Chosen

by Kristen Day

  “We can read each other’s thoughts!?” I squeaked. I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted him knowing some of the things that went through my mind. Mainly the thoughts about him.

  “Not quite,” he explained. “We can purposely talk to each other in our thoughts. But I can’t hear your thoughts unless you specifically send them to me.” I stared wide-eyed at him and tried to will my thoughts to him.

  “I love you too, Finn” I thought. It sounded louder, more clear in my own head, and I knew immediately it had worked when his eyes lit up.

  “Whoa,” he exclaimed.

  “This could take some getting used to,” I laughed.

  “The silver eagle flies at dusk…” he thought in my head with a James Bond-esque expression.

  “Quit that!” I scolded him between laughter.

  “Morrison. Finn Morrison,” he added with the same expression.

  “Don’t make me ban you from my brain,” I put my hands on my hips. That’s when I noticed the walls. I gasped and Finn followed my eyes with a gasp of his own. One of the walls had almost solidified. It was still slightly blurry, but I could discern specific images. Stunned into silence, we walked hand in hand to the stone wall. Our stunned silence morphed into mind-boggling silence, as we gaped at the images before us.

  The first was my image, donned in a striking white wedding dress and kissing a tall, dark and handsome Finn, who was sharply dressed in a black tuxedo. The next several were too blurry to make out, but I could make out Phoebe, Carmen, and Willow amongst the shifting images.

  “Pasha,” Finn whispered.

  “What is -“ I began, but was dumbfounded into silence once more when my eyes fell onto the image that had captured his attention. It was an image of us on the beach…with two small children. A toddler dressed in a pink bathing suit played in the sand, while a slightly taller boy dressed in black swim trunks ran along the water’s edge. We turned to look at each other at the same time, and I saw tears swimming in Finn’s dark blue eyes.

  “The future is an amazing place when we’re in it together,” I vowed, as I placed my hands on either side of his face and kissed him softly on the lips. As I did, an intense feeling of completeness drenched my heart and I found myself not wanting to pull my lips from his. Thankfully, he leaned back and gazed into my eyes.

  “Together,” he whispered, and brought his lips to mine once more.

  Epilogue

  Even through my wiser and braver eyes, my old neighborhood park looked just as dilapidated as it had so many years ago. I slid behind one of the poplar trees and peaked around its trunk. She was sitting amongst the wildflowers just as I’d remembered, plucking away at yellow petal after yellow petal. The entire park was deserted, for which I was grateful. Still eyeing the young girl, I sent an image into her thoughts in order to shroud myself, and then stepped out from behind the tree. As I approached she was talking quietly to herself.

  “He loves me. He loves me not…” she recited.

  “Love is never left to chance, dear.” I instructed vaguely.

  “Huh?” she piqued at my voice. She spun around and eyed me wearily, as my eyes lovingly swept over her scraggly blonde hair, dirty jeans, and too big t-shirt. Her bright blue eyes glanced around the park until she was sure there were no other kids around that I could belong to. She looked up at me once more with a confused expression. “Do I know you?”

  “No, dear. I’m only visiting.” I smiled down at her warmly. She titled her head as if contemplating something and then asked another question.

  “Who are you visiting?” she asked curiously.

  I chuckled and watched her eyes inspect my mother’s aquamarine necklace as I played with it. “It would seem the only one I’m visiting with at the moment is you! How’s that sound?”

  She stood awkwardly, her ankle rolling over a rock as she pitched sideways. I grabbed her arm just in time, and watched as she cringed in pain from several fresh bruises I knew all too well. When she cried out I released her arm, but didn’t ask questions. I already knew whose hands had inflicted those wounds. Anger boiled in my veins as I thought about him, and I shuffled my feet and waited for her to recover.

  “Do you have grandkids?” she glanced around again.

  “I will someday,” I laughed, and gestured to the flower she held in an effort to change the subject. “May I?”

  She handed me the fragile flower and I inspected it with interest. I held it up to my nose and breathed its fragrance in with eyes closed, and then I smiled.

  “They say Sweet William will always find his Black-Eyed Susan,” I mused.

  “Who’s Susan?” she asked. “Why does she have a black eye?”

  “Their story is one of America’s oldest and least known romance tales,” I explained, and held up the flower with raised eyebrows. “Actually, this particular flower was named for her. This is a Black-Eyed Susan, named such for its dark center.”

  I handed the flower back to her as I continued, “After meeting beneath the silver light of a full moon in a field of wildflowers, William asked Susan to marry him, presenting her with a bouquet of those very wildflowers. Only one day before their wedding, sweet William was taken prisoner on a war-bound vessel set for the high seas. Throughout his plight-ridden journey, her memory kept him alive; the hope of seeing her again pushing him to survive. Upon his release a year later, William was informed that Susan had run away to evade an arranged marriage. After searching for his true love for months and months, sweet William decided to return to the field where they had first met. That night as the full moon rose, William finally arrived at the field to find his dear Susan sleeping. She clutched a dried bouquet of wildflowers in her hands…the very same kind of flower you hold in your hand today.”

  She glanced down at the yellow flower in her hand and smiled. “I want a sweet William.”

  “Maybe you already have one,” I hinted with a conspiring grin.

  “I doubt it. Plus, I don’t really want a black eye,” she clarified with a giggle.

  About the Author

  Kristen Day is a native North Carolinian who, in true southern fashion, is addicted to sweet tea, baked goods, and football. She graduated from Appalachian State University and bleeds black and gold. When she’s not kayaking or making jewelry, she writes paranormal romance and urban fantasy novels. Forsaken is the first novel in the captivating and addictive Daughters of the Sea Trilogy.

  Connect with her online at:

  www.kris10-day.blogspot.com or www.goodreads.com/kris10day