Chapter 11

ChapterEleven

Shiloh

“Jim?”

This whispered question comes from Blaste and I rouse myself from a half-sleep, cracking an eyelid open to find an old man standing at the edge of the lake holding a fishing pole, several yards away. In the other hand, he holds a bucket, but he drops it to the ground and it tips over, sending bait and supplies spilling onto the shore.

“Jim?” Blaste says again, louder, voice almost ragged.

That name is ringing a bell somewhere in my mind, but I’m still too groggy from dozing to recall where I’ve heard it before. Who is this man? He’s looking at Blaste like he’s seen a ghost. Someone he’s seen before. But maybe hasn’t seen in a long time.

Ghost.

Oh…oh God.

I remember where I’ve heard the name Jim. When Blaste was talking about his family, Jim was the name of his older brother. But he can’t be one and the same with this man, can he? There are a million Jims in this world, right? That doesn’t explain the recognition on both of their faces, though. That doesn’t explain the sheen in Blaste’s eyes.

When the atmosphere around me changes, I think I must be dreaming.

This isn’t the kind of thing that happens in real life. At least, until recently.

One minute, I was sleeping peacefully in the arms of the man I love and the next I’m being jerked into awareness by the sudden feeling that something is wrong. Very wrong. It’s in the way his chest stiffens and Blaste crushes me to his body, like he’s scared I’m going to disappear. But I’m not the one who is disappearing.

He is.

His arms become less substantial around me. A wind whips up around us, blowing my hair, the grass and our clothing in all directions. It’s loud. A choir of desolate sounds. Above us, the sky begins to darken and waves appear on the lake, whitewash crashing violently onto the shoreline. I scream, attempting to cling to Blaste, but the edges of him are dissolving into gray matter. He’s scrambling to keep a hold of me, terror twisting his features, but I can’t feel his touch anymore. I can’t grab hold. There’s nothing but air, an outline of where he used to be.

“No! Shiloh!”

His anguished voice cuts through the screaming wind like a knife, echoing over the water. I’m so horrified and shell-shocked, that all I can do is stare at the indent of his body in the grass and shriek at the top of my lungs, tears pouring from my eyes.

Gone. He’s gone? He’s gone!

“Blaste?” I sob, scrambling to my feet and turning in a haphazard circle, as if I might find him standing behind me, reassuring and full of affectionate humor, but there is no one. Not even the old man. He’s gone, too. I’m completely alone under the apocalyptic sky. Even that is beginning to fade, though. The wind is dying down, the water calming. It’s unacceptable that the birds are beginning to chirp again, the sky transforming into a serene blue, when I feel as if Armageddon is happening in the center of my chest.

What happened?

How…what…

And then I remember. I recall what my mother said to me this morning when Blaste was hiding in my closet.

A time traveler’s time runs out if he comes across someone from his own time.

That old man was Jim, Blaste’s brother.

There’s no other explanation for his sudden disappearance.

Blaste has been taken back to nineteen forty-nine.

I collapse into the grass, boneless, a scream lodged in my throat. My bones shake, misery threatening to capsize my brain, my thoughts. To take hold of me and drag me into madness, but I have to think. I have to think—

The Wanting Tree.

I have to get to the tree.

There is no guarantee I’ll be able to reconnect with Blaste through its magic again, but I will try and try and try again until I’m dead. And I know that if he can be waiting for me on the other side, he will be. There isn’t a single doubt in my mind. My heart is already beginning to die without him by my side. I’m gasping for air as I stumble to my feet, my limbs weak from the agony of loss, of fear that I won’t be able to reach him. His voice still echoes in my head, his touch still warm on my skin. How can he not be with me?

I demand my body to operate correctly—and I run. I run so hard my lungs begin to ache halfway home, tears burn my temples and dampen my hair, but I don’t stop. I run harder.

It takes me twenty minutes to make it home, but it feels like forty days have passed. My legs shake as I round the corner into the driveway. There is an unfamiliar sound in the air, a buzz, but I attribute it to my heart ripping itself in half and keep going. I keep going…

And almost tumble to my knees when I enter the pasture behind the house.

My mother is standing beside the Wanting Tree.

There are three men there, too. Men I don’t know.

Two of them operate an electric saw.

They drag it back and forth against the trunk of the tree.

Denial spears me in the middle. “No!” I scream at the top of my lungs, running in the direction of my mother and the three men. It’s too late, though. The Wanting Tree is pitching sideways more, more, a little more and then it groans, toppling to the ground in a rustle of leaves. “No! Mom! What are you doing? What did you do?”

