Chapter 25
Okay, so not a path to nowhere. The forest was maybe half a mile deep, leading to a narrow footbridge that crossed sparkling bayou water to a raised island.
An island I knew. The moment I was on the other side of the bridge, magic engulfed me. It wasn’t tangible, or even visible, it was just the sensation of other. And it was as familiar as putting on my favorite pajamas.
“I remember you, Bridge Island. I remember every inch of you.”
An island cannot vibrate with joy, like a small dog that pees when you come home at the end of a long day. But it may as well have, because saying those words out loud brought every single memory of this island back to me.
To my right was a lovely cottage-style house.
It was the house where the goddess Iris lived.
The woman I’d seen at Gino’s Pizzeria when I had dinner with Lauren.
We’d been friendly in high school. She had embraced her magic before she was a teenager, shedding her old self to become who she was meant.
I could picture her before as clearly as her after.
Continuing forward, I reached the center of this small but bustling island where Bridge House stood proud.
It clearly had a glow-up in the past thirty years.
I’d always thought it majestic, but the way the house stood court now put its past power to shame.
Just like Iris, someone had figured out how to help the house become its greatest form.
I had to guess it was the woman with the long, chestnut brown hair rocking on its patio. She had an air about her, as if she and the house were one. In a moment of absolute longing, I imagined how that must feel. I wanted that with the Magnolia.
Crowded next to her on the swing was the mischievous older woman I’d seen talking to the Mighty Oak. I returned their friendly wave, their names dancing in the swarm of new memories before coming forward. Ruth was the older woman, former proprietor of Bridge House. Misty was the new owner.
Misty was a mermaid. She and Dimitri, the troll of North Bridge, protected the island. How did I know that?
“The island is welcoming you home, Simone.” Iris launched down the stairs and pulled me into a warm embrace.
Hair darker than night weaved coils around a perfectly made-up face.
Thick, reddened lips planted a kiss on my cheek.
Rainbows trailed the ground around her. “I’m so thrilled you’re back.
One more piece to the Treater’s Way puzzle falling into place. ”
She held me at arm’s length, her fierce golden eyes meeting mine.
“Complete your tour of the island, hon. Then come back to Bridge House and we’ll all have dinner and get reacquainted, yeah?”
I couldn’t speak. I only nodded, the hint of a smile teasing my lips. Only moments earlier, my body and soul were aching and world-weary. Now, a vibrant new energy infused me. With a last squeeze of her hand, I continued my journey.
Bridge Island wasn’t large. You could explore the whole of it in a day without bumping into the same person twice. It earned its name because of the two bridges at opposite ends of the island. South Bridge was the footbridge I’d crossed into Illusion Square.
North Bridge was this one-lane, rickety as hell, terrifying traffic bridge that led to New Orleans. No one in their right mind would drive on that piece of—
Whoa. I stopped short near the foot of North Bridge. When I left thirty years ago, it was a death trap. Now …
North Bridge had also gone through a glow-up. A literal one. The thing glowed like a gilded runway to the mundane world beyond. Without moving further, I knew there was a ramshackle cabin at the base of the bridge. And a troll lived there.
I didn’t want to interact with a troll at the moment.
Nor did I need to. My instincts guided me to the left, through more forest. In the distance, the soft twangs of a guitar drifted through the trees.
There was an old caretaker’s house on the outskirts of the island, and I smiled at the wave of nostalgia that only familiar music can foster.
But I knew where I was going at this point, and as more of the island made itself known to me, I couldn’t wait to get there.
I cleared the forest and found what I’d been looking for. Exactly as I remembered it.
It wasn’t much to look at. A simple park bench on the west side of the island, with dark green slats and brass fittings bolted to a small base of concrete. I rounded the bench, sat, and exhaled.
The bench itself was simple. But it had one hell of a view.
My back was to Bridge House. I’d have to peer over my shoulder and crane my neck to glimpse North Bridge. In front of me was a short embankment leading down to the bayou. And ahead of me was miles and miles of water.
Possibility.
That’s the exact word Ray used when we sat on this bench thirty years ago, and pledged eternity to one another.
“Look out there, Simone. There’s so much possibility beyond Treater’s Way.”
He folded me in his arms. My most favorite place to escape. His broad shoulders and tall frame shielded me from the world. Hid me from pain. The slight tug at my scalp as he twirled a strand of my curls in one finger. The silk of his hair kissing my cheek.
