“Oh. Well, I live on Amelia Island, right on the water. For now, anyway, so I guess maybe you’re onto something.”
“For now? Where will you live forever?”
“I’m not sure.” I looked back at the pictures. “Maybe there. Maybe Europe. Not on the water.”
“That’s not likely.”
“Based on your assumptions.” I felt myself smile. “What do you do anyway? Do you work? Did you go to school? Have a life? Are you just a trust-fund baby living a trust-fund-baby life?”
“Not much of a baby.” He let out a laugh. He wasn’t wrong. I didn’t want to ask how old he was, but I assumed much closer to thirty than I was. “I’m thirty-two,” he said, as if reading my mind.
“Oh. Wow. And you don’t want a wife or a family?” I frowned.
“Do you think someone would want me as a husband?”
“Uh, yes.”
He grinned at that.
“I mean, just based on all of the awful human beings who end up with families, I mean,” I said, “not that you’re an awful human being at all.”
River chuckled, his eyes dancing.
“What I mean is, I think there’s someone out there for everyone.” I glanced away to hide my fierce blush, knowing that all the makeup in the world or my olive complexion wouldn’t cover it.
“I agree. I think there’s someone for everyone,” he said. “I wouldn’t call myself a trust-fund baby, but I guess for the sake of keeping things simple, I am in the family business. I have things that I do for fun, for fulfillment, if you will.”
“Oh.” I raised an eyebrow. “What do you do that’s fulfilling?”
“You ask a lot of questions.” He tore his gaze away from mine.
I followed it and saw that Mayra was standing on the other side of the staircase, right at the entrance of the hallway that River didn’t allow me to walk through to photograph. She was just staring at us. I swallowed, hating the uneasiness her presence brought. Was she a past lover of River’s? Was that why she hated me so much? Because truly, she could have him. No man was worth that kind of trouble or hatred.
“Ignore her.” River looked at me, pulling my attention from Mayra. I glanced over at her one more time, but she was gone.
I let out a breath. “Why does she hate me so much? Is she an ex of yours?”
“No.”
“Someone you sleep with but don’t take seriously?” My heart stopped beating for a second, as if anticipating the pain his answer might bring.
“So many questions.” His mouth twitched. “Come on, I’ll show you outside and then drive you back to Pan.”
When we walked toward the door and he opened it, I felt myself breathe a little easier. He wasn’t holding me hostage after all. The fog seemed to have lifted. When I looked up at the sky, I couldn’t see the sun, but the sky was mostly clear, which was unexpected. I looked out into the distance, fully expecting to see some sign of water, but there was none of that either. It was as though it had disappeared completely. I couldn’t help it, I walked down the steps quickly and onto the lawn. The grass was impossibly green, not covered in dark sand as I’d expected it to be. I looked at the tree I’d seen last night and saw that it had green leaves covering every branch.
“Impossible.” I walked over to the tree and stared.
“Isn’t that what life is? A series of impossibilities.” River walked up beside me. I shook my head, mouth hanging open, and looked up at him.
“But how?”
“They call it the Tree of Life.” He tucked his hands into his pockets. “Some say it can cure anything. Others say it can curse anything. I guess like all sources of power, it depends on how you use it.”
“Do you believe that?” I looked between him and the tree before settling on him.
“I’ve seen it work.”
“Why not use the leaves to heal your father then? Didn’t you say he’s ill?”
“You assume he wants to be healed.”
I frowned. “Wouldn’t anyone who’s ill want to be healed?”
“My father has lived a long, fulfilling life. He’s been ready to transcend for quite some time.”
“But . . . in theory, if he were to eat some leaves or drink a tea or whatever, he’d live longer?”
“If he wants to.”
“What do you mean if he wants to?”
“If he drinks a tea with the leaves he would probably just forget the pain he’s in. It wouldn’t prolong his impending death.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not what he wants. Not really anyway.” He brought his hands out of his pockets, running his fingers through his hair with one. “People think they know what they want, but they don’t. It’s been proven time and time again. A poor person prays for a fortune, gets said fortune, and remains unhappy.” He shrugged. “Humans are the same across the board. Always unhappy. Always searching for more. Never satisfied with what they have.”