Our Song

by Fraiberg, Jordanna

  “Looks can be deceiving. He’s actually been in deep mourning ever since his mate died. He just swims around the pond like this for hours looking for her.”

  “Can’t you get him a new partner?”

  “He’s too smart for that,” Nick said, shaking his head. “They’re monogamous for life, swans.”

  “How long has it been? Since she died?”

  “Ten years.”

  “That’s so sad,” I said, picturing the swan swimming here like this while life went on around him.

  “It’s not just sad. It’s tragic.”

  Nick shifted his gaze away from the swan and fixed it on me. Lifting the camera from my neck, he gently set it down on the dock. My knees buckled as he reached out and took hold of my hand. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something. My heart started pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it.

  “What?” I whispered, feeling shy and exposed under the intensity of his gaze.

  But instead of answering he came even closer. This is it, I thought as he squeezed my palm. It’s happening. He’s going to kiss me. I closed my eyes and could practically feel myself levitating above my own body when suddenly, without warning, Nick jumped into the pond, pulling me in with him. Still gripping my hand, we sank down, squinting at each other through the silty layers of emerald water. When our feet hit the soft, cushioned bottom, we sprang back up amid a cloud of powdery residue, like we were free-falling through space. I wondered if I had somehow dreamt this moment before, because there was something so familiar about the sensation of being carried along, weightless, just like the oxygen bubbles all around us. Spears of amber light sprouted out from Nick’s body and his skin glowed luminescent, as if he were standing on top of the sun. He looked so peaceful, like he was lit from within.

  The only way for this to pass is to let go of your love…I see into your mind…Your voice is like an angel I can hear without sound.

  The lyrics swam around inside my head, echoing through the underwater silence. His voice was as clear and hopeful as I’d ever heard it.

  Nick stared into my eyes. Then, he mouthed two words: I’m sorry.

  I didn’t need sound to understand what he was saying. But what was he apologizing for? For yanking me in? I was about to respond, to ask him why, but before my lips could form the word we were bursting through the boggy surface and I was gasping for air instead.

  CHAPTER 23

  “RACE YOU BACK.”

  Before I could object, Nick had already taken off up the hill and disappeared through the arched doorway. The handle was still wet from where he touched it as I followed him through. I ran across the meadow, struggling to catch up, pond water still pooled in my squeaking shoes, swishing between my toes. The warm air smelled sweet as it blew over my damp skin, fanning my drenched dress behind me like a wet sail.

  “No fair!” I called out as Nick made a sudden left by the maze toward the forest on the other side. “You know the short cuts!”

  He slowed his pace to a light backward jog so he was now facing me. He looked so sexy with his soaking wet T-shirt and jeans clinging to his lean, muscled body. “Then I suggest you don’t fall behind.”

  When we got to the end of the meadow, he began darting in and out of the trees. Each time he disappeared for longer, deeper into the forest.

  The branches blocked out most of the remaining sun. When I looked up, I spotted the moon rising through a space between the trees. It was still faint and tissue-thin, like it hadn’t yet decided how much of itself to reveal.

  Nick was a steady distance ahead but kept looking back over his shoulder to make sure I was still within sight.

  Without slowing down, I reached the camera up into the air, high above my head, and began snapping. I hoped the pictures would turn out blurry, that they’d be able to capture how I felt at that exact moment: Free. Happy. Alive.

  The forest began to thin out and soon we were back to running on the dried out, overgrown grass, the imposing stone house now visible ahead. I had almost forgotten it was there, that the property belonged to people, not just the creatures that ran rampant on it. I pumped my legs harder and finally caught up to Nick. We ran the last stretch together, our arms and legs swinging in unison, until Nick elbowed me out of the way to go barreling first through the side door.

  “I win,” he declared just as I came crashing in after him. We were in some kind of mud room, a space for rubber boots and gardening tools and various things dragged in from the outside.

  “If I knew cheating was allowed, I would have tripped you a lot sooner,” I said between gasping breaths of air.