She looks almost annoyed at my arrival, flicking me an exhausted look over her shoulder. “It was so out of place, Shi. Smack dab in the middle of the field. Now that your grandmother has gone, it was time to get rid of this eyesore.”

My ability to breathe is gone. I’m ice cold.

Everything around me blinks in and out, like I’m on the verge of losing consciousness.

As I watch in horror, the tree begins to blacken, starting at the root. The rot climbs higher and higher, causing the men and my mother to cry out in shock. A normal tree wouldn’t do this. But it’s not a normal tree. It was my only connection to Blaste—and now I have no way to find him again in the layers of time. He’s gone to me. And now I’m dying, just like the tree, my legs giving out beneath me, the organ in my chest beginning to slow down, because it no longer has a reason to operate.

Shiloh.

My head comes up when I hear Blaste’s voice.

My fingers dig into the earth, and I look around, praying he’s there. That he found his way back to me. But it’s only my mother and the workers, staring between me and the tree, like they can’t believe what they’re witnessing.

SHILOH.

The tree is almost completely black now and Blaste’s voice sounds more distant. Too distant. But it’s in that moment that my heart guides me. I don’t question what it tells me to do, I simply lunge to my feet and dive into the trunk of the tree, picturing the face of my beloved. I wish for his arms around me so intensely that I taste salt and blood in my mouth, the sides of my throat ravaged by my hoarse shouts of his name.

The inside of the trunk turns black around me.

I hear nothing but wind.

Debris whips around me at such a fast trajectory that I have to close my eyes, but just before I do, there is a golden shimmer. I catch the tail end of it and it breeds hope, enough to cling onto like a lifeline and I double down, picturing every second with Blaste. The taste and feel of him. I beg fate with everything inside of me to bring me back to him.

Faintly, I hear my mother say, “My God, the story was true,” and then…

Silence crashes down, leaving nothing but a hum of latent energy.

My head pounds, mouth dry as cotton, heart jostling in my ribcage. It’s the only part of me that seems capable of moving. But then I hear the wretched bellows of my name, the horrible barren rasp of a man losing his voice, but still shouting in desperation.

It’s Blaste.

But is it Blaste…here? Or is he far away, trapped in time?

I’m afraid to open my eyes and find out, but I have no choice.

If there is a chance to see him, I will always, always take it.

Cautiously, I sit up and look around, startled to find myself in the middle of my family’s pasture, stark sunlight warming the grass around me. There is a smell of something in the air. Like…biscuits? Or something baking. I turn my head and see the house, the paddock, but…they’re different. The paddock fence is painted white, not red. There is an ancient truck, a sort of burnt orange color I’ve never seen before with an old, banged up license plate. A group of people stand at the entrance of the house looking worried.

Looking at the Wanting Tree.

It’s still standing.

And Blaste’s voice is coming from inside the trunk. He’s inside. Screaming for me.

“Blaste.” My voice emerges in a croak, but I manage to climb onto my feet unsteadily and run in that direction, trying again. “Blaste! Blaste!”

His head pokes out of the tree, eyes bloodshot and crazed. “Shiloh!” he roars, throwing himself through the opening and barreling into me, wrapping his arms as tightly as they’ll go, both of us tumbling sideways into the grass. “Oh Jesus, Shiloh. Jesus. Jesus. I thought you were lost to me forever.” His frantic hands run over my face, my hair, down my back. “I couldn’t reach you. I couldn’t see you.”

“I was so scared,” I whimper into his neck.

“Me too. I’ve never been so scared in my fucking life. I couldn’t have gone on without you, Shiloh.” He kisses my mouth hard, once, twice, his eyes damp and adoring. “I’ll never let you be scared again. Not a single second of your life is going to be anything but happy. I’ve got you now, sugar. We’re together, the way it should be.”

“I made it back to you,” I whisper, clinging.

“Thank God. Thank God. Thank God.” He presses kisses to my forehead, my temples and cheeks. Slowly, though, his features transform with concern. “Your mother…”

“She saw me leave. She knows I’ve gone somewhere. Somewhere better.” I suck down a shuddering breath. “I’ll miss her. I’ll miss what could have been when it comes to our relationship, but I…think we’re both better off flying away. Especially when I’m flying to you.”

Relieved, he kisses me hard. “We’ll never be apart again, my love.”

My heart flutters happily. Contentedly. “Promise?”

“I promise you everything.” He rocks me for a few heavy minutes, until our trembles subside and then he picks me up into his arms, cradling me to his chest as he walks toward the house. “Come meet your new family, Shiloh.”