“Because of the trunk?”
He awkwardly pulled out his cell phone, turned on the flashlight, and shone it down the path to get his bearings. “No, not that.” He laughed again and put the phone back. “Or maybe yeah, a bit, even if it was necessary. No…I meant you’re right about everything you said before. I didn’t mean to yell at you like that, I’m just exhausted.” He glanced at me over his shoulder. His face was so close to mine. It was blurry, indistinct, and dark in the night, but his eyes were like reflective lights yet deep like the universe.
Suddenly, I thought of something Dad had once told me when I was a child. There are only two ultimate truths in life:Everything born dies. And everything changes.
Naturally, he was correct. Mom was born and died. So did my budgies Banana and Balou. I’ve grown and gotten older. I also traded in my pink bed with the crown on the headboard for a four-poster bed even though I swore at the age of eight that I would sleep in that bed until I was ninety. Even the New York skyline had changed since my early childhood and not only because of 9-11.
Everything was like a river in constant motion. Even now.
I suddenly felt strange, almost like an abducted princess carried off to a wild land by a pirate. And right now, during this tiny fraction of my life, I no longer knew what I truly wanted.
Nathan or Dad.
When I awoke, I was rocking gently as if in a cradle. The distant quacking of wild ducks penetrated my consciousness, but I remained still with my eyes closed, too tired and too agitated to become part of reality yet. The surface beneath me was hard. I had tried several times to turn over in my sleep, but it had been impossible due to the lack of space. I was on my back, legs drawn up, feet planted. Sunny warmth fell on my eyelids and something soft as a feather tickled my forehead. It felt like a makeup brush, which logically couldn’t be. Involuntarily, I opened my eyes and looked straight at a thick silver strand dangling over my face like a feathery vine. Spanish moss. Then I remembered. We were in Louisiana.
I abruptly bolted upright, a mistake because my jaw was throbbing as if it had been hit again and the boat that had been my bed was rocking.
I vaguely remembered arriving at Nathan’s secret hiding place, but we had sailed a little further in the boats until the men had to lie down for a few hours. I had slept squeezed betweentwo benches and in the back of the boat, Pan was snoring next to Sparta.
Goodness, he could easily saw through a bald cypress with it!
I looked around warily. The boat was next to a canoe with a small outboard motor. Troy and Icarus were sleeping in it, their feet casually resting on a bench. The boats were floating on a swampy body of water in the middle of the forest. For a few seconds, I felt like I was in my Southern room in New York. A strange magic flowed through my veins. Everything was strange but familiar. A dark army of ancient swamp cypresses towered over me, their bulbous trunks gray and scaly like giant elephant legs stuck in the swamp. It was impossible to say if the area was merely flooded by the river or if it was the Atchafalaya itself.
I peered curiously into the crowns of the cypresses. There, thousands of silvery Spanish moss webs hung as if giant prehistoric butterflies had made their cocoons. In between, the morning light trickled through the treetops and bathed everything in a silver-green light.
“You like it, I was right.”
“Nathan?” I searched the area and spotted him not far from the boat. He was sitting on a gigantic tree stump that protruded a good distance out of the water. In this environment, Nathan McCormack seemed surreal. His dark clothes blended in with the tree trunks and the dark green water, and his beaten face glowed unnaturally bright as if it were covered in a silver glaze.
“Who did that?” I asked, pointing to his swollen cheekbone. We had barely spoken about Isaac and the attack during the hectic and tense escape.
Nathan merely shrugged. “I don’t know, it happened incredibly quick. I think Miller rammed the gun butt against my face.” He grinned sheepishly but then became serious again. “You took quite a beating too.” He tapped a spot under his eye.“You’re potash blue there…but it goes well with your pretty eyes, so don’t worry.” He smiled and this time it lasted.
A warm feeling flooded my stomach.
“Are you hungry today or are you still upset about the trunk?”
“I’m starving,” I confessed and immediately felt the huge hole in my stomach. “Besides, I’m only a little upset.”
“That’s good.” Nathan pointed to the boat I was sitting in. “There’s a backpack in the boat. We grabbed the stuff yesterday. It’s not much, but it’s enough to start.”
“Grabbed? Spontaneous transfer of ownership, then.”
“Yes, you mind?”
“Not at all. At least, not under these circumstances.” I looked around, spotted the dark blue backpack, and rummaged through it greedily.
“You can eat the sandwiches. No nuts, no eggs.” I glanced up and Nathan winked. He seemed so different, perhaps because the others were asleep. That way, he didn’t have to be careful about how he treated me and I was afraid that there would only be more conflict if the men found out what was going on between us. If there was anything at all. And even if there was, it wouldn’t be as fatal as on the Agamemnon, but it would complicate everything.
I ate the sandwich in silence, listened to the birds chirping, and marveled at the mysterious nature. I felt something inside me, something hidden in the depths that had to do with my past. It seemed as if the surroundings were an image or symbol of it.
“You like it here,” Nathan stated again and I remembered that I hadn’t answered him earlier.
“Yes.” A few yards away, I spotted a great egret wading in the water, occasionally dipping its beak into the swamp. “But I don’t want to stay here for a whole year. I want to go to my dad. There are so many questions I need to ask him.”
He nodded. “I understand that, but there’s no other way. You know why. Besides, I’m afraid you’re not safe from Isaac even in New York. We also have to wait and see how your father reacts to Isaac’s pictures.”
“Isaac’s pictures?” Shocked, I swallowed the last bite and was barely able to get the next words out. “You still want to work with him…after everything he’s done…”