  “Would you have, now?” The lopsided grin was back. It bordered on a real smile, but not one big enough to make his missing dimple reappear. “Then don’t let me stop you.”

  He took off up the back staircase, the floorboards creaking under his weight. I gave chase, taking the steps two at a time. My laughter bounced with my fast movement, echoing up the stairwell like a case of the hiccups. I couldn’t remember the last time I had laughed like this, so hard I could feel it in my ribs. It reminded me of all the painful bruises I used to have there, and how they had since healed. It gave me hope that maybe everything healed eventually.

  There was a sudden crashing noise, followed by what sounded like a small avalanche. Nick’s shuffling feet came to a standstill. I was just about to call up to see if he was okay when I heard the high-pitched tone of a woman’s voice. I froze in my tracks. Even though I had stopped, my heart raced like it expected me to keep moving. Was it his mother? I strained to make out what she was saying when Nick started talking. His voice was hoarse, like he hadn’t spoken in a while.

  Hugging the wall, I inched forward one step at a time until I reached the landing. An empty cardboard box and various items lay scattered at my feet. They formed a trail all the way up to the top, where Nick was standing in front of an elegant-looking older woman in a long, flowing black skirt, her white hair swooped up in a bun.

  I glanced at Nick. There was no hint of the grin or the playfulness from just a minute earlier. I was about to sneak back down the stairs and wait for him at the bottom when the woman spotted me.

  “I didn’t realize you had a guest,” she said, assessing me and my soaking wet clothes from head to toe. She also had an English accent, only hers was even stronger than Nick’s, like she was related to the Queen.

  I stiffened and felt my cheeks burn, suddenly ashamed for being caught here alone with him. We might as well have been naked. Nick’s eyes were fixed on the mix of things strewn across the landing—books, an old set of scratched, wooden ping pong rackets, a burgundy wool cardigan and a stack of letters, loosely held together with a string. From that angle, I could only make out the first three letters of the name on the envelope: Sam…

  “This is Olive,” Nick said, his voice now distant. “And this is Lady Beatrice Agnes Wilkins.” He gestured toward the woman. “My aunt.”

  “I’m delighted to meet you, Olive. Nick knows I hate that silly title, so please call me Aunt Bea.” She descended the stairs as she spoke, stopping on the landing next to me. After gently shaking my hand, she began collecting the fallen items from the box. “Please do forgive me for this horrible mess!”

  “Here, let me help you,” I said, my body relaxing. This was not how I wanted to make my first impression with any member of Nick’s family, but at least she was being kind. Up close, she wasn’t as intimidating as her accent made her seem.

  “No.” Nick’s voice was so loud and firm it startled me, and I could practically see the door closing between us.

  Aunt Bea looked pointedly at Nick, then turned back to me and said, “Thank you, dear, but what you need is to get out of those clothes before you catch cold.”

  “I’m okay, they’re almost dry.” Gripping the banister, I slowly backed down a step. “It’s getting late. I should probably be going, anyway.”

  “Come on,” Nick said, his voice softer now. “Aunt Bea’s r
ight. At least let me give you something to change into.”

  I looked toward the door—it was already getting dark and I didn’t know my way home—then back up at Nick. He swiped the hair out of his face so I could see his eyes clearly.

  “Okay,” I finally said, releasing my hold from the railing. Gingerly stepping over the fallen debris, I started back up the stairs.

  • • •

  There was a light tap on the door. “Are you decent?”

  “Just about,” I said, slipping the shirt over my head. I was in the library, one of the rooms we had passed on the second floor hallway earlier. I felt my face flush before he even walked through the door. Even though I was covered head to toe in a pair of light blue drawstring pajamas and a white T-shirt, wearing Nick’s clothes somehow made me feel naked. They smelled just like him, as if he was already right next to me. It was completely different from Derek’s scent, muskier and more natural. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  Nick came in carrying a sterling silver tray containing a teapot, creamer, and sugar bowl in a matching pattern. He had also changed out of his wet clothes and was now wearing a pair of navy and white Adidas track pants and a faded red T-shirt. He wasn’t any less clothed than usual, but he seemed stripped down, almost as if he’d taken off a mask I wasn’t even aware he’d been wearing. “Cup of tea?”

