water I’d pictured in my head. And the rock Mary-Kate and I used to lay on now doesn’t seem big enough for the both of us.
The girls disrobe, shimmying out of their outer layers. Our bras and panties double as bathing suits, and we’ll dry out on the flat stones before we go home.
Bonnie is the first to step in, and she yelps about the temperature of the water. Elsbeth comes in after her, splashing her, and they laugh.
I start to take off my shirt to follow them in, but my head gets yanked backwards. There’s a tug on my hair, as though it’s caught on something.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
I twist to challenge my assailant, but?—
I recognize him immediately.
I don’t know how. He looks nothing like the short, scrawny boy who used to sit behind me at church.
Riley has grown up.
He’s taller than me now. He’s filled out pleasantly, his chest and waist thickened with muscle. His skin has darkened, and he has all the signs of a man who spends too much time outside, and his body has taken the beating for it.
His hair is the same, though. That untamed, rusty mess that hangs over his ears.
My lips press together. “Let go.”
He just grins, gripping my ponytail in his fist. “No.”
“I’ll scream.”
“Is that a promise?”
I take in a deep breath, filling my lungs. He releases me, and my hair sways back against my shoulders.
“Riley,” I say.
“Claire,” he retorts. He tilts his head. “I go by Ransom these days.”
Ransom . The last of his kind. I guess it’s sweet, in a way.
I pull in my lips and correct myself. “ Ransom . You’re still pulling pigtails, I see.”
A grin plays his lips. “And you’re still playing in the kiddie pool, I see.”
I narrow my eyes. “What do you mean?”
He shrugs and hooks his thumbs in his pockets. “I can show you a real swimming hole. When you’re ready to graduate.”
“Claire!” Mary-Kate shouts from the river. “Leave the Sooter alone!”
I can feel Loren, our chaperone, glaring at us from down the way.
But Ransom’s brown eyes meet mine.
Challenging me.
I’ve been a lot of things in my life, but I’ve never been capable of walking away from a challenge. I cross my arms over my chest.
“Show me.”
Ransom leads us down the river for nearly a mile. Mary-Kate complains the whole way.
Since he’s the only one on foot, I let him hop on Calypso. He fits his body onto the saddle behind me and winds his arms around my middle to take the reins. Calypso, who hates everyone except me, is strangely obedient to his lead. We sway with the motion of the horse and his body feels hard and strong at my back.
The further we go, the rougher the river gets, shushing loudly against the pointed rocks. Finally, we come to a stop at the Old Road Bridge.
It was bright red, once upon a time. A way for the train to get from one side of the river to the other. Now it’s rusted out, abandoned to the grip of ivy. Cars still cross it, but it’s the kind of bridge you hold your breath when you’re going over.
Ransom slows Calypso to a halt. He dismounts and his hand finds the small of my back.
“I’ve got it,” I tell him. Not like I haven’t dismounted by myself a thousand times before.
“I know you do,” he says. He uses his grip on me to help me down anyway. When I step off, our bodies brush again, and the closeness of him sends a strange chill up my arms.
Ransom, Mary-Kate, Loren, Elsbeth and I walk down the bridge. The old wood seems soft under my feet. We get midway down the bridge and Ransom leans over the railing, looking down, so the three of us follow suit.
The river opens up into a small lake under the bridge. The water is darker here, deeper, but I’m not sure how deep.
Loren spits off the side. His white glob floats lazily in the river.
Ransom unbuttons his plaid shirt. His chest has definition these days. And a light shadow of hair. He hangs his shirt over the railing, then shucks off his boots and his jeans.
“Guess I’m going first,” he says. In only his black boxers now, he swings his legs over the side of the railing. Now, he’s teetering on the edge of it.
“Have you done this before?” I ask.
“Uh-huh,” he answers. His arms are locked along the railing, the muscles in his biceps tense to keep him there.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Mary-Kate says. “You’ll break your head open on the rocks!”
“Let him,” Loren sneers. “Belleflower isn’t going to miss one less Sooter.”
Ransom is staring at the water with a strange intensity. As though there’s a Loch Ness monster in there that might jump out at any moment and swallow him whole.
And then it hits me.
Wait.
Isn’t this the bridge where his parents?—?
Those hazel eyes meet mine. They look so deep in the midday light.
“What do you say?” he asks. “Should I jump?”
He’s waiting for me. For permission from me .
Isn’t there a saying about this?
If your dumb friends jumped off a bridge, would you?—?
Fuck it.
I peel my shirt over my head and shimmy out of my pants. I’m in nothing but my bra and underwear now as I climb over the railing. Ransom takes my arm and his grip is rough and tight as I settle in on the other side. My arms tremble with effort as I cling to the railing.
“Claire!” Elsbeth’s voice pitches in real fear. “Don’t you dare!”
My heart is fluttering in my chest. There’s barely anything left of the wooden slats on this side of the bridge, and my bare toes curl over the edge.
On this side, I can feel the chill from the open lake rising up to meet me.
But I’m not looking at the water below.
I’m watching Ransom.
And he’s watching me with the same, curious gaze.
“Last one down is a lame horse,” I tell him.
I release my grip and let myself fall.