REN

* * * * * *

2013

 

 

I’D LIKE TO say things went back to normal easily.

They didn’t.

After that first night, where we headed to an all-night gas station and filled up with lukewarm Hot Pockets and processed snack foods, Della and I kept our distance.

We walked side by side but didn’t touch.

We talked and laughed but didn’t relax.

And when the sun rose on a new day and the decision to leave this place and the people who knew us as the Wilds cemented into reality, we headed to the local supermarket, filled the backpack full of provisions, checked over our old tent and sleeping bag, and traded some cash for another sleeping bag, rucksack, and a few other travel requirements for Della at the only camping store in town.

It felt strange not to steal the stuff we needed, even after years of earning an honest living. It felt even stranger breaking habits and saying goodbye to familiar landmarks that had been our constant for so long.

Not strange bad. Strange good.

I hated how easily I turned my back on everything. How I merely walked out of the Wilsons lives without a backward glance—focused only on finding Della. And now that I’d found her, I didn’t care where we went.

I didn’t think about Cassie.

I didn’t worry about leaving John or Patricia without an employee.

Della was home to me, and there was something infinitely perfect just being the two of us again.

She might have upset me, messed up my mind, and ruined my trust, but nothing could change the fact that where she was, I was happiest, and she was all I needed.

I didn’t know how to change that. And I didn’t know how to make Della see that just because she was my everything, it didn’t mean I wanted to be hers.

She needed to want others. That was part of life. John had advised me on such things.

His gruff voice echoed regularly in my ears: “Show her you’re human with flaws. Figure out a way to keep her as your sister, Ren. Otherwise, you won’t have her at all.”

He was wrong when he said she’d ever feel more than a family bond for me. She’d told me herself, and despite my guardedness on her explanation, I tended to believe her.

She was ten years my junior, and I saw her as fresh-faced innocent and far too young to share the sort of relationship I wanted. But I’d forgotten something important. There were two sides to everything, and I’d failed to see how she must view me.

I’d been stuck-up to think she’d want me in any other way than as a guardian.

She had to be telling the truth because at ten years her elder, I was boring and surly and far too old to share the sort of fledgling romance she would eventually seek.

I didn’t need to show her I was human.

She knew who and what I was.

She knew me better than anyone, and when the time came for her to meet another boy, then I’d show her exactly how flawed I was by interrogating the hell out of him before he could go near her.

John was incorrect.

Della loved me.

But it wasn’t wrong or tainted. It was just as it had always been, and as the roles we’d played faded from view, and we turned toward the forest instead of the farm, I was grateful we were leaving.

Grateful to delete past expectations and remove outsider’s opinions because no matter that they came from a good place, they didn’t know us…not really.

No one truly knew the lives of another.

That was why I liked being alone, and by the time we reached the outskirts of the forest with our stuffed backpacks and wanderlust bubbling in our veins, I gave Della one last chance. One final choice—to admit this was truly what she wanted.

To run just like I’d done from the Mclary’s.

To turn her back on everything and start new.

Unlike the last time we’d lived in the forest, Della had her own backpack with extra tools and equipment and would be expected to pull her weight. Our tiny tent would be a struggle, but at least we had separate sleeping bags. Washing in rivers would come with strict privacy, and dinners would be a chore shared by both of us.

This wasn’t a vacation. This was real life. It would be hard. It would be constant. From here on out, we would be homeless until we found a new place to stay.

I needed her to understand that.

For her to accept the burden of running from people who cared because once we said goodbye, that was it.

“Are you sure?” I asked, glancing at the wind ruffling her butterscotch hair.

She didn’t look at me, keeping her gaze on the beckoning trees. “I’m sure.”

“Okay, then.”

For better or for worse, we didn’t look back as we vanished into the wilderness and said goodbye to civilization.

* * * * *

Unlike the other camping trips we’d taken over the many summers at Cherry River, this was different. What we carried was all we owned in the world. What we gathered as we wandered was all the food we’d have for that night or the next.

And slowly, gradually, the stress of living around people faded.

As a day turned into a week, and Della gave me no reason to worry, I smiled a little easier. I laughed a little louder. I didn’t wince when she touched me in passing and didn’t freeze when she pressed a kiss to my cheek.

The fear that she’d overstep grew less and less as our bond returned to what it had always been.

If anything, things grew better between us.

Different, yes.

Older and more grown-up, but still connected.

Before, when the stars woke and darkness descended, Della had been too young to talk before exhaustion put her to sleep. Now, she stayed up late with me.

She was older, and I finally had no choice but to see the changes in her. To notice the roundness of hips and swell of breasts. She could’ve become a stranger as she lost her childish angles if it wasn’t for the blue ribbon she still wore either in her hair, around her wrist, or in a bow around her neck.

I still recognised the girl I’d raised thanks to the untouched joy she showed when I agreed to tell her a story, and the unsullied sound of pure happiness when I made her laugh.

Della was still Della, despite my fears of losing her, and after we’d eaten and banked the fire for the night, we lay side by side squished in our tiny tent.

As our legs brushed and breaths found the same rhythm, our natural freedom and ease with each other erased the residual mess and balance returned.

Nothing felt forced.

Nothing felt hidden.

Our ages didn’t matter as much out here, only our ability to survive.

By the end of the third week, I stopped bringing up the fact that we needed to find somewhere so she could return to school. I accepted, after multiple convincing from her, that the term was almost over, and she could slip into any educational system with her current grades with no problems.

I wanted to share her optimism, but we didn’t have birth records or passports or even a place to stay to enrol her. Without John and Patricia’s help, I didn’t know how I’d get her into class without people asking too many questions. However, I couldn’t shatter her dream and figured I’d solve that complication when we got to it.

For now, we agreed to spend the summer in the forest, remembering our old way of life.

Most days, we travelled a few miles before setting up another camp. Others, we stayed in a glen and swam and sun-baked.

Once a month, she’d turn extremely private, popping painkillers and staying subdued.

At first, I worried she was sick. But by the second time, I knew.

Della was no longer a child.

Her body was an adult, even if it hadn’t fully grown into one.

I offered her sympathy and tried to help with her period pain, but unlike most times where she wanted my company, she wanted nothing to do with me.

When things passed, our bond would snap right back into place and life would be simple again. Hiking, exploring, swimming.

Della hadn’t packed a swimsuit, but she didn’t argue when I made her wear a t-shirt and underwear before getting wet. I made sure she was never around when I bathed, and I averted my eyes whenever she’d strip—sometimes catching me unaware with flashes of her perfect skin.

We shared tasks on building a fire or erecting the tent or preparing food, and overall, the lifestyle we shared was much easier now she was older and offered more help than hindrance.

For two glorious months, we travelled on back-roads and explored the stunning countryside. Occasionally, we’d stumble onto a campsite tucked high in the hills, or hear trampers in the distance, treading the trails we’d become so sure footed on.

The money stuffed safe in my backpack wasn’t needed as I allowed every aspect of our lives before the Wilsons to return—including stealing.

I didn’t take from those who had nothing and did my best to only pinch a few things. Items like toothpaste and deodorant, canned food and another lighter…things that didn’t cost the large supermarkets much money but kept us healthy and fed.

Della asked me to teach her the art of thievery, but that was one thing I refused. I’d teach her anything she wanted—skinning rabbits, setting traps, sharpening knives, making fires—but never stealing.

There was too much risk.

And she was far too precious to get caught.

She might not need me as much as she once did, but I still had a role to play in her life.

A role I would gladly uphold until my dying breath.

To protect her.

At all costs.

Even if it meant protecting her from herself.