Flirting with Fate, page 15
“The gardener’s son was not boring. He told the princess stories.” Caroline spoke with a smooth, calming voice. “Stories to make her laugh. Stories that filled up her heart. Stories she had never heard before.”
“Like what?” Ava asked, keeping her gaze on a single distant star.
“Oh, stories of love and heartbreak and chance and hope. Stories with dragons and magical places.”
Ava liked the idea of dragons and magical places.
Caroline said, “Minutes, hours, days, and weeks went by. The princess’s mother grew tired of waiting. She told her daughter that she had selected the prince for her.
“ ‘No,’ the princess told her mother. ‘I have already decided.’
“By choosing the gardener’s son, the non-prince, the princess thought she could get around her own destiny to kill with a kiss the first prince she let into her heart. She thought she could trick Fate.
“She thought she was such a clever girl.”
Eighteen
Ava didn’t know which was more panic inducing: to be surprised or to be amazed. She supposed amazement was the better choice and didn’t carry the same weight of expectation. But what could be so amazing about steam engines?
When Rion headed in the opposite direction of Travel Town, Ava said, “Aren’t you going the wrong way?”
Rion gave her a quizzical glance. “Oh . . . you thought we were going to Travel Town? Trains aren’t as cool as what I’m going to show you. Come on.”
Ava felt a small tug of unexpected excitement. She had just promised herself that she would be in control from here on out, and already Rion was twisting the plan.
They crossed Griffith Park Drive and turned onto a wide equestrian trail. Pretty soon they entered a deep shade under oak and sycamore trees. Bits of sunlight filtered through the twisted branches.
“Where are we going?” Ava said, glad she’d worn comfy tennis shoes.
“Has anyone ever taught you the concept of a surprise? It’s not much farther.”
There was a prickling sensation that started in Ava’s feet and wound up her legs. Was it really a good idea to follow a stranger into the woods? You’ve watched too many horror movies, she told herself. Besides, he’s not a total stranger. We’ve had flan together, and he has my blessing! And my sisters know where I am and would totally raise hell to find me.
As they hiked a small rise near a gurgling creek, Ava could feel the stress of the city melting away. Her breaths became deeper, easier, more relaxed.
“This is really pretty,” she said. “I’ve never been here before.”
“It’s one of my favorite places.”
Ava could see why. There was an unexpected beauty in the ancient-looking trees, the way the leftover sun sifted through their twisted branches. It was hard to imagine the hustle and bustle of the city just miles away, or that Los Angeles was once this wild terrain.
For the next few minutes they made small talk. Ava pounded him with questions, trying to get at a nugget of truth that might lead her to figuring out what the blessing was. Surely, Rion could feel that something was different. Right?
But the only things she learned were that Rion’s favorite food was pizza topped with jalapeños dipped in ranch dressing. His favorite music was any and all except country, because the songs always seemed to have sad endings. His favorite person was his grandfather. He read over thirty books last year, mostly graphic novels, outdoors was his favorite place to be, and he volunteered with Paper Bridges, an organization that brought orphans and individuals together around the globe through letters.
“So, you’re like a pen pal?” Ava said, intrigued, as they continued up the shadowed path.
“I write to a ten-year-old in Greece; his name is Basil,” Rion said. “Awesome kid.”
“That’s so cool. How did you get involved with them?” But what she really meant was, Why did you choose to write letters to an orphan? That isn’t some random thing.
Rion was silent for a few more steps. He readjusted his backpack and said, “My parents died when I was ten. Car accident. And I don’t . . . I guess I really relate to kids who don’t have their mom and dad, you know?”
“I’m so sorry,” Ava said lightly. She felt like she should say something else but couldn’t find the words. Then she wondered if Maggie was Rion’s mom. Didn’t he say that his grandfather was his mom’s dad? She wanted to know if that’s who the orchard was named for but didn’t have the guts to ask. Because maybe, like her, Rion didn’t want to talk about parents who weren’t coming back.
Rion’s shoulder bumped her gently. “It’s all good. I mean, Bruce Wayne turned out okay.” He laughed, relaxing the moment. “Some things are just meant to be,” he went on, “and I’m lucky really. My gramps is the best.”
There is no meant to be, Rion.
“What about you?” he asked. “What are your parents like?”
Ava swallowed. She wasn’t ready to tell him about her mom, if she ever told him. It was the secret she carried, the lie always on the tip of her tongue, ready to be told at a moment’s notice. Like when she was in the third grade and a kid asked why her mom wasn’t at parent night, she told them her mom had died. But she knew if she acted weird about it with Rion, he would only get more curious, so she gave him a morsel. “They’re fine. Dad’s cool. Mom . . .”
She hesitated, reaching for a truth that wouldn’t invite more questions. “She’s in her own world.”
“What do they do?”
God, Ava hated getting-to-know-you chats. They were the worst, but if she was going to do this, if she was going to be genuine and build a real friendship with Rion, she had to share something. So she steered Rion in the direction of the people she was willing to talk about. “My dad owns a design company. My oldest sister, Viv, is an architect and works for him. Carmen, my other sister, interns in the summers. She goes to USC and has no idea what she wants to do or be.”
