Trapped (Caged 2)

I paid the bill and took her hand as we walked back to the car.

The mood had changed, and I wasn’t happy about it at all. Tria seemed lost in her own thoughts, and I was just dreading the whole wedding thing now. If I knew Mandi at all, it was going to be ridiculous and swimming with all the high society this city could muster. I also didn’t have the slightest idea what Tria would find to wear, but I wasn’t going to ask and add to the anxiety.

Then I thought of the perfect idea to change the tone and quickly took the next exit going back up north.

“Where are we going?” Tria asked.

“I thought we’d go check out the river.”

I drove to the North Side the long way, making sure I kept my distance from anywhere I might have been seen or even recognized. As I moved farther away from town, the only people around the area were my family and people employed by them. Maybe the employees wouldn’t have recognized me anyway, but the beat-up car in the area would arouse suspicion.

Turning onto a dirt road, I hoped Yolanda’s Civic was up for the challenge. We bounced and bumped for a half mile, and the sky was starting to darken as I parked at the end of the road in a gravel lot.

“This way,” I said. I took Tria’s hand as she got out of the car and led her down the familiar path to the water. Part way there, another path headed off toward the east, and I couldn’t help but glance in that direction as we continued on. Once we got to the river’s edge, Tria gasped.

“It’s beautiful!” she said as she looked out over the water. The sun was dipping below the horizon and covering the rippled water with bright reds and oranges.

“The best view is over here,” I told her as I tugged at her hand. I took her to the base of a large hedge-apple tree and quickly lifted her into the space between its split trunk.

“Are you serious?” Tria asked as she looked over her shoulder.

“Go that way.” I pointed toward one of the sides of the trunk. “Just about six feet—it’s easy to sit there, and the branch above you is good to hang on to.”

Tria shook her head but followed my instructions. I climbed up after her and settled on the branch beside her, and we both looked out over the slowly moving water.

“I used to come here all the time,” I said softly. “It’s always been one of my favorite places.”

I pointed out a spot below us where the water from the river escaped from the bank for a few feet and then trickled back into the main flow.

“I used to bring plastic boats and float them around there.”

“How far is this from your parents’ house?” Tria asked.

Far too intuitive.

“It’s just up a little ways,” I said as I nodded toward the east. “I think technically this is part of their land though it would be the far edge. Not sure. The stables are just a few minutes’ walk down that trail we passed.”

I shifted a little on the branch to move myself close enough to touch her and still grip the branch above me. I circled her waist with my free arm as we both looked out over the water. I glanced at her repeatedly, watching her face glow in the falling sun’s rays. I felt a smile creep over my face as I looked down below us and saw a ring of toadstools under the trees.

“When I was a kid, I thought this place was magic,” I said with a laugh. “I thought faeries lived here.”

She laughed with me as I pointed out the ring and told her about faerie circles.

“I was always afraid to touch them because they might come and get me.”

“Did your friends play here, too?” Tria asked.

“I didn’t have too many,” I said, shrugging. “I don’t have any siblings, and there isn’t exactly a neighborhood around here. It was mostly just me. Sometimes the staff would bring their kids around, and I would play with them, but mostly it was just me. That is, until Ryan arrived on the scene, but we were too old to play games like that when he came into the family.”

“How old were you then?”

“Thirteen,” I said. “Ryan’s a year older than me. Michael is my dad’s younger brother, and Ryan’s mom is a lot older than he is. He doesn’t remember much about his real father.”

“What happened to him??

??

“Heart attack,” I said simply. “Ryan was only five or six when it happened. He only remembers bits and pieces of the time when his dad was around.”