Chapter Forty-Four
One Year Later
Dear Gertie,
USA Today Bestseller!!! We are all cheering you on at the agency.
Safe flying tonight. Also have you finished the draft of your next book yet? No pressure, obviously, but I can’t wait to read it. A romance novel in which a fictional character comes to the real world? Now where on earth did you possibly get an idea like that?!
All best,
Bridget
How is it all going? Are the readers lovely? Are you feeling proud and fulfilled? I hope so because you fucking should. Miss you! Hope the horse-tour goes well. Couldn’t be me! Love Marisol xx
P.S. I got the chamomile for Josie’s birthday tomorrow. I’ll lay them on her headstone for you and let her know you’ll be visiting as soon as you return
If you come across that wicked man River Oakley while you’re in Texas you tell him I want my dog back. In fact, you grab that dog and you bring him back on the plane. I will pay for his fare.
Mrs Casablancas
‘Now we’ll take one final question from the audience before Gertie has to leave,’ the bookshop owner says to the surprisingly large crowd that’s gathered to see me in Texas, every one of them holding copies of the final Bedlam Creek novel.
A friendly-looking round-faced girl raises her hand.
‘Go ahead,’ the bookseller nods at her.
‘Hi Gertie! I thought this was the most romantic book in the whole series. I loved it. And I wanted to know – what do you think true romance is?’
I bite down on the corner of my lip. ‘You know, I – a lot like Ethan – used to think that romance was in the grand gestures. The flowers, the surprise trips, the public declarations and scattered rose petals. The stuff of TV shows and movies and – yes – romance novels. But while writing this book I came to the conclusion that true romance, in my experience, is quieter than that. It’s having someone to navigate your life with and knowing that they’re the absolute only person you want to do that with.
It’s rooting for each other, holding each other up in ways that are practical and emotional.
It’s everyday thoughtfulness. Warming up your cold feet with their feet.
Learning how to make a cup of tea just the way you like it.
Lending you courage when you don’t know how to be brave, or donkey-riding you around the neighbourhood because you broke your ankle and was sick of being indoors.
It’s being on each other’s team, no matter what.
Being each other’s number one fan. That, to me, is true romance.
Oh, and, of course, a mind-blowing sexual connection definitely helps. ’
‘Hell, yeah!’ the girl cheers, sitting back down with a laugh. ‘Thanks!’
‘Fantastic,’ the bookshop owner says. ‘Now we will have a signing line, so if y’all could queue over in the—’
‘Wait!’ Another reader jumps up. ‘I’m sorry, I just thought of a question.’
‘I’m afraid the question portion is—’
‘It’s fine!’ I say. ‘We can do one more! What did you want to ask?’
‘I was wondering – in the book, Cassidy’s brother River Oakley disappears and we never get to find out what happened to him.
There were lots of rumours in Bedlam about why he left so suddenly: that he was on the run from a cartel, that he went into witness protection, that he joined a travelling circus.
Which one do you believe? What do you think happened to River Oakley? ’
I swallow down the lump in my throat. What do I think happened to River Oakley?
I smile to myself. ‘You know … I think big bad River Oakley met a girl. I think he met a girl, learned what it felt like to fall in love and discovered the courage to break away from the binds of his family legacy. I think – I hope – that wherever he is, River Oakley managed to find his very own happily ever after.’
*
Once the book signing is done, I dash back to the hotel for a shower, and change into jeans and a T-shirt before heading out to the Hidden Texas on Horseback tour I booked myself onto as soon as I knew it existed.
As the tour group and I gently trot down a dusty rural pathway, admiring the huge trees on either side of us, I can’t help but think, as I constantly do these days, about the novel I’m currently writing.
Cassidy never came back to me once I finished the series, and neither did anyone else from Bedlam Creek.
I had taken their story as far as I was meant to. We didn’t need each other any more.
Writing this new novel has been a totally different experience. I’m coming up with everything from my own experiences, my own feelings and thoughts. These days I live enough life to write a million books. These days I channel myself.
