Dead River - By Cyn Balog Page 0,75
you, and he couldn’t stand to have it happen to you, too. But what he doesn’t know is that it saved me. Coming here, I knew I could still be with you. You can see visions of us on the river, right?”
“Yes, but—” Suddenly I understand what she’s saying. I cover my mouth with my hand. “You mean …”
“But your father took you away. Now, I don’t blame him, but I wished every day that he hadn’t, and that you would come back to me. What I’m saying is that you don’t have to be alone. If you come to the river, I will find a way to see you.”
Tears spring to my eyes. She puts her hands on my shoulders and leans in to kiss my forehead.
She puts a hand on my forehead, like she used to do to check whether I had a fever. Her skin is clammy and cold, everything I remember. But suddenly I am feeling feverish and dizzy and breathless all at once. The edges of my sight blur and soon all the colors are swirling together, like some child’s finger painting. Then everything dims to a murky black, and all I can feel and hear is the beating of my heart.
Maybe it’s only seconds later that I spring upright, still feeling dizzy as things settle around me. I’m in the boat again. Trey is rowing, his back to me. Black water, topped with yellow foam, is swirling around us. The sky is thick with clouds, as if a storm is threatening. I feel different, but it’s a familiar difference. My heart flutters in my chest. I lift the folds of my jacket and check my stomach. No wound. I know what this is. This is life.
“I’m alive again?” I ask softly.
Trey doesn’t stop rowing.
“Where are we going?”
“Where do you think? I’m rowing you ashore, and you got to get to your daddy and get away from here.” He turns and gives me a hard stare. “Got it?”
“Yes,” I say. “But what about—”
“None of that,” he groans. “You need to get. Don’t worry about the rest.”
“But what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to get back to your mom and give her my shine. That’ll restore some of her power. Otherwise she won’t be strong enough to stop Lannie.”
“But … Oh.” Somehow this tugs at my heart in ways I didn’t think existed. I can’t help but ask, “But then you … I’m never going to see you again, right?”
He rolls his eyes at me. “I told you, quit worrying. There ain’t nothing you can do. This is the way it needs to be. You go on back to that boyfriend of yours.”
“He’s not, anymore,” I mumble. “It’s a long story.”
He pulls the boat ashore and stands, hands on hips, waiting for me. I sit there, stunned. Why do I get to live while everyone else suffers? It seems so unfair. I’m about to tell him this when he speaks.
“You ain’t getting any more alive. Now get.”
I climb out of the boat, feeling strange on my feet, like every step is unsure and my ankles might give out at any moment. I’m cold again, so I wrap my arms around my body. “Thank you,” I say softly, feeling like I should say more, do more. So that is why I open my arms and reach them around him, pulling him into a hug.
After a moment, his body relaxes, and I feel his arms around me, too. It feels nice. I know he needs to be going, but I don’t want to let go. I press the side of my face against his chest, and he must be reading my mind because he says, “Aw, Kiandra, don’t you worry.”
I tilt my head back and he’s looking down at me, trying to smile, but I can see the heaviness in his eyes. So I push myself up on the tips of my toes and press my lips against his. Mine are cold and his are so blazing hot, but it’s not his warmth that makes me cling to him. It’s something else. Maybe it’s that in all my time with Justin I never felt this complete bliss, his body making me feel whole. Trey holds me closer, his lips on mine, and soon everything else is forgotten and we’re lost in each other. Finally, breathless, I pull away from his mouth, and he nibbles along my jaw until he finds my earlobe. “Kiandra,” he whispers, and then