“I get it.” Rion was nodding thoughtfully as the two continued down the shaded path. “And you? Are you going to work for your dad?”
Ava was already shaking her head before the words made their way into the open air. “Doubt it. So you don’t know what you want to study either?”
“Not a clue. Isn’t that what college is for? Figuring it out?”
Ava would break out in hives if she stepped foot on campus with no idea what she was going to study. “Where do you want to go?”
“Somewhere close.” Stopping in his tracks, Rion surveyed the area before announcing, “This is the spot. Come on.” He hiked off the path, up a small mound, and into the trees. Ava followed.
Thirty feet in, Rion stopped under a wide oak that looked older than the rest. He shrugged off his backpack and patted the thick, rough trunk. “To see the amazement, you have to climb the tree.”
“Seriously?” Ava had climbed plenty of trees in her own backyard, but not since she was like ten.
“If you’re too scared, we don’t have to.”
“I’m not scared.”
“Or if you don’t think you can . . .”
“I know how to climb a tree, Rion.” Ava retied her joggers and adjusted her T-shirt.
Rion leaned against the thick trunk, his full mouth turned up into a half smile. “But can you do it with your eyes closed?”
“What! You’re joking, right?”
“Do I look like a kidder?”
“Actually . . .”
“You have to trust me.”
Trust. Right. Of all the things for Rion to ask her for, he had to request the one she was allergic to.
Seeing her obvious hesitation, he said, “I promise it will be worth it.”
Ava set down her bag, pushed back her shoulders, and said, “Okay, but if it’s not worth it, I’m going to murder you.”
“That’s pretty violent.” Rion laughed. “Get yourself into the tree first,” he said as he easily gripped the lowest branch with one hand, wrapped the other around the trunk, and hoisted himself into a wide foothold. His triceps were surprisingly toned, and Ava realized she had mistaken thin for weak.
He turned and extended his hand to help Ava.
“I can do it,” she said, waving him away. She was gloriously grateful that she was athletic. Maybe she never took tree-climbing lessons, but she played tennis and volleyball and could swim a mile.
Without overthinking it, she mimicked Rion’s ascent, nearly knocking him out of the tree when she overextended and swung herself into the foothold.
Rion pivoted, replanted his feet, and grabbed ahold of a higher branch to stabilize himself. “Okay,” he said, “now you have to close your eyes.”
“You were actually serious.”
“It’s an easy climb. I’m going to guide you,” he said. “And it isn’t that far.”
Ava glanced up into the thick crisscrossing branches, wondering what could be so special about this tree. Some unexpected spectacular view? Made better by closing your eyes? From where she stood, the only view was more trees. And Rion, who she suddenly realized was mere inches from her. He smelled of citrus and earth and leather. His skin was even more golden up close.
“Fine,” she muttered, trying to create some distance. “But if I fall and break my neck and can’t be the one to murder you, I guarantee you Viv and Carmen will find you quickly.”
Rion smiled. “Deal.”
With a deep, very untrusting breath, Ava closed her eyes.
“Okay,” Rion said, “place your foot about eight inches to the right.” He grabbed hold of her hand to guide her. She felt a sudden surge of what could only be described as a warm jolt of energy. Did he feel it too? If he did, he said nothing. He stayed close as she found the toehold. “There’s another branch about a foot above you to the right. Grab it and pull yourself up.”
Ava did as he instructed, hand over hand, foot over foot, using knots and holes along the way to help her. She didn’t know what surprise Rion had in store for her at the top, but the surprise that was growing in her chest at how easy it was to follow his voice and not be terrified of falling was totally unexpected. And that kind of trust felt like something tightening in her stomach, ready to explode. “Are we there yet?”
“Close.”
Another hoist and grip. “Now?”
“You might be the most impatient person I’ve ever met.”
Half a minute later, Ava hauled herself up another foot and leaned against the massive trunk. Rion said, “You can look now.”
Ava opened her eyes. They were only twenty feet above the ground, not nearly as high as she had expected. Rion swung himself past her and onto a higher branch with the ease of a monkey. “Okay, so where’s this amazement?” she said.
“You told me you like life stories.”
“Mm-hmm.”
He pointed to a branch to her right. There were words carved into the bark:
Ellie and Edwin April 4, 1963. 12 years old. Friends forever.
It was sweet to think of two kids climbing this tree and carving their names, but had Rion really brought her all the way up here to see this? And before she could ask, he said, “You can follow the story down now.”
Ava’s gaze followed his to the branch beneath her. She climbed down to get a better view of another etching.
A crooked heart. 1964. Kiss.
Inch by inch, Ava lowered herself, finding more words. A strange vibration began in her chest.
Dec. 1964 I love E. And then right next to it in a different hand, Me too.
Ava found herself smiling as she imagined these two kids growing up together, climbing this tree so they could mark the moments that mattered most to them. She could almost hear their laughter and whispers, their arguing over whether the kiss was good or bad.
A cool breeze drifted through the tree, rustling its leaves.
Feb. 1965 xoxo
Ava wasn’t sure what was significant about it, but whatever it was, it was their secret.
