Again, a brief silence followed. “Sure, that sounds great, actually. What’s your address?” he asks, sounding genuinely pleased.
“She lives at 113 Clingsburge Road,” I say. “I mean, we live,” I correct.
This time, the silence on the other side of the phone is even longer. I wait, but still no response. “Hello?” I ask, feeling foolish.
“Yeah, sorry. Is Rachel home?”
I shake my head and then realize he can’t see me through the phone. Rolling my eyes at my stupidity, I say “No. You know her?”
He laughs, sounding light. “You do remember how small this town is, right?”
I laugh too, smiling at the sound of his. “I could never forget. You can come over whenever you want,” I say, sounding like a school girl again.
To my surprise, he agrees to be over in ten minutes. We hang up with a casual “see you soon!” and I am in panic mode. What was I thinking? I wasn’t, that’s the problem. Maybe I didn’t make this decision at all; I’ve been a big believer in fate of late, as would be acceptable given the circumstances, but terror still shoots up my spine.
PANG! The actual fear hits me like thousands of icicle tips, pricking at my skin with their cold points. I clutch my stomach, warding off the fear with thoughts of David, Tristan’s eyes, and the Montana landscape. Before I know it, the feeling is gone, having left a cool, uncomfortable sting behind. There is a knock on the door, sending my heartbeat into frenzy.
I take a deep breath and pull my hair around to the front of my neck to frame my face. Lifting my chin higher and pulling my shirt sleeves down, I open the door. Tristan looks striking in a black button-down long-sleeve shirt hanging open over a white t-shirt that graces his torso while dark jeans and black boots cover his lower half. His smile is the most dazzling of all; brightening his blue eyes and making them shine. I feel my temperature rise and blink a few times, trying to get a grip on myself.
“Good afternoon,” he says, voice dripping with happiness but still so sexy. I lick my lips without thinking.
Eyes never leaving his, I say, “You too. Want to hit the trails immediately or have a snack first?” I ask.
He purses his perfect lips, making mine tingle in an unfamiliar way. I bite my lower lip, forcing it to stop behaving so ridiculously. “Why don’t we go for a different type of hike… save ourselves the walk,” he says, raising his eyebrows, voice suspiciously innocent.
I raise my left eyebrow, showing my confusion. Tristan smiles and laughs at my expression. “Come on, I can tell you need a little peace and quiet,” he says, cocky grin morphing into a sad little smile.
Still confused, I shrug, stepping out into the sunlight. I don’t care where we go or what we do, as long as Tristan is with me. I feel an unfamiliar sensation in my right hand; one that is sending scream-like signals to my haze-filled brain to reach for Tristan’s hand, but I refuse to make him uncomfortable. Besides, I don’t want to push him away by alerting him of my strange feelings or conflicting thoughts… being his friend is better than nothing, so I’m content with just being by his side.
To my shock, I feel warm fingers caressing mine, teasing and testing. He’s seeing if I’m okay with him holding my hand, and my body responds before I have time to consider the consequences. I lock my fingers with his, smiling as I feel his palm press against my own. From the corner of my eye, I see his lips lift in a discreet smile.
We walk down the front stairs, reveling in the beautiful scenery. Tristan was probably used to the beauty, but I still find myself stunned by the picturesque terrain. Not wanting to break the silence, I let him lead me in the opposite direction of the road.
“Where are we going?” I ask after a few moments of peaceful silence, unable to control my curiosity any longer.
He looks at me with a mischievous gleam in his light eyes, a look I haven’t seen before. “For a ride,” is all he says.
My footsteps halt, stopping Tristan as well. “I don’t know how to ride a horse! Isn’t there something less… adventurous that would appeal to you?” I say, attempting to joke, but the serious undertone is obvious.
Tristan just continues to walk, pulling me with him by my hand. Our fingers have stayed locked since we left the house, and I’m in no rush to move them. If riding a horse would force us to separate, I refuse to go along with his plan.
About ten minutes later, we climb over a hill and I see the barn, the closest I’d come to it since I’ve been here. Suddenly, a question pops into my mind. “How did you know Rachel has horses?”
