Dark Water: A Siren Novel (17 page)

I waited for his eyes to find mine again. “Do you want to go?” I asked.

“To the hundred acres?”

I nodded and held my breath. There were countless reasons why he could say no—we didn’t know where exactly they were or how far away; it could just be some cheesy tourist trap; we should probably get back to Winter Harbor sooner rather than later so he could check in with Caleb and do some more sleuthing. And he took long enough to answer that any of these responses were real possibilities.

But instead, he popped another piece of pancake in his mouth, chewed, swallowed, and said, “We better hurry. If the land’s magical, who knows what that truck can do?”

I laughed. We jumped up, then stalled briefly when we took our wallets out at the same time.

“You get the next one,” he said.

My smile widened. “Deal.”

We waved and thanked our waitress, who did the same through one of the restaurant’s open windows, and ran to the Jeep. The driver had returned to the truck and was already pulling out onto the road. The pickup was no flying carpet; once we caught up, I had to brake repeatedly to avoid colliding with the trailer—and the horses’ you-know-whats, of which there were two. Simon and I spent the next twenty minutes joking and laughing, and I decided wherever we were going was indeed magical long before we got there.

It was beautiful, too, which we learned as we turned down a long gravel driveway and drove through rolling farmland. About a half mile down, the pickup pulled up to a large white barn. We went a little farther, joining a dozen or so parked cars in a dirt lot, and hopped out.

“Hi, there,” the driver said as we approached. “Welcome to Langden Farm. I’m Jack—one-third driver, two-thirds marketer.”

“Hi.” Simon shook Jack’s outstretched hand and looked around. “This is some place.”

“Indeed it is. Which is why I’m sorry to tell you that I’m late.”

I glanced at Simon. “For what?”

“For announcing the morning ride.” Jack shuffled along the side of the truck, wedged one boot between the top of the rear tire and its well, and stepped up. “There was a situation with the hitch and by the time it was fixed, the first one was already gone. I left the sign up in case folks wanted to join the afternoon ride, but that won’t leave for another six hours.” He took the sandwich board in both hands and lowered it till it lay flat in the truck bed. “Where are you from?”

“Winter Harbor,” Simon said. “It’s a small town on—”

“I know where it is.” He hopped down and faced us. “That was some summer you had last year.”

Simon nodded. I looked down.

“Yes, sir,” he said. “It was.”

“The wife and I took the grandkids skating on the water after it froze. It was eighty degrees when we left here and dropped to about forty by the time we got to your neck of the woods. Never seen anything like it.”

“And hopefully you won’t again,” Simon said.

“Got that right.” Jack nodded to me. “You bring a change of clothes?”

Their conversation had turned my face the same color as my
new linen skirt: bright red. Besides the skirt, I wore a white tank top, my denim jacket, and leather flip-flops. “No,” I said.

“Okay.” He opened the trailer and patted the horses’ haunches until the animals started backing up. “Rest here a minute. I’ll see if we can’t work something out.”

He led the horses into the barn. Simon leaned against the truck. I leaned next to Simon.

“It’s still strange to hear other people refer to it,” he said quietly. “I know most of the country knows at least some of what happened … but it still feels like this thing that only we experienced, you know?”

I did. But I didn’t want to talk about it. Fortunately, Jack wasn’t gone long enough for Simon to question my silence.

“How much riding time have you clocked?” he called out as he shuffled toward us.

“None,” I called back.

“About ten minutes around the pony pole at the 1998 Country Fair,” Simon said.

Jack chuckled. “All right. Then you have two options.” He stopped in front of us and pointed back at the barn. “We’ve got two horses ready to go, but with no experience, you can’t wander far without a guide—and the three we have are all out. I’d take you myself, but I have meetings all morning. That said, you’re more than welcome to ride through the main meadow. It’s flat, safe, and in full view of the house, so if you have any trouble, someone’s bound to see and come running.”

I peered past Jack to the meadow, which was more of a large
front yard. It was pretty enough, but it was also completely exposed to anyone coming, going, or passing through.

“What’s the other option?” Simon asked.

“Come back in six hours,” Jack said. “We’ll have two horses with your names on them.”

Simon looked at me. I shrugged. “The first might be nice,” I said.