May 1968. Come home safe.
1968. That was during the Vietnam War. Was that what this meant? Had Edwin gone off to war? Ava’s heart closed in on itself as she pictured a girl her own age sitting on this very branch worried about the person she loved.
Ava felt an unexplainable frantic energy bubbling up in her as she searched for the next engraving. Please let there be another one. But there was nothing more. Until she found a toehold and looked up beneath a small branch.
In smaller letters than the rest was this:
Dec. 1969, thank you
And right next to it, Jan. 1970, she said yes!
Ava traced her fingers over the dates, the words, the moments. A part of her felt voyeuristic, like she was reading someone’s diary, but she had to know what happened next.
August 1972 Warren.
November 1974 William.
January 1976 Sarah.
Inch by inch Ava’s heart made room for the possibility that this couple had found their happy ending. He had survived war. They got married, had three kids.
10 years E&E
And then the trail went dead as Ava stepped back into the original foothold. Is that it? Is that how their story ended? She dropped out of the tree and circled the base, hunting. And then she saw it. She squatted to read the last inscription.
Goodbye, Edwin, April 22, 1984
Friends forever.
“Oh my God, he died? That’s a terrible ending!” Ava blurted. A huge knot grew in her throat. Love always ends in goodbye, she thought bitterly. Her eyes burned with stubborn, unwanted tears. An unexplainable anger surged.
Rion hopped down from the tree, swiping his hands on his jeans. “I’m sorry—I thought you would like it.” He patted his pocket like he might have a handkerchief there. “Don’t cry.”
“I’m not crying.” Ava stood and wiped the lone tear away, frustrated she didn’t have better control over her ridiculous tear ducts. “It’s just so sad. He was so young.” She didn’t even know Ellie and Edwin, so why did she feel so totally devastated?
“But they had three kids and all those years together.”
“It wasn’t enough.” Ava’s words surprised her.
“I just thought you would . . .” Rion ran a hand through his hair. “You said you liked life stories.”
Ones with impossibly happy endings. Tilting her gaze to the top of the oak, Ava said, “I do . . . I just wasn’t expecting . . .”
This. You.
Ava felt a sudden drop in her stomach. She had the strangest sensation that she knew Rion, that she had met him before that night at the stop sign. But it was impossible.
“So, how did you find it?” she asked, shaking the last thought away.
“I was hiking here last year and saw the carving on the trunk,” Rion said. “I followed the trail to the top. So, I guess I read the story backward.”
“That’s a better ending.” Two kids with the world at their feet.
Rion’s mouth lifted into a hesitant grin. “Was this a bad idea?”
Ava shook her head and stared hard at Rion, whose gaze was now averted. She squinted, trying to see the blessing. Maybe it has something to do with story. It made total sense given Ava’s desire to be a journalist.
“Why are you scowling at me like you want to hit me?” Rion said, hoisting his pack over his shoulder.
Ava’s hand flew to her brows. “Oh, I frown a lot.” Lie. Ava did her best to not frown ever since Carm freaked her out by telling her that every frown equals a future wrinkle. Although, Ava could find nothing to support her sister’s preposterous claim.
“So, how about that orange?” While Rion rifled inside his pack, Ava caught a glimpse of the same book he’d had with him the other night. Closer now, Ava could make out the details. It was a plain black leather book with white pages. But what was inside?
Rion’s voice pulled her back to the moment.
“So I brought napkins, since oranges can be kinda messy,” he was saying, “and some water and soda. I didn’t know what you liked.”
“About the orange.”
Rion froze. “You ate it.”
“Um . . . Harold, this guy I work with, he almost ate it.”
“Tell me that you saved it just in time.”
Ava laughed, glad to relieve the pressure in her chest. “Something like that.”
A few minutes later they had found a bench along the trail. The sky had faded to a pale blue with traces of the day’s last light. Rion quickly peeled the orange, shaking his head and snorting his disbelief (and maybe approval) as Ava told him the full Harold story.
He held out half for Ava. “Okay, if you don’t like it, if I oversold it, just lie to me. No, scratch that. Tell me the truth. It’s not like we’ve been working on this variety for a million years or anything.”
“You really love the orchard, don’t you?”
Rion’s eyes met hers and held her gaze for longer than was humanly comfortable. It was like some thread was connecting them in a silence that threatened to swallow them both. Ava blinked first, breaking the connection.
“How do you do that?” he said.
“What?”
“Get me to tell you things; it’s kinda creepy. Like I’ve known you forever.”
So, he felt it too.
“All those journalism classes?”
But what Ava really wanted to say was, I know the feeling. And then an idea struck her. Maybe this bizarre familiarity had something to do with the fact that he had her blessing.
“I’ve never heard of journalism classes that taught that.”
“Well, psychology too, but I go to a magnet school with a really big journalism program. It’s pretty intense. But we were talking about the orchard.” Not me.
Rion threw his gaze back to the sky. “Love isn’t the right word. It’s more . . . I don’t know, like destiny. You know”—his tone shifted to light and easy—“that thing you don’t believe in.”