“We can go anywhere we want, as long as we’re together.”
Even at eighteen, I’d heard the fear in his voice. I’d understood he was trying to convince himself, shrouded himself in the naivete of youth. But I’d suppressed the panic that quickened my pulse, attributing it to the line of kisses he planted at my temple.
Our affair began late senior year, when his parents forced him to see Agatha. I was helping in the office a few times a week, already eighteen and clinging to the last piece of my mother’s legacy.
By graduation, we were madly in love. Our passionate, but secret, affair manifested in stolen kisses under North Bridge and secret trysts at Bridge House. At the time, no one lived there but Ruth. We existed in a world of our creation, foolishly believing the bubble wouldn’t burst.
“There’s no one but us, Simone. We’re all the family we need.”
The water rippled, drawing me away from that night. The fattest, longest alligator I’d ever seen slowed its ascent on shore. I was strangely unafraid and recognized him in an instant.
“Hey, Norbert,” I said to the gator. “Long time no see.”
“So good to see you’re home, Simone.” He winked his singular eye at me. Did all the magical creatures in this town have one of something that should be a pair? “Finally figured out how to break your own ward, huh?”
“I, uh, have I?” I stuttered over my words, a rush of terror cooling my veins. What ward? And how had I broken it?
Norbert stared at me for a long moment. I stared right back.
“Keep going,” he said. “You’re almost there.” He flicked his tail, angled his body, and slid into the water with a speed I wouldn’t have thought capable of such a large alligator.
Keep going. Back into the memories unfolding on the island. A night I thought I’d never forget with Ray. When he slept the next morning, I’d crept out to go for a run.
I was on a perfectly good island. I could have run the length of it and been happy.
But deep down, I knew I was already letting go. Maybe I hadn’t believed, even then, Ray’s promise. Or maybe it was because I’d already made a promise of my own.
I’d been accepted to Tulane. Agatha and I had our plan. I was going to college and would complete my clinicals in New Orleans. Get the experience of a mundane, then return and take over at the Magnolia.
Helping Ray and processing my mother’s death helped me find my calling. He wanted freedom from responsibility. He wanted to take to the open road, or the open bayou, and see what the world brought him.
I had a different path.
So instead of running on the island, I’d crossed South Bridge and headed to the track where I knew my friend Ethan would be about to start his morning workout. He’d brought muffins, as if he knew I would be there.
One hour. One hour with a good friend who let me feel safe and strong and required nothing of me. One hour with someone else who had goals and ambition, and who wasn’t afraid to express them.
We’d just finished our run. I was teasing him for losing again.
“Lauren and Ray showed up.” No one was around me, Norbert long gone, but I said it out loud just to break the silent pain of the memory.
Lauren, with her arms crossed and a smirk I wanted to punch off her face, watched us break up. Ray screamed at me, claiming I was a liar and a cheat. He’d charged at Ethan, who wrestled him to the ground but wouldn’t fight him.
Ray crossed North Bridge that day.
And my heart shattered, squashing down a relief I didn’t want to feel. I’d cried for hours right here on this same park bench. In a fit of teen angst, I’d uttered words of pain aloud.
I’m done feeling things so deeply they can rip me up inside. I don’t need family, and I don’t deserve a good one.
My throat was so constricted I could scarcely breathe. My stomach sour and raw. My voice a siren’s song to my soul. I’d dealt myself a devastating blow, not yet understanding the power of my decisions, or how much my voice truly mattered.
I’m done with this town and every single memory of it. It’ll take a miracle to bring me back to Treater’s Way.
As the memory unfolded, a series of angry sobs erupted from a compartment deep within my heart that I’d sealed up tight and locked shut with a magical ward.
Every moment of my first eighteen years rushed forward, fitting into the places where I’d created stories of my past to keep moving toward the wrong future.
Every vivid detail I’d glossed over. Every tiny voice I’d squelched. Every errant thought I’d ignored.
Including the mysterious meeting with Agatha the day she died. The woman, calling herself Stella, who’d rushed into my failed therapy clinic in need of assistance, telling me she was dying and didn’t know who to leave her estate to.
To soothe her, I’d reached into my metaphorical drawer of therapy tools and brought out the one I’d deemed most effective.
The same technique I’d used with Doug.
The miracle question.