by Denise Daisy
The footsteps grew closer. The approaching figure stepped into the moonlight. Bronwyn’s heart leaped.
Travis.
He approached the pond and sat next to her, and as much as she hated to admit it, she was glad he did. Despite the fact she was trying to convince herself she wasn’t interested in him, she longed to be near him. Besides, she intended to interrogate him. She knew that at the least, he was keenly aware of what lurked in the woods. He knew the first day she had questioned him, yet he had avoided the subject, blaming it on kids or curious teenagers.
“What’s going on around here? Who are the cloaked men stalking us from the woods? I know you know. I saw you talking with one of them in the garden yesterday.”
Travis looked out over the pond.
“There are secrets and mysteries that are not to be revealed to everyone.”
Her suspicion rose. “That’s unfair.”
“How is that?”
“We’re obviously being stalked. Am I not allowed to know why?”
“In time.”
His words frightened her. “What do you mean by that?”
“Exactly what I said. You will know in time.”
Her agitation continued to rise.
“Maybe I won’t wait for your time. What if I march right into the inn and tell everyone, and make a call to the local police?”
“Won’t do you any good.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“No.” Travis hurled a small stone across the water. “I am protecting you.”
His words stunned her into silence.
He returned to face her. “How’s the re-write going?”
Bronwyn would not allow herself to be deceived. There was more to these hooded creatures than Travis wanted her to know--something strangely unusual at work in these mountains. She sensed it from the moment of their arrival three nights ago. If Travis was protecting her, that must mean she was in danger. If the cloaked figures meant her harm, then why was he having a private conversation with one of them?
She looked at him. He was reading her thoughts.
“In time,” he said quietly. “How is the re-writing going?”
She stared at him, her emotions waging a war inside. She feared the man that sat before her in many ways, yet her heart ached for him. There was no escaping the fact that she was unwillingly drawn to him. She longed to be near him, yet another part of her desired to run far away from him. She sighed.
“It’s not going. I’ve been staring at a blank computer screen all day, and have produced nothing. I don’t know, maybe I’m done with writing.”
“Do you think that you’re wasting your time writing these scripts, and putting off the story that is buried deep within you? Maybe you’re burying it deeper by all the clutter you allow in your life.”
“Yes”, she answered quickly. “I know that for certain. But, these stories, no matter how trite and sappy, pay the bills.”
“Then you might as well be writing for the National Enquirer.” His words stung.
She desired to snap off a sarcastic, defensive rebuttal, but she had none. Travis took advantage of her silence.
“You’re making a living for yourself, instead of living the life you were born to live.”
The heat sensation began rising within her once again, cued by his words. Her heart beat faster. She reached deep into the water in an attempt to cool her arms. She nervously splashed more water over the top of her legs, and then repeated the action by splashing her neck and chest.
He pressed on. “You’re attempting to write a love story, yet love is such a vast subject, and one with intense emotion. Science can’t even explain it, and you’re trying to write about that emotion between two people, yet you have never really loved anyone on this earth except yourself.”
Her hands left the water. “What? How can you say that? You don’t know me. I have loved. I loved Ryan deeply.”
“You never really loved Ryan.” He sounded certain.
She lifted her feet from the water. Intrigued, she turned her body to face him and looked directly into his dark eyes. “Okay, explain yourself.”
He stared back, his eyes once again penetrating her soul.
“Can you take it?”
“Take what?”
“The truth.”
“Why wouldn’t I be able to take the truth?”
“Because truth always sets you free. And some people find it fearful to be totally free. For some reason, they seem to find comfort in the chains that bind them.”
Her eyes flashed as she leaned forward, her body closer to Travis than she intended. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
Travis suppressed another smile that pulled at the corner of his lips.
“You’re a storyteller. You invent characters. You create them in your imagination exactly how you wish them to be. Correct?”
She nodded.
“You did the same with Ryan. You loved a man who did not exist anywhere but in your ideals. You loved a person that wasn’t actually Ryan.”
“Not true. I knew him very well. We lived together. You get to know someone that way.”
“Then he suddenly changed and turned into someone you didn’t know anymore. Right?”
“Yes, in a way he did.” She couldn’t argue with that.
“He didn’t change. You were finally forced to see Ryan for who he really was. The true Ryan. Not your ideal, created version of him.”
She contemplated his comment. His words seemed so obvious. She didn’t want to think that she had actually fallen for a self-absorbed, ego-driven, shallow person. She was smarter than that. Now she wondered if Ryan had ever loved her. Obviously he had not.
Sadness gripped her. “I guess Ryan never really loved me. His true love was obviously fame and recognition.”
“If all that had been offered to Ryan had been offered to you, would you have taken it?”
She thought a minute before she answered. “Six months ago, I am sure I would have. I’d have been crazy not to. But I’d have taken Ryan right along with me.”
“What if Ryan had asked you to turn it all down?”
“I never asked Ryan to turn it all down.”
“That’s not what I asked you.”
