Savior (5 page)

He stopped the motor, instantly slowing the boat, and shifted in his seat to face me. The words that came from him then were no less surprising than his behavior. “Are you drawn to me, Jocelyn?”

It was such a brazen question that I paused.

“Are you drawn to me?” he repeated, insisting on an answer.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Do you still look for me when you think I’m close by?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have a pain in your chest that won’t leave?”

“Yes,” I breathed, wondering how he knew that.

He released a deep sigh, one that seemed to have been pent up for a very long time, and dropped his head. When he raised his eyes to me, there was a smirk behind them, an unfaltering confidence that made my breath go still.

“That is because you are in love with me, Jocelyn.” His revelation was so direct that my chest caved from the pressure. “And it’s the real thing. It’s not the fulfillment of some fated prophecy. It’s genuine…it’s authentic.”

He stopped then, patiently waiting for my response. After his words sunk in, I could only manage to nod. My body had become immobile, my muscles tensing to the point they hurt.

“That’s going to make it very difficult for the two of us to be around each other. And I can guarantee we’ll be here for the rest of summer…maybe into the fall…if we can’t figure a way out of this mess. Because we’ve shown a chink in The Sevens' armor now. We showed those people at Reception that The Sevens aren’t undefeatable. And those who escaped will bring the message, the truth, back to their provinces. But The Sevens will try to reclaim their power and they’ll do it violently and visibly. And that leaves everyone…everyone in jeopardy. Most of all…you.”

Vaguely, I became aware of what he was doing. He had come to these conclusions earlier and was now under the impression that I hadn’t. He was trying to help me, once again.

He ran his fingers through his hair while catching his breath and then continued on. “So where does that leave us?” he asked, though it sounded more like a lead-in, and it was. “It leaves us loving each other. Embracing it without shame. But you won’t allow for that. So, go ahead, stare at me. If that’s what you need to do, stare.” He turned back to the motor and just before pulling the cord, muttered, “…because that’s what I’ll be doing with you.”

I wanted to respond. The urge was there, and it was strong. I wanted to tell him the truth, how I felt about our situation now, because it had changed, from the very moment I stood in front of The Sevens. But I couldn’t formulate the words. They were scattered, fragments floating in and out of my mind, drifting aimlessly like leaves on a pond. I tried, really tried, until frustration gradually absorbed me and it was all I felt.

He started the engine and was turned the nose of the boat back on course. That left the impression that he wasn’t open to hearing what I had to say. It seemed that he needed time, which clearly was something that would benefit me, too.

At breakfast, he sat on the opposite side of the room, brooding. I did my best to listen to the discussion on how The Sevens might retaliate, but only one comment caught my attention.

Miss Mabelle, who meandered around the room serving and picking up bowls, muttered under her breath, “They’s definitely comin’ fer ya. Prophesy’s started. Started when ya went ta face ‘em. No stoppin’ it now….”

Her words caused Jameson and me to lift our heads, finding Miss Mabelle wandering away after her unsolicited comments. Our eyes met when our line of sight crossed, and in that instant, a spark of energy coursed between us as if we were connected by a wire and someone had electrified it.

Not to be outdone or forgotten, my mind reverted back to Jameson’s monologue in the boat. He had admitted he would be staring at me, which drilled home the fact his feelings hadn’t changed.

The tension between him and I didn’t go unnoticed, unfortunately. Midway through our meal, Estelle exhaled loudly and said, “Whew, is anyone feeling that? I mean…even with the cast over this place, I can still…ewww….”

Being directly in tune with the elements gave her a heightened sense of her environment, including the emotions in the air. I should have figured she’d pick up on it.

Jameson, sitting in the corner, dipped his head toward his bowl, oblivious to the fact that we were about to be called out.

“You feel that, too?” asked Oscar, who shared the same gift. Lifting his large frame, he sat up, giving the impression he wasn’t going to drop the conversation anytime soon.

“I don’t feel anything,” I said.

“I do,” added Dillon. Being the youngest of the Caldwells, he was still developing his ability, but apparently the tension in the air was potent enough for even him to perceive it.

