Read Online Tree of Truth (Book of Pilgrimage 1) by James Huss - Free Book Online
Authors: James Huss
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gazed into each other’s eyes. “This was the best night of my life, Shelley.”
“Don’t be silly. We just—” I didn’t let her finish. I kissed her passionately. She wrapped her arms tightly around me. When I let go of her, she stumbled backward a little. I stooped to catch her. “I see stars, Marlowe.”
“Me too—your kisses are amazing.” In my bliss, I missed the look of panic in her eyes.
“No, Marlowe—I mean those stars.” She backed up against the theater wall and slid down to the ground. I sat next to her, holding her hand with one of mine and stroking her hair with the other.
“Maybe it’s not that . Maybe it’s something else.” I was foolishly optimistic, as usual. I helped her to her feet.
“Maybe you’re right.” She spoke with a blank stare and a hopeless tone. I knew she didn’t believe me. She held my hand tightly as I walked her home, and I gave her one last short, sweet kiss before she climbed through the window into her bedroom.
I made it home without incident. I tried to sleep, but the nightmare of Shelley walking into the Light haunted me every time I closed my weary eyes. She was everything to me, and soon she would be gone. The tension in my knotted stomach struggled violently to best the angst of my aching brain. It was a rough night.
*.*.*
By dawn I had given up on the charade of slumber. It was something of a relief, actually, not to have to play the role of unsuccessful sleeper, tossing and turning before an audience of none, thinking of Shelley and wondering if she were feeling the same misery. That morning I was hungrier than usual, and breakfast was an even more welcoming sight than the sun’s light. I could always eat, even in times of stress. I met Charlotte in the kitchen and helped her cook for the rest of the family. She pretended not to notice my nibbling and sampling.
We ate together, as we often did, and then we ventured off to our daily toils—my cousins would help my brother tend to the farm, and then Blake would escape to the meeting of the elders. It was not much of an escape, though, tending to those tenacious weeds that sprouted throughout our village. It was always something. My “sisters” (Charlotte and my cousins’ wives) would take care of the children and the house, and later they would prepare the noon and evening meals. We were pretty independent, although my cousins sometimes helped out on a few other farms and in a few of the trading shops. They were hard workers, and everyone appreciated them. It was a busy life, but it was a good life. That was the life that awaited me. I didn’t care—I only wished my Shelley could be a part of it.
I packed my lunch inside my schoolbag and said my farewells. We were usually polite to each other, whether we meant it or not. I even hugged my brother. He retreated from the hug with a victorious smile. Blake thought he had won the battle over Sylvia. He had no idea where I had gone the night before. But he would find out soon.
I made it to school in time to catch Shelley before she went inside. She looked cheerful—I guess I expected despondence and despair. But Shelley was tough and optimistic. That’s one of the things I loved about her.
“Good morning.” I leaned in to kiss her. She pulled away quickly.
“Not here. What were you thinking?” She was right. What was I thinking?
“Sorry—last night was just so—” I groped for words.
“I know, Marlowe. I know.” The morning bell rang, saving me from my clumsy tongue. “Are you ready to make up that lab for Conrad?”
“I’m not going to class. I just came to see you.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll tell you later.” I looked around—everyone had already disappeared inside the building. “You should go. You’re going to be late.” She turned her head slightly, and I went in for the kill, gently pecking her on the cheek and then bolting before she had a chance to react. “Tell Conrad I’ll see him tomorrow,” I
“Don’t be silly. We just—” I didn’t let her finish. I kissed her passionately. She wrapped her arms tightly around me. When I let go of her, she stumbled backward a little. I stooped to catch her. “I see stars, Marlowe.”
“Me too—your kisses are amazing.” In my bliss, I missed the look of panic in her eyes.
“No, Marlowe—I mean those stars.” She backed up against the theater wall and slid down to the ground. I sat next to her, holding her hand with one of mine and stroking her hair with the other.
“Maybe it’s not that . Maybe it’s something else.” I was foolishly optimistic, as usual. I helped her to her feet.
“Maybe you’re right.” She spoke with a blank stare and a hopeless tone. I knew she didn’t believe me. She held my hand tightly as I walked her home, and I gave her one last short, sweet kiss before she climbed through the window into her bedroom.
I made it home without incident. I tried to sleep, but the nightmare of Shelley walking into the Light haunted me every time I closed my weary eyes. She was everything to me, and soon she would be gone. The tension in my knotted stomach struggled violently to best the angst of my aching brain. It was a rough night.
*.*.*
By dawn I had given up on the charade of slumber. It was something of a relief, actually, not to have to play the role of unsuccessful sleeper, tossing and turning before an audience of none, thinking of Shelley and wondering if she were feeling the same misery. That morning I was hungrier than usual, and breakfast was an even more welcoming sight than the sun’s light. I could always eat, even in times of stress. I met Charlotte in the kitchen and helped her cook for the rest of the family. She pretended not to notice my nibbling and sampling.
We ate together, as we often did, and then we ventured off to our daily toils—my cousins would help my brother tend to the farm, and then Blake would escape to the meeting of the elders. It was not much of an escape, though, tending to those tenacious weeds that sprouted throughout our village. It was always something. My “sisters” (Charlotte and my cousins’ wives) would take care of the children and the house, and later they would prepare the noon and evening meals. We were pretty independent, although my cousins sometimes helped out on a few other farms and in a few of the trading shops. They were hard workers, and everyone appreciated them. It was a busy life, but it was a good life. That was the life that awaited me. I didn’t care—I only wished my Shelley could be a part of it.
I packed my lunch inside my schoolbag and said my farewells. We were usually polite to each other, whether we meant it or not. I even hugged my brother. He retreated from the hug with a victorious smile. Blake thought he had won the battle over Sylvia. He had no idea where I had gone the night before. But he would find out soon.
I made it to school in time to catch Shelley before she went inside. She looked cheerful—I guess I expected despondence and despair. But Shelley was tough and optimistic. That’s one of the things I loved about her.
“Good morning.” I leaned in to kiss her. She pulled away quickly.
“Not here. What were you thinking?” She was right. What was I thinking?
“Sorry—last night was just so—” I groped for words.
“I know, Marlowe. I know.” The morning bell rang, saving me from my clumsy tongue. “Are you ready to make up that lab for Conrad?”
“I’m not going to class. I just came to see you.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll tell you later.” I looked around—everyone had already disappeared inside the building. “You should go. You’re going to be late.” She turned her head slightly, and I went in for the kill, gently pecking her on the cheek and then bolting before she had a chance to react. “Tell Conrad I’ll see him tomorrow,” I
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