He raises his eyebrows and slows our pace slightly. “She’s never mentioned me?” he asks, voice laced with shock and worry.
Tristan keeps his gaze centered on the ground in front of us, probably trying to avoid any tumbles onto the ground. “No, she hasn’t,” I answer slowly.
I hear a sound that seems like a grunt, but more like a hum, coming from Tristan. “Well, I’ve ridden one of her horses- Dino- before. Quite a lot actually. I’m kind of surprised she has never mentioned me,” he says, disbelieving.
Suddenly irritated with my aunt for not bringing up the beautiful boy that rides her horses, I force the frustration down and try to enjoy the moment, which isn’t difficult to do.
“Her and I are still… coping, with living together,” is all I reply. I’d give details if he asked me to; hell, I’d tell him my whole story if I didn’t think he’d run for the hills.
He nods, looking deep in thought. “I don’t know much about you, Katherine. I get the sense that you don’t want to open your life up to everyone, but I’m not everyone. You know you can trust me, right?” I feel him squeeze my hand.
I attempt to smile slightly, but can’t. He pulls me closer to his side, so close that our shoulders touch and our legs almost brush together as we walk. I feel instantly calm, ready to tell him anything he wants to know.
The old me would’ve been mortified to be walking hand in hand with a boy like Tristan; a boy who is not only beautiful, but dangerously compelling. I no longer refer to my ancient happy-self as the “old me”; I refer to the closed off, suicidal, and miserable girl as the old me. Something inside me sings at this revelation, and I’m stunned I have made such progress. I send a silent “thanks” up to the man who made it all possible.
After ten more minutes of leisurely walking, we stand at the open door of the large red barn. The smell is immediate, but I find it oddly homey instead of being repulsed. Tristan pulls me into the structure behind him as he turns his head from side to side, searching.
He gives my hand a squeeze before he releases it. After being hand-in-hand for so long, the cool air on my warm fingers feels wrong and unwelcome. I frown, but turn my face away so he won’t see it. I hear footsteps, Tristan’s, as he rounds the corner on the opposite side of the barn. I follow him, unsure of what to do.
“Here we go,” he says, grunting as he heaves a saddle off the wall. Instead of handing it to me, he slings it over his arm as he grabs a second one.
“Tristan, I wasn’t kidding about not knowing how to ride,” I say in one last stitch effort to save myself from the embarrassment of potentially falling off a horse. My voice is laced with fear, and I feel it start to prickle up my body, from my toes to the tips of my hair.
Fear is one of the worst emotions I was forced to be overly subjected to. It makes my heart beat uncomfortably fast, and my hands shake. Not wanting Tristan to see my over-reaction, I put my hand to my forehead as I take deep breaths, warding off the encompassing feeling.
To my surprise, I feel a hand grasp my wrist lightly. Immediately the painful fear is gone, replaced with warmth that is lightening. I sigh, loudly. I open my eyes to find Tristan standing close to me, eyes filled with what looks like panic. I’m unsure what to think of this, but then he closes his eyes briefly and when he opens them seconds later, the fear is gone.
“It’ll be alright, trust me. You’re probably a natural, being Rachel’s niece,” he says comfortingly. “If you really do
n’t want to, we can do something else. This is the best kind of therapy, though… trust me on this,” his eyes beg, tempting me.
Although I should say no, peer-pressure and all, I trust him inexplicitly, so I nod.
“If you’re scared, we can share Dino. He’s really gentle, my favorite,” Tristan says, leading me out the back door of the empty barn. I wonder for the first time where the horses are.
There is a small room in the barn, separated from the stalls and bags of feed and hay barrels. It’s more like spare space, having no walls or door. But the tiny area isn’t bare; there’s a small couch, bed, and a desk by the large window, overlooking the hill we just climbed. The bed looks like the sheets are fresh, but perfectly neat, showing no signs of anyone sleeping in it. Curious… but, then again, Aunt Rachel seems like the type to have a plan-B for any rendezvous she might have.
