Fables & Other Lies - Claire Contreras Page 0,34
but the sky was mostly clear, which was unexpected. I looked out into the distance, fully expecting to see some sign of water, but there was none of that either. It was as though it had disappeared completely. I couldn’t help it, I walked down the steps quickly and onto the lawn. The grass was impossibly green, not covered in dark sand as I’d expected it to be. I looked at the tree I’d seen last night and saw that it had green leaves covering every branch.
“Impossible.” I walked over to the tree and stared.
“Isn’t that what life is? A series of impossibilities.” River walked up beside me. I shook my head, mouth hanging open, and looked up at him.
“But how?”
“They call it the Tree of Life.” He tucked his hands into his pockets. “Some say it can cure anything. Others say it can curse anything. I guess like all sources of power, it depends on how you use it.”
“Do you believe that?” I looked between him and the tree before settling on him.
“I’ve seen it work.”
“Why not use the leaves to heal your father then? Didn’t you say he’s ill?”
“You assume he wants to be healed.”
I frowned. “Wouldn’t anyone who’s ill want to be healed?”
“My father has lived a long, fulfilling life. He’s been ready to transcend for quite some time.”
“But . . . in theory, if he were to eat some leaves or drink a tea or whatever, he’d live longer?”
“If he wants to.”
“What do you mean if he wants to?”
“If he drinks a tea with the leaves he would probably just forget the pain he’s in. It wouldn’t prolong his impending death.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not what he wants. Not really anyway.” He brought his hands out of his pockets, running his fingers through his hair with one. “People think they know what they want, but they don’t. It’s been proven time and time again. A poor person prays for a fortune, gets said fortune, and remains unhappy.” He shrugged. “Humans are the same across the board. Always unhappy. Always searching for more. Never satisfied with what they have.”
“And then we die,” I said.
“And then they die.” He smiled.
“I didn’t even know witches could die.” I glanced back at the house. It was beautiful, despite its darkness.
“Who says they can?”
“Is your father a witch?”
River chuckled. “Was yours?”
I pursed my lips at that. Touché. He laughed louder, that real, unfiltered laugh I witnessed last night. It truly was a beautiful sound. The fog lifted a little more, the clouds opening up just so, just a bit, so that the sun shone through. I looked up to see the single ray of sun breaking through the clouds. It took me a second to react, but when I did, I gathered my camera and started to take pictures of the house. I walked to the front and took some more. With the light, the green grass, and fruitful tree, it looked like a dream. A house with a wraparound porch to drink tea in on a hot summer day and a yard to run around.
“How many acres surround the house?” I snapped a picture of the flowers near my feet, not for the real estate company, or my blog, but because I was compelled to. They looked like pink dahlias.
“Ten acres.” River walked over to me, standing beside me again. He kept looking over my shoulder to see the screen on my camera, which was something I normally couldn’t stand people doing but I didn’t mind when he did it. Besides, it was his house.
“Ten acres is a lot.”
“You know this is an island, right?” He sounded amused. “We have about twenty-five thousand acres total, give or take.”
My brows rose. “I mean, I guess there is no definition that says an island can’t be just a dot as long as it’s surrounded by water.”
“Yes, that is the definition of an island, Penelope.” He chuckled. “What I mean to say is that this is a piece of that island.” He pointed in the direction of Pan. “A big chunk of it, too. Pan is what, two-hundred and forty miles long?”
“Something like that.”
“They say originally, before the curse, before everything, there was no part between this and that and that the entire island measured two-hundred and eighty miles give or take.”
“This doesn’t seem like it would be forty miles.” I looked around.
“You’d never know it because you’re just in the entrance of it. We have miles and miles behind us, and restaurants and