Vinnia, always the insightful one, snickered at me. “You don’t feel it, because
you
are the one emitting it. You…" she tipped her head toward me, “…and you.” She finished with a jerk of her chin in Jameson's direction.

He barely looked at her before returning his attention to his breakfast.

“What’s going on between you two?” asked Nolan, who wasn’t born with a sensitive side. Alison didn’t help by immediately agreeing.

“Nolan, leave it alone, dear,” cautioned Aunt Lizzy. She’d been talking rapidly from her chair near the door, as was typical, and clearly giving Mrs. Caldwell a headache, but she paused long enough to mediate our conversation. She was back to rambling a second later.

“Yeah, let’s talk about something that affects all of us,” said Charlotte in her typically vain fashion. “Can anyone even identify what we’re eating?”

“Fish porridge,” grumbled Jameson, who was the only one with enough knowledge of the village’s culinary selections to answer.

Grimacing, she set her bowl aside. “And what are we going to do about these squalid living conditions? Do you know I found a slug on my windowsill this morning…a
slug!
I know…disgusting….”

“
Horrible
, isn’t it?” said Burke, clearly mocking her and receiving a kick to the shin for it.

“I have extra curtains,” offered Estelle, our resident designer, who was already attempting to make our shacks more livable. She was always eager to share, although not everyone was enthusiastic in accepting her kindness. Charlotte was no different.

Her lips curled; she was flagrantly disgusted at the idea. “They’re purple,” she muttered flatly, effectively ending the conversation there.

Fearing that the subject might return to Jameson and me, I stole a hurried look at him, and true to his word, he was watching me from beneath strands of hair falling over his eyebrows.

As soon as our eyes met, we both looked away and stood up to leave the shack. He purposefully, although without mention, left his boat for me while he went on to hurdle the docks toward the center of the village. Quietly thankful for it, I went in search of Theleo, who wasn’t far, and asked him to show me the perimeter.

At some point throughout the day, I caught sight of Miss Mabelle and Miss Celia leaving the bayou for our homes, intending on securing them as best they could until our return. I also saw Estelle hanging curtains, Charlotte flirting with a boy, Alison surveying the village, and Jameson’s brothers fishing. But I didn’t see Jameson. He didn’t even make it to dinner, apparently opting to visit Isadora instead.

At that point, I got the distinct feeling he was avoiding me, and it stung. So, long after the sun set and the lanterns on everyone’s shacks were extinguished, I slipped on my black cloak and pulled the hood over my head and left my shack. If he was nearby, Theleo didn’t show himself as I crept to the edge of my dock.

The only light now came from the fireflies making their way through the swamp, their mirror images reflecting mystically off the glassy surface of the water. How easy it was for them, it seemed. Fly, light up your behind, wiggle it around, and select a mate. I envied them. My mate, whether destined or chosen, slept less than twenty feet away and knew nothing about how I felt about him or our situation.

But I was going to tell him. Right now.

That's why I remained perched on the edge of my dock waiting to jump across to his side. Then his voice came through the darkness.

“What are you doing?” It wasn’t callous or irritated; instead, he sounded curious, which threw me off guard.

Regaining my composure, I stretched out my neck as if that would help, and asked, “Where are you?”

“Right here,” he said, strolling out from beneath the eaves of his roof and into the moonlight. He was still dressed as he had been in the morning and, still, naively seductive. The jeans he was wearing hung a little lower from his chiseled waist, and his shirt was wrinkled and draped over his waistband. Obviously, he had been busy today also.

“Why are you awake?”

“I could ask you the same,” he ventured.

I hesitated, knowing my response would sound ridiculous, for some reason. But there was no getting away from the truth now. “I-I was coming to see you.”

Surprised and genuinely interested, he asked, “Why?”

Reverting back to my line of questioning, I asked, “What are you doing awake?”

He suppressed a grin at my obstinacy before saying, “I was thinking about coming to see you.”

“Ironic…,” I mused.

“Is it?” he asked, allowing a sly smirk to break through.