Her voice rose, all her suppressed anger for Ryan resurfacing. “It would have been very selfish of him.”
“Would you have turned it all down for him?”
“No” She nearly shouted it. “No, I wouldn’t have turned any of it down for him. I would have seen him for the self-serving, egotistical, person that he was.”
Her voice trailed off as she realized her last statement, seen Ryan for who he was…
Travis was right. She had invented Ryan to be the man she wanted him to be, the man for whom she longed, never seeing him for who he really was.
She looked at Travis, realization shining in her eyes. He leaned forward and said softly, “If I say, I love you Bronwyn. Do I mean I love you in the same way as I love these mountains, or the smell of the earth after a good rain, or the way I love music? Do I love you because the way you look ignites a passion inside of me? Is my love for you only contingent on the way it affects me? How it makes me feel? If so, then I only truly love myself. And I only love and want you for how it affects me.”
He moved very close to her, his eyes reaching deep into her soul. “Or do I love you, Bronwyn? Do I love the person who looks at me from those emerald green eyes? Do I love you despite the times you are angry and bitter and unlovely? Do I continue to love you although you freely gave your heart to another? Can I send you away, knowing I will never experience you, but you, will experience all you’ve ever dreamed of? I can, if my love is for you and not myself.”
She was silent, completely entranced in his words. The heat weakened her body. She wanted to cry, sob tears of regret over wasted time and loneliness. Everything within her wanted to lean against his chest. She wanted him to wrap his arms around her and hold her under the moonlight
. If only he would make the first move. If only he would offer.
They sat in silence for a few moments. Despite her inner urgings, she turned her body away from his and back to the water.
“True love is sacrifice,” he said.
“Have you sacrificed a lot for Mavis?”
“Love never keeps count.”
“Has she done the same for you?”
“Love never keeps count,” he repeated.
An unseen tear escaped her eye and splashed into the pond. She quickly stroked the waters not wanting him to notice. The moonlight reflected off the rippling surface.
“I couldn’t imagine a more perfect place.” Then, feelings and words started to spill. “It’s times like these that inspire me. The turmoil of my soul and the strong desire to right all the wrongs. I feel a strong urge to fight against, yet for, something. To defy every odd stacked against me. I sense awareness that there is something brewing, a purpose calling me to better things worth living for. The inner turmoil gives me a strange sense of peace. It calls to me, beckons me, out of the mundane and into the remarkable...” she chuckled at herself. “Wow! Where did that come from?”
“That came from you, Bronwyn. It’s what you were truly put on this earth to do.” He said it with certainty, peering into her eyes.
Her voice dropped to a near whisper. “I feel it here in Moonshine more than anywhere. This place calls to me, like last night at the waterfalls. I heard a song, music; something was calling my soul, calling to my innermost being. Call it altitude sickness or however you wish to explain it, but I have never felt anything like that before. It was unreal, yet more real than anything I have ever experienced in my life.”
Travis listened to her but said nothing. Her words were music to his soul.
***
Bronwyn quietly pushed open the door; thankful it didn’t creak, and crept into the room. Bethany and Lillian were both asleep, more than likely for quite some time.
She had never intended on staying out in the garden so late, but once Travis showed up and their intriguing conversation went from intense to intimate, time melted away. She stole into the bathroom, politely closing the door before turning on the light. She quickly changed from her clothes into her sleeping briefs and tank, brushed her teeth, and washed her face. Turning off the light, she opened the door and crept into bed.
“Where have you been?”
Bethany’s whisper startled her. “Crap! You scared me!”
“It’s a guilty conscience that frightens so easily!”
“I’m not guilty of anything! Go back to sleep!”
“You guys can stop whispering. I’m awake” Lillian said, her head remaining on the pillow.
“You see Bethany, you woke up Lil’ being all nosey.”
Bethany sat up in the bed. “No, you woke her up, sneaking into the room at an ungodly hour after your late-night escapades.”
Lillian sat up. “You’re having exploits with Travis?”
“No, I am not.”
“Yes, she is!” Bethany said firmly.
“Be quiet, or you’re going to wake up everyone in the inn. Just go back to sleep.”
“Not a chance.” Lillian fluffed her pillow and leaned it against the head board. “This is too good.”
Bethany turned on the lamp. “So where were you? And why are you sneaking in so late?”
“Out with it, woman!” Lillian added.
“I was in one of the gardens, thinking.”
“Were you alone?”
“Yes and No.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I was alone for a while, until someone else showed up.”
“And who might this someone else be?” Lillian mocked.
“Travis,” Bronwyn tried to be nonchalant.
“I knew it!” Bethany yelled. Lillian and Bronwyn both quieted her.
“What were you doing?” She asked.
“We were only talking.”
“About what?” She demanded.
“Writing, writers block, love.”
Bethany‘s eyes narrowed. “Uh huh.”
“It’s not what you’re thinking. Real love, true love, sacrificial love.”
“Sounds deep,” Bethany said sarcastically. “He’s only playing the game, Bronwyn, setting you up for the moment.”