We exit the barn through two large, open doors and into a beautiful green pasture. The sun glints off the red of the barn, making the color so bright it hurts my eyes. The grass waves in the light breeze, in desperate need of cutting. The pasture isn’t large; the fence extending maybe three-hundred feet in all four directions, but the allure is not dimmed by the size. Perhaps I will one day get used to the beauty of this state’s country, but I hope it won’t be any day soon.
The breeze pushes my hair back from my neck, exposing its pale surface to the blazing sunlight. Emerging from the dark barn into this magnificent sunlight is like awakening from a nightmare, just more real.
Tristan watches my face as I take in the scenery, a small smile playing on his lips. I avert my gaze from the landscape and focus on the horses grazing in the pasture, looking shiny and strong in their element. The black one is the most stunning animal I have ever seen.
“The black one is Dino. Watch this,” Tristan says, releasing my hand and holding up the saddle. He jingles a bell that is hanging from the side of the leather patch on the side of the riding instrument, and Dino’s head snaps up instantly. He waits for a moment; Tristan jingles the bell again and Dino races towards the gate while the other horses continue with their snacking.
I laugh, unable to hold in the sound of elation. We run over to the gate and I find myself suddenly filled with excitement. Tristan looks at me cockily, which makes my smile wider.
“Trained him myself,” he says, unhooking the lock on the gate and pulling me to his side. Backing us up as he pulls the gate open, Tristan makes a clicking sound with his tongue.
Dino walks out of the pasture, head high and trotting excitedly towards the barn. Tristan shuts the gate and, with a gentle click, locks it back into place. He picks up the saddle, which he had set on the ground, and we walk over to Dino.
I’m struck by the grace of the animal; even in stillness, it has a radiant glow that would make anyone awestruck. His black coat, so black it looks midnight blue, is shiny and completely clean; his tail is long and knot-free, and his mane is French-braided, looking beautiful. The horse is possibly the most exquisite creature on the planet.
“Beautiful, isn’t he?” says Tristan, lovingly stroking the horses thick, muscular neck. “This braid is really killing his badass looks, though,” he jokes.
I revoke my earlier statement; Dino is not the most exquisite creature. Tristan, however, is. I watch carefully as he puts the saddle on Dino with ease, obviously skilled and knowing. Before I can comprehend the deftness of his movements, Tristan is straddled on the secured saddle. He holds out his hand to me, leaning down from atop the large horse.
“Ready?” he asks, face bursting with happiness.
I couldn’t have refused in a million years. My knight in shining armor was, literally, swooping me off of my feet and riding away with me into the sunlight. I laugh out loud at the cliché thought, chastising myself for thinking such girlish thoughts.
I grasp his hand and he instructs me on what to do. Placing my left foot in the stirrup, I grasp his hand tighter as my right one clamps onto the saddle, pulling. Suddenly, I’m practically floating through the air, my leg swinging around instinctively and resting on the opposite side of the horse.
“Great! See, I told you you’d be a natural,” Tristan laughs, the sound vibrating through him, and I could feel it because I was pressed against his back. My cheeks flush with color and I am glad he can’t see my expression.
Tristan flicks the reigns slightly, sending the horse into a slow walk. “Where do you want to go?” my knight asks.
I smile and reply, “Anywhere.”
He turns his head so I can see his smile. “Be prepared, it’s gonna be a long, bumpy ride,” he says with a mischievous tone.
I laugh, giddy with euphoria. The ride couldn’t possibly be bumpier than the walk here, but if it is, I know I have Tristan to hold on to.
Chapter 6
He seriously wasn’t kidding about it being a long ride. The watch on my wrist told me it has been almost forty-five minutes, and my butt is sore from bouncing on the hard saddle. I wasn’t complaining about the ride, mostly because I was stuck pressed up against Tristan.
In these forty-five minutes, we haven’t said a word. Not one moment of this time has consisted of any awkwardness, but rather a steady peace that fills me with happiness; real, pure happiness. My angel, my knight, the one to show me it is possible to feel again. The one to show me it is possible to feel such staggering happiness. All this contentment, just from a ride through the woods, with the light streaming through the tall trees like raindrops of sun and the air thick with the smell of pine.
