Eyes matching the color of the loch waters bore into my soul. They almost seem full of panic and pleading. Asking me a question. They invoke a sense of instinct. An instinct to give everything to the man in front of me.
He places a small object into my palm at that moment. A ring.
“Please remember, Jade. Here. I made this for you. I need you to remember us.” He pleads and then adds, “I didn’t go all this way across the realms to get here, just for you to walk through this world blindly. Please put this on.” His sadness confuses me, and it confuses me even more when I look up to ask him what this is, but he is gone.
I feel floaty after that interaction and promptly go find a room, needing to avoid the onlookers from earlier today and to be alone with my thoughts. How dare I be so dense not to notice the crest he wore?
Was I really so enamored with the way he looked that I would overlook such an important detail? Of course, I was. I am only twenty, and I despise saying it, but the thought of such a beautiful man showing me any ounce of attention should not be my fault. Although there are names for women who disgrace their purity in such a way.
The sun fades in the room I bought with the only coin left to my name. My mind won’t rest as the man from today consumes my every thought. I pretend we didn’t have to say farewell that night, and give in to desires that would make most girls blush.
I am no longer in control. Only the man with the angst in his eyes has control over me now. His invisible claim on my body, quietly guiding my thistle-pricked fingers, bringing myself to bliss. The devil’s plant she warned. I’m glad I didn’t listen.
I imagine it now. His lips on my neck, soft but urgent. I dip my hand lower, grazing my belly, and follow the path to my most delicate parts. He is there now, licking and sucking until I’m sure he is in this very room with me. I open my eyes for just a moment. Shadows twirl about me. Surely stars brought on for what comes next.
Two fingers find their way inside me. They are mine, but they don’t feel that way. Who truly guides me to this point? The smell of woody earth and burning hickory envelops me. I did not make a fire, but there is one starting within.
I choke on the dense earthy smell as I hit the spot that ached so deeply for the English soldier. My insides pulse, and I ride the soft waves surrounding my fingers as I make a wet mess of them. A proper woman would be ashamed, but it is not my fault—for the devil took over tonight.
When I am done, I think about the devil’s plant beneath that old hickory. I wonder if perhaps there was something to my mother’s warnings after all. The tiny prick throbs more intensely as I think of it now.
I am rather not myself since meeting the man in the carriage. The one who showed up just moments after a pinpoint of blood appeared on my finger. But a mere coincidence is no reason to believe in superstitions now. I believe only in what I experienced today, which was cut short by the sad reality of politicaldisputes.
The ring stays snugly in my pocket until I finally make my way back to the castle. There isn’t much time to think about it once I get back. I work all day, and only rest when the sun goes down. The downside of being of inferior status. My tired feet hold a constant ache that shouldn’t belong at my young age.
I have a small and dark dirt room in the castle. A basic servant’s quarters, and that is where I go to mend the hole in my apron. I pull out the needle and thread, and with it comes the ring. It is quite a lovely ring, one made of metal and stone I have never seen before. One that speaks of wealth and power, and I know nothing of that.
Against my better judgement, I place the ring upon my finger. A perfect fit. The walls close in around me as I am pulled into memories. But my heart can’t take what I see.
I see a young Romanian woman being swallowed by the earth as a dark male figure greets her. It is me. Branches grow out of his head. His lips taste of victory and remorse as he lays a kiss against me. And then, his hand is against my throat as roots impale my skin and my blood drains beneath the base of an old hickory.
My soul cannot do this again. I cry through the night, and by dawn, I find release the only way I can—looping the leftover fabric into a noose, and I let myself fall off the banister of the castle’s main entry. Whoever finds me, the Gods bless them.
17
RECORD SHOP
RACINE 1978
We wake in each other’s arms, somehow having made it from the fire to the stairway to my bed. The sheets are wrapped around us in a way that is telling of what took place last night. Ry’s fingers find my face, trailing lightly along the profile of my nose, ending his journey on my bottom lip. He pushes down and rubs it like he can’t believe it is there. As quickly as his thumb is there, he then replaces it with his lips, and I welcome it wholeheartedly.
“Let me take you to breakfast,” he says, almost more of a demand than an inquiry.
“You must read minds,” I murmur. Slightly smiling as I stretch my arms above my head.
We dress quickly. He is in the clothes from the night before, looking more than disheveled, while I jump into a pair of bell bottom jeans and a light grey button-down collared shirt. Before we head out the door, he looks at me in a way that says too much without uttering a single word. Maybe I look that way too, because we both stare at each other like there is only us in this world. For all I care, we are.
But soon, his eyes lose their sparkle as his gaze turns hopeless. I can’t figure out his emotions and what they mean, but I do feel them.And they feel much like a story I’ve been told before. Much like everything in this house. Much like everything about Ry. And I really want to know why.
It takes twenty-five minutes to get into town. We go back toThe Spanish Moss, which is quickly becoming my favorite place to dine out. Their breakfast outdoes anything we have in Detroit. I make sure Walt and Cattie know. Detroit has its own charm, but a bayou breakfast hits different.
“I need to run some quick errands,” Ry says to me as we are standing by the little table set near the window. “There are some shops you may want to browse in the meantime.”
“Oh, OK. I guess I did see a couple on the way in.” I say, not wanting to separate our time together just yet, but also intrigued to see some more of what this town has to offer in terms of shops.
“I’ll meet you on this block in forty-five minutes. Do you have a watch?” Ry asks, pointing to his wrist.
“I do.” I answer, pursing my lips and instinctively touching the wrist that holds my mother’s watch, which has remained a staple item in my daily wardrobe ever since she passed.
