The sun hid behind feathered treetops, and I swore my lungs were about to collapse.
Miles pressed on ahead, carrying a large stick in his hand that he used to whack at the brush and thicket. He looked as though he’d only been walking two minutes instead of almost thirty.
“Seriously, why are we doing this again?” I wheezed as we neared the top of a small crest where rocks sat in a small cluster off to the side.
Slumping down onto them, I scrambled for my water bottle. Miles had woken me at dawn, saying we were going on one of his beloved hikes. He’d made me tag along once before, but hiking wasn’t for me. I’d only said yes to this particular excursion because it meant we’d have breakfast with my dad. But after he’d eyed Miles with so much scorn and distrust as he scarfed down runny eggs and soggy toast, I was kind of relieved to leave and hit the woods.
Was.
Miles, not realizing I’d stopped, kept walking, then backtracked. He grinned, tugging at a piece of hair that’d curled around my hairline, no doubt from the exertion I could feel heating every inch of my out-of-shape body. “You said you did this all the time as a kid.”
I swallowed and capped my water bottle, shoving it away even as my tongue and throat ached for more. I’d need to save it, considering we definitely weren’t done yet. “Correction,” I said as I raised a finger, my heart rate finally resuming a normal rhythm. “I wasn’t allowed in this far. I’d get in trouble every time I dared.”
He motioned for us to keep moving, and at the roll of my eyes, he laughed and grabbed my hand in his, heaving me up from the rock. I gave it a longing look as Miles hauled me down the hill and deeper into the forest that bordered my dad’s property.
“You know, couples can have healthy relationships without making one another indulge in each other’s hobbies.”
“We haven’t been hiking together in months,” he said, then stopped, looking east before continuing north again. “I thought you’d like it after hearing you mention playing here as a kid.”
I removed my hand from his, not wanting him to feel the moisture that would no doubt reappear soon. “My lungs and legs didn’t hate me as much as a kid.”
Miles huffed, holding a branch out so it didn’t smack me in the face, and I had to say, if nothing else, it was kind of nice to see those calves of his working. He was like a lion, every movement fluid and powerful, and I was but a meager bird in comparison.
Sighing, I redid my ponytail as we approached a familiar clearing. My feet halted, my heart dunking into my stomach as memories resurfaced.
“You okay?” Miles asked, stopping farther up ahead to stare at the faint cream outline of the castle through the trees. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I’m fine, but we should head back. This is private property.”
His eyes narrowed, then dropped to the ground where we were standing as he walked over to me. “We’re already trespassing; let’s just take a little peek.”
“Peeking leads to trouble,” I said, then groaned. “Ugh, I sound just like my freaking dad.”
Miles gently gripped my chin, searching my face. “You’ve been through there, haven’t you?” He smiled as if I was some deviant, and it thrilled him.
I stepped back, causing his hand to fall to his side. “Once or twice.”
He hummed thoughtfully, and my dry throat had me reaching for my water again.
Screw it. If I ran out, I’d drink Miles’s for making me exercise on a Sunday when I could’ve been watching Keeping Up with the Kardashians or, even better, reading.
“Story time,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “And what better time than now.”
Taking a long gulp of water, I slumped to the dirt. “Not much of a story, really.”
Miles joined me, wrapping his arms around his bent knees as he stared through the trees, the May sun unbearably hot on our heads as it blazed through the clearing.
“Tell me anyway.”
Birds called from high above, and I inhaled the scent of damp earth from this morning’s rain. Closing my eyes, I let my mind free fall back, then reopened them and followed his gaze to the castle.
The castle appeared through a gap in the trees up ahead. A soft cream with one milky turret, just like the one in my book.
I snapped the book shut and put it away, excitement carrying my feet faster over the fallen logs. I leaped over holes, ditches, and slinked by thorny trees that snagged my dress.
This was the farthest I’d ever been into the woods that ran alongside our small farm. Daddy always said I couldn’t go in and to only play on the outskirts because there could be snakes and other horrid things inside. Not to mention, I could get lost.
But Daddy was working a double at the station, and Hope had friends over, so she was distracted. No one would even know. Besides, I wouldn’t get lost. I could see the tip of the castle from my bedroom window each night when I counted the stars to help me fall asleep.
I knew the way.
My mom had taught me that. Counting stars. Not that it was hard or anything, but it helped my imagination quiet down, enabling me to fall asleep easier.
She died a year ago, not long after my seventh birthday. I’d cried. A lot. But I had to stop crying after a while because Daddy didn’t like it. Hope said it was because he couldn’t cry. He couldn’t get sad like us, so we had to be tough and help him by keeping our tears quiet or by turning them off.
I learned to turn them off, but it took a while.
And my mommy … Before someone crashed into her car, she would always tell me made-up stories about the castle next door. About a prince who lived there with his parents, a gentle king and a wicked queen.
And finally, finally, I got to see it for myself.
Stopping in a small clearing, I wiped drops of sweat from my forehead with the sleeve of my sweatshirt and got my bottle out of my backpack. I took a huge gulp and almost choked when I saw a boy appear from behind a giant, moss-covered rock.
“Go back, little girl.”
“Who you calling a little girl?” I eyed the boy, who couldn’t have been more than thirteen or fourteen years old. Though he was really tall and thin. So maybe to him, I was little.
One side of his mouth lifted as I put my drink bottle away. “You’re the only other human here. Well, of the female variety.”
