by R. K. Ryals
The smile above him grew, the woman’s tinkling laughter joining with his.
“They’re insane!” someone hissed.
There was something terribly beautiful about insanity.
There was something terribly beautiful about life.
Mildred Kramer sobbed. “A cup,” she breathed. “You went into a burning house for a cup?”
Grayson continued to chuckle. It was beyond him to stop now, as if his body held too much joy, too much of everything—guilt, pain, love, forgiveness, fear, relief. In the ash-filled sky behind the woman, ravens flew.
Grayson laughed, his cheeks growing wetter.
Beyond them, the house burned. A no man’s land, Lyric had once called it.
Except it wasn’t.
As he laughed, his hand clutching the mug to his heart, his gaze on the birds just beyond her head, he realized something.
He liked it here. He liked it in this insane world, in this no man’s land.
His gaze captured hers.
Kneeling next to him despite the crowd, their mingled laughter like crazed cackles in a sober world, Lyric touched him, her small fingers trailing down the moisture on his cheeks, her palms coming away black and bloody.
Grayson was bleeding, but he was alive. Most importantly, so was she.
Her hands closed over his on his chest, the cup—her life—cradled between them. Their laughter wasn’t as loud now, but it was still there.
“Crazy,” someone muttered.
It was true. They were insane. They were crazy and wild and free. Because, in the end, they were going to survive. They were going to live in their no man’s land. They were going to flourish in a land of tea and ravens.
For a long time the house burned, firefighters yelling and running and escorting people away. By some strange twist of fate, no matter how fast the wood burned, how quickly the house fell, the porch remained, the rocking chair sitting quietly among the chaos.
As the townsfolk stared, the chair moved.
Creak, it said. Creak.
Epilogue
The most beautiful endings are often the ones that still haven’t been told …
~The Tea Girl~
Three months later …
It started with a ceramic coffee cup, the handle too big for her hands, a small place in the top chipped away. It was a well-used cup, the color faded by time. There was nothing special about it, nothing remarkable. It was a plain brown mug, thick and comfortable when held.
The sun was just beginning to rise when she approached the porch, the chilly Mississippi wind beating at her long cotton skirt and bright yellow sweatshirt. Her long, mousy brown hair was piled on the top of her head, tendrils of it swinging against her neck.
If the wind blew just right, smoke still rose from the ruins piled behind the porch. There, standing like a beacon in a world of grey, sat a peeling, whitewashed rocking chair.
As if sensing the woman’s presence, it moved.
Creak, the chair said. Creak.
Her eyes fell closed, a thousand emotions descending, cloaking her. In the silence, she sang.
Sing to me, called the maid.
Smile for me, replied the raven.
But I cannot smile, the maid wept.
Then I cannot sing, the raven replied.
To the sky, to the mountain, to the sea.
The bird flew.
To the planes, to the future, to the past.
The maid withdrew
A cup, a cup, a cup.
A cup of tea, the raven called.
A cup of tea, my maiden dear.
A cup, a cup, a cup.
A cup of tea. A cup of fear.
Above her, in the trees, ravens cawed.
“Like a pied piper,” a male voice called.
The girl stilled, her lips twitching, her head lifting. “Did you come for the tea?” she asked.
Colored leaves and twigs snapped as the man approached her, his boots stopping just behind the hem of her multi-colored skirt. She looked like a sunflower growing from ashes.
“I never turn down a cup of tea,” the man whispered.
It had been two months since Lyric Mason had seen Grayson Kramer. After the fire, he’d been rushed to the hospital to be treated for smoke inhalation and a concussion. With the cup safe, Lyric had packed her car and attempted to see him, but the family had refused.
Stories, Lyric was learning, didn’t always end the way we expected them to. There was no forgiveness after the fire, no acceptance. She’d forgiven herself for her past, but it didn’t change how people viewed her and her family. If she could tell them about the cup … Regardless, insanity ran in the family, too.
There had been nowhere for her to go except home. She’d stood outside of the hospital the day she left and stared up at his window, but he’d been unable to meet her there the way he often had when she was inside Old Ma’am’s house, their silhouettes facing each other across the fields.
Facing the porch, Lyric stared at the ashes. So many memories gone. Her story hadn’t changed. It couldn’t be changed. The cup would always be a part of her life. There’d always be a fear of it. One day, Lyric would pass away and come back as a raven or it would break, and everything would end. Until then, she lived life.
“You don’t want to stay here,” she said.
Mist floated on the breeze in front of her as Grayson exhaled, his breath tickling her ear. He smelled like mint and smoke.
“Your tea girl story needs a new ending,” he said suddenly, his arms snaking around her waist.
She laughed. “Unlike curses, promises can’t be broken.”
Grayson’s chin fell to her shoulder. Her hands fell to his on her waist. He made her feel safe, less on edge.