“Okay.” Simon nodded. “We’re in.”

“Fantastic.” Jack chucked a cloth ball at me. “From the gift shop. On the house, if you want them.”

“Thank you.” I caught and unraveled the ball, which was actually a pair of khaki shorts with the Langden Farm logo—a herd of black horse silhouettes galloping under a starry sky—stamped on one pocket. “That’s so nice.”

“Least we can do for our neighbors.” He turned and started shuffling away. “Someone will bring you your rides shortly, and we’ll handle payment later. Enjoy!”

When he disappeared inside the barn, I faced Simon and held up the shorts.

“Be right back.”

I could’ve easily pulled on the shorts and slid off my skirt right there and not shown any extra skin, but changing was a good excuse to steal a few minutes alone. I grabbed my purse from the Jeep as I headed for the side of the barn. After making sure Simon was still by the truck and not paying attention, I swapped clothes and gulped the two bottles of salt water I’d stowed in my bag. I’d swum for two hours and drank so much
this morning, tiny droplets of water in my pores had made my skin glitter, and so far, I felt fine. But there was no telling how my body would react to being so close to Simon for an extended period of time, and some preemptive salt consumption was better than running dry in front of him.

“That’s some tank.”

I spun around. A young guy in jeans and a Langden Farm fleece came toward me with a shovel.

“Sorry?” I said.

He nodded to the empty water bottle I held. “You downed that whole thing without coming up for air once. I’m impressed.”

“Thanks.” I tried to smile as I walked backward. “Guess I was thirstier than I realized.”

“Are you lost? Can I help you with something?”

He was quickening his pace. I did the same—and stumbled back when my heel hit rock. I cried out when two hands grabbed my arms from behind and pulled me firmly to my feet.

“She’s good,” Simon said. “We’re good.”

I struggled to breathe normally. The guy stopped walking, his shovel slightly raised. A second later, he lowered the tool and began to retreat.

“No worries, man. I was just doing my job.”

We didn’t move until he disappeared around the back of the barn.

“Maybe we should leave,” Simon said.

I shoved the empty bottles in my purse and turned toward him. “No way. I’m fine—and I really do want to go riding.”

“That guy could’ve—”

“That guy was harmless. He wouldn’t have tried anything and even if he had, I could’ve handled him.”

I was less certain of this than I sounded, but Simon seemed somewhat reassured. He didn’t protest when I squeezed his hand and said, “Come on. Let’s go saddle up our unicorn or Pegasus or whichever mythical creature they call a horse around here.”

As it turned out, our transportation around the outskirts of Maine’s one hundred magical acres really were ordinary horses. Mine was a deep brown mare with a slight limp and a white diamond running down her snout. Simon’s was an older, gray stallion. Our trainer was a married, grandfatherly gentleman, who gave us a few pointers for stopping, starting, and steering, and demonstrated how to climb into the saddle.

I went first, stepping my left foot in the stirrup and gripping the reins to pull myself up. I was about to swing my right leg over when Simon gently took my hips in both hands. He tried to give me a boost, but his unexpected touch made me lose my breath—and my balance. I threw my other arm across the saddle, and used all my upper-body strength to pull the rest of me into position.

“Piece of cake.” I smiled and brushed the hair out of my eyes.

Simon patted my horse, as if asking her to be gentle with me, then went to his. It took him a few tries to get in the saddle, but it was hard to tell if that was because the horse was skittish … or because Simon was.

Once we were both steady on our steeds, we walked them up and down the driveway. The trainer, apparently satisfied with our newfound skills, permitted us in the main meadow and instructed us to stay within the fenced perimeter and keep the farmhouse in sight. We did as we were told … until I spotted a trail entrance in the far corner of the lawn.

“Where do you think it goes?” I whispered, like someone might be listening. “Cinderella’s castle? A mad tea party? Oz?”

“All of the above?” Simon guessed.

Seeing only the roof of the farmhouse, I turned my horse around and guided her back up the small hill. The home’s second story had just come into view when I tugged on the reins. The horse stopped.

“Something wrong?”

I turned back. Simon’s eyebrows were lowered, his hands tight on the reins. I smiled to reassure him, then gave the sides of my horse a quick dig with my heels. She started with a jolt toward the trail.