‘Take your final pictures and put those phones away,’ comes the no-nonsense voice of our tour guide, Estella. ‘It’s time to move on to the next stop! Giddy up, now!’
I wrap the reins of my horse, an Appaloosa called Luna, tightly around my hands.
As we canter through a valley surrounded by lush majestic scenery, I adjust River’s – much too large – Stetson on my head, securing the string Mrs Casablancas sewed in it so it wouldn’t fall off. I glance up at the incredible expanse of pink-purple before me and shake my head in disbelief.
What a year.
When River disappeared, I didn’t spiral like I did when Henry left.
I cried, of course. I cried a lot. There may have been a little bit of bathroom wailing.
And yes, I may still be wearing an assortment of his T-shirts to bed every single night.
But even while I was devastated, I knew in my gut that I would come out the other side.
That I was stronger than I’d ever been. Turns out that River was right and I’m not just the nerdy, indoorsy, self-conscious, shadow-seeker I thought I was.
Yes, at my core those are my essential traits.
But it turns out that I’m also, you know, kind of a badass.
In the last twelve months I’ve put myself in the centre of my own life.
I’ve been to parties and restaurants on my own.
I’ve learned to horse-ride in Hyde Park with Sharon, who gave me a bunch of free lessons because she still thinks I might sue her for the accident that was not her fault.
I’ve practised standing up for myself and setting boundaries – something I think I’ll always find uncomfortable, but something I’ve discovered to be worth its weight in gold in terms of the respect I have for myself these days.
A few weeks after River left, Sir Otto got in touch to tell me that River had recommended he read my books.
He did, and he adored them, had the biggest crush on Ethan and insisted that I do a series of events at Derberville & Falcon bookshops around the country.
And while I was afraid to put myself in the spotlight, I did it.
At one of the events, Henry turned up. His new book is out in a few weeks and is set to be a huge hit.
I’m pleased for him. But when he asked me if I’d like to go and get dinner together, it was the easiest no I’d ever said.
And yes, I’ve had partners since River left.
Nothing serious, though. Flings, and one-night stands and easy, relaxed fun.
Single life has been a learning curve for someone so dedicated to the concept of true everlasting love.
And while I don’t think I’ll ever stop wanting to be part of a duo, it’s the best, most freeing feeling to realise that I don’t need that in order to be happy and fulfilled.
‘And now on the right, you’ll see a path down towards Blue Egg Meadow – please avoid that and take the next right, follow the sign to Hazel Woods, where we will have another photo opportunity with some – you guessed it – armadillos!’
I look up sharply. Blue Egg Meadow? That’s the place that River always talked about.
The spot he was in when he crossed over into this universe?
Where he said his favourite old tree was.
But how does Estella know about Blue Egg Meadow?
Blue Egg Meadow was in Bedlam … And Bedlam is not part of this universe.
I canter forward so that my horse reaches Estella’s. ‘Did you say Blue Egg Meadow?’ I ask her.
‘Yeah, there’s nothing much down there,’ she waves her hand vaguely. ‘Just a big cedar tree. It’s a striking tree but not a stand-out photo op. Not like the armadillos.’
Out of the corner of my eye I spot a small grubby wooden sign with an arrow pointing to Blue Egg Meadow.
What?
‘Oh my God! We need to go down there!’ I breath as we pass it. ‘I need to see that tree. Can we go that way, please?’
It can’t actually be the tree River talked about. It’s not possible. But what if …?
Estella laughs. ‘Hun, it ain’t part of the tour. You can’t go down there.’
I guide Luna around and start heading back towards the sign.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Estella shouts after me. The rest of the tour group glare at my disobedience, and while that might have bothered me a year ago, these days I care a little less what other people think.
‘I’ll meet you back at the stables,’ I explain. ‘I have to go check out a tree.’
‘You can’t just go! It’s … it’s horsenapping!’
‘So arrest me!’ I shout back. ‘’Cos I’m going!’
I dig my heels in Luna’s sides and all at once we’re galloping down the pathway in the direction of Blue Egg Meadow.
