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 RiverOakley 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 channelmyself.
‘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 myhead, 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 myownlife. 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’tneedthat 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 isnotpart 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’shorsenapping!’
‘Soarrestme!’ 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’smagical.
There, to the left of the meadow, is a tree. I gasp. It’s magnificent, huge, unfathomably old. I wouldn’t know thedifference 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,thisis 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?