His voice was croaky, but it wasn’t deep. Hope said a boy became a man when his voice got deep. That made him just as much of a kid as I was. Yet his words sent a bite of fear zooming through my chest. My heart pounded as my throat dried.
His eyes were so bright, and he stood so still, even his hair, as though the breeze floated around him.
“Who are you?”
His head tilted just a fraction. Then he blinked. “It matters not who I am, what matters is that you’re trespassing.”
My hands landed on my hips, one cocking to the side as annoyance melted any fear I had. He was just a boy. A weird, statue-looking, bossy boy. “This is my daddy’s land too.”
He made a tutting sound, which brought back long-lost memories of my mother. She’d make the same noise whenever I was doing something she didn’t approve of or was about to. Like walking inside with muddy boots.
“Your daddy’s land ended a mile back. You’ve come too far, turn around.”
No. No way. My eyes stung, and my feet hurt. I’d walked for what seemed like two hours to see the castle.
I turned the tears off.
“I just want to see the castle, and then I’ll go.” I tried to compromise. Who was he anyway? I asked him as much.
“Castle?” Another tilt to his lips, and then he folded his arms across his chest, which was covered in a black polo shirt. “I’m the owner of said castle.”
My eyes bugged out as I dropped my backpack and dug out my book. Without thought, I marched over to him, opening the bookmarked page as I did, and stabbed my finger at the illustration. “Is it just like this? I’ve always wondered.”
He took a step back, his nose scrunching as if he’d sniffed something foul. I lifted my arm to check my armpit, wondering if it was me.
Not yet, I thought. My sister’s floral spray kept the smellies at bay. Hope said the smellies arrived in the summertime first, but they’d stick around once you reached a certain age.
I wasn’t a certain age yet, but still, I didn’t want to stink, and I liked the floral smell.
“It’s nothing like that.”
My heart sank to the soles of my worn sneakers. “Oh.” I stuffed my book away, then shouldered my backpack again.
The boy sighed. “But I guess, seeing as you walked all this way, you can see that for yourself.”
My smile stretched so wide, my cheeks hurt. “You mean that?”
His brows crinkled. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
Such serious words for a young boy.
I ignored them and moved past him through the clearing, wading through undergrowth and clumps of leaves until I reached the tree line.
A gasp emptied my lungs and filled the air. The boy laughed, an oddly musical sound, as I took in the beauty before me.
It was gigantic.
A perfect monstrosity.
The cream exterior shone beneath the sun’s rays, covered in ivy and other serpent-like vines with tiny flowers on them. The windows were oblongs that curved at the tops, and the doors were huge and wooden, polished and gleaming and surrounded by large potted plants.
Water gurgled from a fountain in the courtyard, and as I dared to step closer, I saw orange and red inside the water. Fish. Carp, maybe.
“It’s magical,” I breathed. “The only thing that’s missing is a moat. But still … magical. You live here? You really live here?”
The boy kicked at some rocks where we stood on the pebbled path by one of the rose gardens. “I don’t say things—”
“You don’t mean,” I finished for him, then smiled to show I was just messing with him.
He didn’t return it, and instead, a look of panic washed over his face when he heard an older man’s voice.
My daddy’s voice.
“Crapper jack.” I spun back to the woods. “I gotta go.”
I didn’t wait to see if the boy waved as I ran into the woods, following the sound of my dad’s voice until I met up with him in the middle of the tree-shrouded landscape.
He was dressed in his work uniform, and his face was a mottled red, lines of concern creasing his forehead. “Fucking hell, Jemima. What on God’s green earth do you think you’re doing out here?”
Out of breath from running, it took me a moment to answer. “I was just exploring. I didn’t mean to go so far.”
He looked behind me into the trees, a frown wrinkling his ageing face further. “You know you’re not allowed. Your sister called the station in tears saying you were missing, and I almost crashed the truck speeding home.”
“I’m sorry.” I swallowed, my shoulders slumping. “I got bored and only wanted to look.”
“Looking leads to trouble, Jemmie.”
“It’s okay. I was fine. And I met a boy in the woods.”
Daddy was quiet a minute, then said, “They’re a bunch of rich, entitled snobs, that family. They wouldn’t want you trespassing on their turf, got me? If I say don’t do it, I say it for a god damned reason.”
“Okay, Daddy.”
“No TV for a week, and you’re making dinner tonight.”
I sighed with relief that my punishment wasn’t worse. He could’ve taken away my books.
That night, I sat on the window seat in my room, scrubbing my hands on my nightgown to rid the smell of raw potatoes and onions from them. But the moon was too weak, and I couldn’t see the castle through the trees. And even when I broke my promise to Dad, venturing back to the castle over the following summer, I never did see the boy again.
A few years later, after one last daring venture, I discovered the family must have moved.
Nothing remained.
Only empty beauty.
“It looks even worse now,” Miles said as he crept closer, using the pair of binoculars he’d brought with him. The ones meant for bird watching, of which we’d done none of.
“It’s been abandoned for years.” Chills shot down my arms, my exerted body shivering. “Let’s head back.”
He stared a full minute longer, his shoulders loosening with a long sigh. Then he turned and took my hand in his, allowing me to walk a much slower pace than the one he’d set out for us to get there.
Except I didn’t want to walk slow, so I picked up my feet.
Thirst and exhaustion forgotten, I tried not to run and power walked until the feeling of something crawling over my skin melted away into the shaded gloom behind us.