  “That sounds great,” I said, rubbing my arms. They were still cold.

  He set the tray down on the coffee table. “Milk and sugar?”

  “Just plain.”

  “That’s not really a proper cup of tea, you know. But I’ll let it slide.” He prepared two mugs and sat down on the Persian rug facing the empty fireplace.

  I sat down next to him. The cup felt warm between my hands, but I still had a chill running through me, even more so now.

  He reached back toward the couch and yanked off a few cushions for us to lean on. The volumes of leather-bound books surrounding us felt cozy. “It’s a good look on you, men’s PJ’s.”

  “Maybe I’ll start a new trend.” I was getting better at detecting his sarcasm, even with his accent. “I’m sure it will spread like wildfire in Vista Valley.”

  “Hey, you never know. Then again, you’d look good in anything.”

  A flurry of goose bumps broke out across my skin. I hugged my knees into my chest.

  “Still cold? Here, let me start a fire.” He was already pulling logs out of a secret compartment in the wall.

  “You don’t have to do that. It’s like a million degrees out.”

  “Who cares if it’s two million degrees, not that you’re prone to exaggeration,” he said, strategically stacking the wood in the fireplace in a crisscross pattern. “You’re covered in gooseflesh.”

  “Gooseflesh?” I said, giggling. “Is that what you just said?” Once I started laughing I couldn’t stop. I had to put my cup down so it wouldn’t spill.

  “All right, missy, what do you call all those bumps on your arms?”

  “Exactly, that’s what they are, bumps! Goose BUMPS!”

  He laughed. “See, that’s the problem growing up in two countries. I can never remember which term to use where.”

  “Okay, let’s find another one.” I was still giggling. “Oh I know, what do you call the bathroom again in England?”

  “The loo.” He was crouching down, lighting some crumpled newspaper.

  “The looooooo?” I said, doing my best attempt at an English accent.

  “It sounds a hell of a lot more dignified than toilet, don’t you think?” He got the fire going and sat back down on the carpet next to me. “I guess I’ll just have to accept my fate as a perpetual outsider.” He was joking, but something snagged in his voice.

  “Why did you go to school in England when your family lives here? It seems so far away.”

  “It is. But when every male predecessor in the Wilkins clan has gone to Eton before you, you aren’t given much choice in the matter.” The first log caught fire, sending a crackling flame up the chimney chute. “History decided for me.”

  One question only opened the door for the next. There were so many more things I wanted to ask him. “Does your aunt live here?”

  “No.” Nick took a sip of his drink and stared into the fire. “She’s just visiting.”

  “Where are your parents?”

  “Back in England.”

  I sensed him opening up so I decided to go further. “For how long?”

  He shrugged. “They don’t like spending much time here.”

  Maybe that explained why the place was in such disarray. “Do you?”

  He looked up at me, like he was startled by the question. Had I gone too far? He put his mug down and leaned back into the pillow. “I don’t have a choice.”

  It’s not what I expected him to say. Of all the people I’d ever met, Nick was the only one who truly seemed to control his destiny. It’s one of the things I liked most about him. But if he didn’t have a choice, maybe none of us did. Maybe we were all trapped. Just like my dad was all those years ago. Like he still seemed to be.

  The fire was really going now. We sat, silently staring at the rising flames when the same buzzing sound from the maze returned.

  “Is that another cicada?” I asked.

  Nick stretched his neck out as if he were opening up his ears. “It is.”

  I gazed toward the nearest window as we listened to the pleasant noise. It oscillated between a hum and a full-on melody. I spotted the moon glowing brighter now against the dark sky. “It sounds like it’s coming from inside.”