“No,” he agreed, “they can’t. They don’t have to be broken.”
Her head turned, her gaze catching his. He was thinner, but no less masculine, his jaw shadowed.
“Fairy tales have happily ever afters,” he said. “True life rarely does. Love isn’t about being with someone because he knows she will live. Love is about being with someone despite knowing she could die.” His gaze searched hers. “Life isn’t guaranteed for anyone. You won’t leave me, Lyric.” He glanced up at the ravens. “You’ll always come back.” His gaze fell back to hers. “It’s why you returned, isn’t it?”
She snorted. “That’s a little presumptuous, isn’t it?’
“What?” he asked “To presume you’ve fallen in love with me?”
Her brows rose.
He laughed. “Remember, I never told you not to fall in love with me. It’s good for a guy’s ego.”
She grinned. “And you?”
“Me?” he asked. “Oh, are you asking if I’m in love with you?” His head lifted, his hands rising to her shoulders, turning her so that she faced him. “Lyric, I fell before you told me not to.”
Lyric rarely cried. There was no time in her life for tears, but she felt them now, the moisture burning the back of her eyes.
Grayson’s hand came up to cradle her face. “Aren’t you tired of doing it alone?” he asked. His gaze searched hers. “Because I am.” His other hand joined the first, her cheeks smooth against his calloused palms. “I’d rather share every moment with you over your strange cups of tea.”
Laughter escaped her, sending mist rising between them, the temperatures cold enough to carry their breaths on the breeze.
“I’ll never be accepted here,” she whispered.
“And?” Grayson asked. His hands tightened on her face. “There are other places. Different towns. I love my family, and I know they love me. Maybe they’ll accept it at some point. Maybe they won’t.” His gaze went once more to the trees, to the ravens. “But sometimes it’s enough just being with someone who understands.”
He dropped his arms, his hand finding Lyric’s. Lifting it, he placed her palm against his torso, against the healed knife wound on his chest. “We have our scars,” he pointed out, “and that’s oka
y. It’s okay not to be okay. It’s even better not to be okay together.”
Lyric laughed. “Oh, we’re destined for such a beautiful future.”
He leaned closed, his solemn expression sobering her. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I think we are.”
With that, he lifted something from his pocket, a plain silver necklace. It wasn’t fancy, the chain long. “I’ve been watching the house,” he said. “I knew you’d be back.”
He lifted the necklace. On the end, there was a miniature tea cup with a raven perched on the rim. “It’s corny, I know,” he said on a laugh, “but it makes sense.” He pointed at himself and then at her. “This is it,” he said. “This is home. Not a place. Not a town. This. Us. Two people.”
He placed the necklace over her head. “A land of tea and ravens.”
He kissed her then, because not kissing her was wrong. Her lips tasted like tea. They tasted warm. They tasted like home.
Pulling away, Lyric peered up at him. He was right. Walking away from this when there could be a future, no matter how brief, was wrong. She wanted to see where a relationship with him would go.
The memory of their night together in the camper sent warmth through her middle. “The art,” she whispered, “is in the doing not how well it’s done the first time.” The words he’d whispered to her then worked just as well now. The beauty of a relationship was in the trying, not in how much you stumbled while learning to walk.
Her hand found his face. “Smile, Grayson.”
He grinned. “Run, Lyric.”
On the porch, the rocking chair moved. Creak, the chair said. Creak.
Caws filled the air as ravens took flight, their wings fluttering. On the breeze, two breaths lifted, the mingled mist making a journey through a no man’s land, through a land of tea and ravens.
About the Author
R.K. Ryals is the author of emotional and gripping young adult and new adult paranormal romance, contemporary romance, and fantasy. With a strong passion for charity and literacy, she works as a full time writer encouraging people to "share the love of reading one book at a time." An avid animal lover and self-proclaimed coffee-holic, R.K. Ryals was born in Jackson, Mississippi and makes her home in the Southern U.S. with her husband, her three daughters, a rescue dog named Oscar the Grouch, A Shitzsu named Tinkerbell, an OCD cat, and a coffee pot she honestly couldn't live without. Should she ever become the owner of a fire-breathing dragon (tame of course), her life would be complete. Visit her at http://rkryals.com/ or subscribe to R.K. Ryals' Newsletter
Other works available:
The Redemption Series
Redemption
Ransom
Retribution
Revelation (coming 2014)
The Acropolis Series
The Acropolis
The Labyrinth
Deliverance
The Thorne Trilogy
Cursed
Possessed
Dancing with the Devil
The Scribes of Medeisia Series
Mark of the Mage
Fist of the Furor
City in Ruins (Coming 2014/2015)
The Legend Series
The Singing River
Retaliation Bridge (Coming 2014)
The Story of Awkward