“Vanessa, where are you …? Jack said to …”

I held my breath as we passed him and entered the trail. Initially, I couldn’t hear anything but my horse’s hooves clomping against the packed dirt, but soon, a second, faster set sounded behind us.

I exhaled and gave the mare another gentle jab. She sped up, trotting between lush green hills that seemed to stretch on for miles. At first I bounced awkwardly—and painfully—in the saddle, but with some experimentation, I soon figured out how to lift and move to the horse’s rhythm. My heart raced as I listened
for more hooves, maybe even a car, coming up behind us, surrounding us, ordering us to hand over our steeds and leave the premises, but none did.

Ten minutes later, the trail entered a dense patch of trees. I pulled lightly on the reins, listened for Simon’s suggestion to turn back, head out. But like a disapproving Langden Farm staff member, it didn’t come. So we continued on.

It didn’t take long to learn how the hundred acres earned their magical status. The path narrowed as trees grew wider, taller. Thin rays of sunlight filtered through shifting branches, making the air glow and ground glitter. Flowers in shades of purple, red, and yellow flourished beneath the protective canopy. Butterflies flitted between petals. Birds called out, their songs soft, sweet. As we meandered, it felt like we were enveloped by this place rather than simply cutting through it.

Simon and I were quiet the entire time. When we came to an old, covered bridge, neither of us asked the other if we’d like to stop for a while. We just did, sliding off our horses, looping their reins around a tree trunk, and heading for the red wooden structure. We walked silently to the middle of the bridge, then leaned against one low wall. As we watched the stream flicker ten feet below, I was aware of only two things: the natural beauty all around us … and Simon’s arm brushing against mine.

Sometime later, he spoke.

“When’d you get so brave?”

My eyes raised from the water, locked on a tall, distant evergreen.

“You never would’ve done that before.” His voice was quiet, thoughtful.

“Done what?”

“Defied authority. Broken rules. I know Jack wasn’t exactly intimidating, but still. He told us where to stay … and yet here we are, a world away. The old Vanessa would’ve been too scared—not necessarily of getting in trouble, but of disappointing an adult—to come this far.”

The old Vanessa. Did that mean my attempts to convince him I was someone else, someone new and improved, were working?

As if to answer my question, Simon continued.

“There have been other things, too. Like the way you shrugged off that guy behind the barn. And the way you insisted on driving home alone the other night—”

“Which you didn’t allow,” I reminded him. “You followed me all the way to my driveway.”

“I know, and I would again. But that doesn’t mean you weren’t convincing. Before, you might not have come out and asked me to make sure you got home okay, but you wouldn’t have protested when I offered.”

I didn’t say anything. He was right.

“Even this,” he said, his voice softer. “You inviting me to hang out, especially when things between us are so … undefined. It’s new. Different.”

“The old Vanessa would’ve waited for you to come to her.”

“Yes. I think so.”

“Would you have?”

He laughed once, lightly. “See? That, too. You never would’ve asked that question.”

This was followed by a long pause as I waited for his answer.

“Um …” He stood straighter, rested his hands on the top of the wall. “Would I have come to you? As something other than a friend?”

His elbow bumped mine. My breath caught.

“I don’t think I would’ve had a choice.”

At which point the old—as in, week-ago—Vanessa would’ve immediately talked herself out of doing what the new Vanessa did next.

She kissed him.
I
kissed him. Without turning and waiting for him to turn to me, or stepping closer and hoping he did the same. I put one hand on his arm, pulled him just enough that I could fit in the small space between him and the bridge wall, reached up … and kissed him.

Maybe this was what Charlotte had meant on the beach when we talked. My body was acting on its own when my head would normally slow it down. Was this my power at work?

Either way, if I’d known what would follow this single act, I would’ve done it much sooner. Because everything, all of the hesitancy, questions, and reservations, disappeared. Nervousness was replaced with excitement, shyness with boldness. Our kisses, especially the first ones shared after not seeing one another for a few days, had always started softly. Delicately. Tenderly. Now we skipped ahead, our mouths moving and lips parting the way they had only in the midst of our most heated
make-out sessions. His hands were firm as they moved down my back and took my hips. I pressed the length of my body against his like I knew, without a hint of doubt, that’s what he wanted, that he wouldn’t pull away.