We speed past fluttering trees lined up by a pretty riverbank, the sun lighting the trail as if it’s guiding us.
The conduit widens more and more until it fully opens up into the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen in my life.
A wildflower meadow, covered in multicoloured flowers resembling thick daubs of oil paint on a grass-green canvas.
Butterflies and bees flit from plant to plant, birds chirrup their favourite melodies. It’s magical.
There, to the left of the meadow, is a tree.
I gasp. It’s magnificent, huge, unfathomably old.
I wouldn’t know the difference between a cedar and any other kind of tree, but as Luna and I trot closer to it I can see that it’s covered in etchings.
‘Oh!’ I whisper, my bottom lip wobbling.
I know immediately that this, this is River’s tree.
The one he comes to when he needs some peace and quiet away from the ranch, the place he was dozing the night that I did the manifestation ceremony.
Wait – didn’t one of the books River read say that trees, along with stones and caves and waterfalls, were often portals to other dimensions?
What does this mean? Is it some sort of hint from the universe? And if it is, what the hell am I supposed to do with it?
I dismount from Luna and race over to the tree to inspect the etchings.
Sue loves Ezra
K&E for ever
Exactly like River described.
And then, right near the bottom, just above where the tree meets the earth …
I inhale sharply.
River loves Gertie
Loves.
He loves me.
There it is. Incontrovertible evidence. A cowboy in love.
I reach out to run a hand over the engravings, but snatch it back at the last minute.
In the Outlander books, Claire used the stones as a portal to travel through time by touching them with her hands.
If I touch the tree I might end up in Bedlam, and as much as I’m desperate to see River, leaving my entire life behind without warning is not what I want.
My heart starts beating out of my chest as I look behind me, half-expecting Estella to show up and drag me and Luna away.
I shrug off my backpack, rustling inside it until I find the Moleskine I’ve been making notes in for my next novel.
I grab my pen and tear out a page, my breath coming in pants while Luna watches on patiently.
I might not have much time. Estella seemed like the kind of person who might actually call the police on me.
I start to scribble.
River,
I don’t have much time. And if you don’t get this then none of it matters anyway. But … what if you do? I think I’m at your tree. The one you told me about. And if I am, and if by some miracle you get this, then I want to tell you.
I miss you. So much. I’m happy and well and so much better than I was when we first met, but I miss you. My God, I miss you every day.
Being alone has been wonderful. And while I don’t need to be part of a duo to feel whole, I realise that I very much want to be. Specifically, with you.
God knows you might have another girlfriend now. Or even be married, since I turned you into a sentimental old coffee boiler. But if you’re not? And if you want to? And if you can?
Come back.
I pull out my phone and tap onto the calendar, checking the date of the next full moon. Tomorrow? I gasp. 20 August. Josie’s birthday. Exactly a year since River turned up in my apartment with nothing but a bag of jeans and his Daddy’s harmonica.
That is not a hint from the universe. Surely that’s a big fuck-off billboard surrounded by flashing lights.
I press my pen back to the paper.
There’s a full moon tomorrow night. 20 August. I’m going to – and I can’t believe I’m saying this – but I’m going to do another manifestation ceremony in the hope that maybe the universe will give us another go.
So if you want this, be at the tree. And if you don’t, then, well, I understand.
And I will love you anyway, just from afar, with all of my heart.
Yours,
Gertie
And then, taking off River’s hat, I prop it against the tree, tucking the note safely beneath it, being careful not to let my skin touch the trunk, just in case. I stand back and stare at the tree for a little longer, pulling my phone out to snap a picture of the etching for evidence.
I know that even if by some miracle River somehow sees the letter propped against his tree, that it’s entirely likely he’s moved on from me. I have no doubt he’ll have been inundated with offers. But still.
Stranger things have happened. Literally.
With one last look back at the Stetson laid against the cedar tree, rhinestones sparkling in the late-afternoon sun, I remount Luna and head back off to join the tour group before Estella gets me arrested for horsenapping.