  “They throw off sound so it’s impossible to pin them down. They’re deceptive that way.”

  He got up to fan the flames with a leather pump that looked like a bagpipe. The gentle breeze caused my dress and jean jacket to sway on the iron grate in front of the fireplace where I’d hung them to dry.

  I hoped they never would.

  “They also cast off their skin, you know.” He was back on the pillows next to me. “It’s called molting. Sometimes you can spot the skins lying around. They look like dead bugs, but if you look closer you can see they’re just empty shells. Kind of like external skeletons.”

  “Did you major in birds and insects or something at boarding school?”

  “Hardly,” Nick laughed. “I’m just a master of useless knowledge. Didn’t make me too popular growing up.” He touched his nose. “I have this lovely bump to prove it.”

  “It’s not useless knowledge,” I protested, “I like it.” The last log caught fire. I could feel the heat rolling toward us. “Maybe we’re like the cicadas.”

  Nick jerked his head up. “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, uncertain where my thought was leading me. “Like when we die, we shed our skin too and, I don’t know, move on to become something else.” I paused, nervous that I was losing him, that I was beginning to sound like the crazy people in the meetings.

  “Go on.” His voice was soft and expectant, as if I had the answer.

  “It’s just that, do you ever wonder what if things happened differently? Like, what if we actually died and there was nothing near about it? What if we weren’t supposed to come back?”

  I’d avoided thinking of my accident and the events leading up to it for so long that I’d barely thought about what would have happened if it had all really ended that night.

  He was quiet for a second. “All the time.”

  “Then sometimes I think we must have survived for a reason. But what are we supposed to do with that?”

  “Nothing.” He was so matter-of-fact, so certain.

  “Don’t you ever think we were given a second chance?”

  “No.” He said it with such finality, with no room for error or discussion.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t deserve one.”

  Memories from that night pressed up against the melody swimming around my head. Running out Derek’s front door. Into his car. Driving off into
the rain. The rest was still a blur. But no matter how many wrong turns I may have taken, they led me here. To Nick. That had to mean something.

  “I think you’re wrong.” I watched the flames dance up the chimney, blackening the red brick chute. “I think we all do.”

  I reached into my bag for my music. I selected the first title on what was now a lengthy playlist. I put one bud in Nick’s ear, the other in mine, then lay back down and pressed play.

  • • •

  The room was completely dark when I opened my eyes. It took a second to get my bearings—and to notice Nick’s arm draped over my shoulder. It felt so natural, like he was an extension of me. We were still leaning against the couch, my legs still crossed in the same position, the earbud cord still suspended between us like a shared artery, even though the music had stopped. The fire had long burned down and the logs were now reduced to a pile of glowing embers. How long had we been asleep like this?

  When I wake I see your face

  Even through the fog that leaves no trace

  I will hear you long after you’re gone

  Mingled with the earth your heart beats on

  Another rash of goose bumps erupted across my whole body as the new lyrics spun around my head. The words accompanied a new playful twist in the melody, like they were dancing around each other in a flirtatious game. It made me think of running after Nick in the woods, how it was his face I saw when I heard the song, his heartbeat that I carried inside my own.

  The voice was so loud it almost felt like it would wake Nick, but when I glanced over, he was still asleep, his chest heaving gently up and down with each breath. He looked so peaceful, his face so relaxed, like a sleeping baby. Even though we both had all our clothes on, it felt like a lot more had happened than just falling asleep. It was as if a tight-knit cocoon had been woven around us. But the cocoon didn’t just insulate us from the rest of the world; it also formed a new one, a world that belonged only to me and him.

  Just then, Nick’s eyes sprung open and locked on mine. He didn’t seem the least bit surprised by my presence, and I didn’t feel a rush of embarrassment or the urge to look away, like I used to with Derek. We just stared at each other and it felt like my heart might explode. I never dreamt it was even possible to feel this connected to another person.