He reached out his hand to offer me assistance across the water, and I took it. The warmth of his fingers left me longing to hold on even after I landed safely on his dock, but he unwound them.

We stood there in silence for what seemed like a long time, our eyes locked on each other, not daring, but waiting for the other to speak first.

“Should we go inside?” he suggested.

I nodded slowly in agreement, unsure of where this would lead.

He closed the door behind us, blocking off what little illumination the moonlight had been providing. I turned toward him, letting the hood slip from my head.

Silence filled the room and I found that I was more conscious of his presence nearby than I had ever been before. The smell of his skin – a woodsy scent – permeated the air, while the way he rolled from toe to heel and back again captivated me.

Trying to distract myself, I moved to the lantern that had been placed next to the door, intending to ignite it.

“Do we really want to answer to our families tomorrow as to why we were up late at night?” There was rigidity in his tone, a lack of emotion that disturbed me.

Good point, I thought, and set the lantern back on the floorboards.

“Are you-Are you mad…at me? Is that why you were coming to talk?”

He became motionless. “No….” he hesitated. “No, that’s not the reason.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, even though he remained planted by the door.

“Then what is the reason?”

He lowered his gaze to the floor, but only fleetingly. His eyes were back on me the next second, burning with intensity. “I wanted to apologize. I shouldn’t have said all that on the way to breakfast this morning. I should have….” Again, his eyes drifted and he shook his head.

“Jameson,” I whispered, a lump in my throat keeping me from speaking any louder. I cleared it and continued. He needed to hear what I was about to say clearly. “I understand The Sevens…the way they work, they think, their motives. Everything you said in the boat was true. But what I didn’t get a chance to say…is that I also understand how they control us. They do it through fear.
Fear
, Jameson.”

His head was shaking back and forth again. “I wasn’t talking about our enemies. I was talking about pressuring you to confess how you feel-”

“I know,” I cut him off, determined to say what I needed. “I’m getting to that….” I paused to take a deep breath and steady the flutter of emotions running through me. “Fear is what drives them, Jameson. Fear is what they have tried to instill in me, in all of us. And when they assessed me as I stood in front of them during Reception, when they didn’t react or respond to my demands for my mother, they took time to judge me, to appraise me. They didn’t kill me right then, even though they know how dangerous I can be. They did it because they were learning something…that they had failed.” Without any effort on my part, a smile surfaced on my lips. “They saw in me something I hadn’t even recognized in myself. I’m not scared of them. And it is all for one simple reason…because I’m willing to give up my life to protect the ones I love.”

“Yes, I’ve known that, but I don’t like when you talk about-”

“You’re not hearing me,” I said, abruptly. “I am in love with you.
With you, Jameson.
”

He didn’t respond immediately, and I could see him processing what I’d just said. He lowered his eyebrows before questioning me, “And the prophecy?”

The last private conversation I had with Jameson surfaced and I remembered what he’d said to me. “You told me that you’d wear me down and show me there was nothing to fear; you’d prove me wrong about the prophecy. But what I didn’t realize is that you already had. The issue isn’t the prophecy; it never has been. The issue is me.” I stopped to draw in a wavering breath, continuing to work on controlling the emotions surging through me. “What I’m saying, in not the most concise way, is that I’m not afraid anymore of being together…with you…Jameson.”

Exhaling, I released the tension our argument had created in me, in a rush. It seemed to fill the room. “That’s it…that's the reason I was staring at you in the boat this morning.”

I carefully evaluated him, waiting to see what kind of reaction he might have to all I’d just confessed. “After what I’ve put you through…” My throat threatened to close, but I swallowed hard and refused to give in. “Do you-Can you still love me?” There it was, out in the open, and now I was far more vulnerable than I ever had been.

His focus settled on the floorboards and he showed what I thought was offense. Then he leveled his eyes at me and began to speak. “What kind of question is that? I’ve done everything you’ve asked. I stayed away from you, didn’t talk to you, tried not to think about you, tried not to show how I feel about you. Now you’re standing there, and you’re asking if I can still love you?” He snorted and once again began shaking his head in amazement at me. “Jocelyn, what makes you think I ever stopped?”