“He’s really not like that. There was plenty of opportunity tonight, but he never made a move.” Bronwyn felt the disappointment in her voice.
“Are you falling for a married man?” Lillian asked.
“It’s not what you think.”
“Deny it then,” Bethany said, challenge in her voice. “Deny that you’re not attracted to him.”
“I’ll admit there is an attraction. I won’t deny that. But it’s more than just a sexual attraction. He’s like no one I’ve ever known, yet there is something about him that is distantly familiar and comfortable. Like we were soul mates meant for each other, but for some reason we were born in two different worlds. Travis has been here, hidden away in these mountains, and I‘ve been miles away in Southern California.”
“Yet fate has brought you two together!” Lillian sighed. “What are the chances of the bus breaking down here, in Moonshine, connecting you two at last?”
Bronwyn sighed. “And who’d ever thought my soul mate would be married, keeping us apart forever?”
Bethany smiled at Bronwyn compassionately.
“I’m sorry. You may not be able to have him, but I think you’ve found your re-write. Think about it. It has everything. Leading lady meets a handsome mysterious stranger, her ultimate soul mate, who rescues her more than once.”
“And they’re forced to spend a long stormy night together in a hidden cabin,” Lillian said.
“There is a strong attraction between them that they both are denying.” Bethany was rolling out the plot now. “He’s married and she is forced to stay at the inn that he and his wife own.”
“He’s an honorable person,” Lillian chimed in, excited. “Very committed to his wife, despite the fact she’s been scarred by a terrible accident.”
“But,” Bethany continued, “His love and commitments have never been tested, since he’s never been out of the small hidden town where he was born.”
Lillian blossomed with dramatic flair. “Until his world is invaded by the ever-beautiful, green-eyed temptress! Will he fall prey to his lusts and desires like every other man on this planet?”
Bronwyn couldn’t help but laugh.
“Oh this is good!” Bethany said.
“How will you end it?” Lillian asked
“Time will tell,” Bethany said.
“I hope it ends well.” Lillian’s mood turned serious. “Mavis is a sweet lady and there are children involved. They are real people, not make believe. It wouldn’t be right to destroy their lives.”
Bronwyn was touched by her thoughtfulness. “Lil’ honey, I’m not going to do anything. I don’t want anyone getting hurt. I wouldn’t intentionally inflict the pain I have been going through on anyone. Believe me. I need the story to end with Travis as the hero; I need to believe there are some decent men out there.”
Bronwyn crawled under the cotton sheets and pulled them over her. Bethany turned off the lamp as the three girls settled into bed. The night breeze blew the curtains back gently. The wooden chimes pealed softly below their window as a rocking chair creaked repeatedly, rhythmically.
It wasn’t the wind, however, that rocked the chair, but Mavis who sat on the porch below, rocking, hearing every word from the open window above.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“Bronwyn.”
The summons caused her to stir. She turned over to her side and gave way to her slumber, relaxing to the serenade of the frogs, crickets and the continual hoot of an owl. She had grown familiar with the quiet, peaceful sounds of the mountains that filled her room each night.
“Bronwyn.”
The gentle whisper of her name fell softly upon h
er ear.
Her eyes flew open. She glanced about the room. Bethany and Lillian were sound asleep, neither one having called her name.
The room was empty and quiet; only the hum from the rotating ceiling fan penetrated the silence. She lay still; listening, and then decided that perhaps she had been dreaming, so she closed her eyes.
“Bronwyn.”
This time there was no mistaking what she heard. It was the same voice that called to her the first night in Moonshine, the voice from the mournful song that beckoned her, into the forest, as it drifted through the trees whispering her name.
The heat began again, permeating upward. Pulling back the feather comforter, she climbed out of the bed, making her way to the open window, hoping the cool night breeze would cause the penetrating heat to subside. A dense fog hung in the air, obstructing her view of the inn’s grounds and nearby river. Although she could not see if anyone was outside her window, she heard a faint melody of a pan flute, accompanied by the woman’s enticing song. Wrapping her silk robe around her, she slipped out of the room, quietly creeping down the staircase, stealing her way outside. She stopped cold at the porch steps, wondering why she would venture out into the dark night alone, in search of the beckoning voice, especially since she knew there were disturbing secrets at play. She had a fleeting thought to go wake Bethany and have her accompany her, but decided against it when she heard the woman call again. This time there seemed to be urgency in her voice that empowered her with new found courage, so she abandoned the thought and entered the thick fog, then sprinted across the lawn. Reaching the edge of the river, she paused and listened. The woman’s haunting voice grew louder, and even though the woman sung in a language she had never heard, Bronwyn understood the words of the song explicitly. The lyrics brought overwhelming sorrow, consuming her as the fog began to swirl around her while other voices joined the unseen woman in song, all as equally haunting.
“Listen can you hear us?
Can you hear her?
Do you not recognize her call?
Awa is whispering,
Whispering that your deliverance is near.
The vexed voices of many have risen in song.
They inhabit the roar of the ocean;