“Here we are,” whispers Tristan, just loud enough for me to hear, but quiet enough not the break the spell around us.
I gasp as Dino takes the last few steps towards the edge of the woods. The scene in front of us is truly magical, as if we stepped inside a painting of heaven. For a split second, I wonder if I actually died the day I killed myself, and this is heaven. The sun sits lower in the sky, and the mountains, closer than ever before, glimmer with the rays of light being cast upon them. A lake rests at the foot of the cliff-like structure, shining in the sunlight.
“Oh, Tristan,” I say, wrapping my arms around his waist even tighter. “It’s beautiful,” I whisper in his ear, the tickle raising goose bumps on his skin.
He pulls on the rope, stopping Dino in his tracks. Turing his face towards mine, his nose brushes my cheek and my heart stutters. Tristan smiles and pats my hand, which is clenching his shirt.
“This is our stop,” he says, shifting. With grace and expertise, he dismounts Dino and stands below me, reaching his hand out, waiting for me.
I take his hand and swing my left leg around and dismount, not nearly as graceful as Tristan, but good enough for a beginner. I smile as I wobble on my numb legs, bending my knees in an attempt to regain feeling.
The pins and needles don’t subside as Tristan leads Dino over to a patch of grass, where he promptly decides to lay on his side, basking in the sunlight. I laugh at the sight, never having seen a horse plop down with such finality. It’s comical.
Tristan sits down with Dino, stroking his legs and stomach. I’m shocked by his gesture, which is so loving you just know he’s done it a million times.
“Tell me how you know my aunt,” I say, walking over to the two beautiful creatures. “What’s your story?” I ask, unable to help myself. I want to know Tristan, really know him; his past, his dreams, his heartaches. If he’s my angel, the least I can do is try my best to be deserving of such a human being.
“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” he says darkly, eyes taking on an intense look that frightens me slightly. “You’ll hear it anyways,” he mumbles.
My heart picks up, unwilling to be unaffected by his words. Telling him my story would mean risking this feeling of perfection. I don’t want his curiosity to intrude on my fantasy; my fantasy that everything is normal, that I am not a wounded soul on a mission to rebuild. Revealing my past would mean giving Tristan a free-pass into my future, and part of me is still hesi
tant to subject him to the horror that was my life.
Picking up on my hesitation, Tristan smiles, but it isn’t a kind smile. It’s more of a sneer, filled with bitterness and animosity. I’m afraid it’s for me, the nervousness and hurt dripping its way into my blood like morphine, but I keep my face schooled. Tristan’s expression immediately changes, shifting into a horrified look of disbelief.
He grabs my hands in both of his, instantly freeing me of the worries inside me. His eyes narrow slightly and I see his jaw smart, his teeth clenched. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath, and when he opens them, all signs of anger, fear, or bitterness are replaced with a glowing kindness.
“Katherine,” he hesitates, looking at our hands. “Do you believe in angels?”
Stunned, my mouth pops open and a cold sweat breaks out across my back, making me shiver. What would sound like a bizarre question to others sounds like a lifeline to me; the final lifeline I need before throwing myself into the ocean. I trust him, and something inside of my heart clicks into place.
“Absolutely,” I say, biting my lip as it trembles. His head swivels up, making his eyes level with mine.
“Do you believe in God?” he asks, sounding cautious.
“Even more so,” I answer immediately.
“Do you believe in second chances?” he says, sounding hopeful.
“Absolutely,” I say, eyes threatening to fill with tears.
“I’ve waited to hear you say those words for a long time. I’ll tell you my story, but only if you tell me yours first. I want to know about these,” he says, releasing my hands and pushing up the sleeves of my shirt, revealing my wrists and forearms. In one quick movement, he flips my hands over so the inside of my scarred wrists are exposed.
I instinctively want to snatch my hands back and run away, but I stay rooted in place, trapped in Tristan’s gaze.
“Do you believe in angels?” I ask, sounding breathless.
He sucks in a breath, and gives a strangled “Yes, I believe in angels. Yes, I believe in God. Yes, I believe in second chances.”
Pieces of a Mending Heart Page 5