I grinned. “I like that plan.”
Our hands swinging between us, we walked down the hill toward town. Tristan pointed out various landmarks to me—a tree he used to climb when he first arrived on the island, trying to see across the ocean; a steep hill he and Joaquin had once raced down on bikes before crashing into each other at the bottom; the spot in the park where he and Krista had picnicked when she’d first learned the truth about Juniper Landing and her role here. I sensed how much Tristan loved this place—not just his mission, but this island.
Downtown Juniper Landing was bustling, full of people headed to the docks for dinner or strolling through the park with ice-cream cones. The trilling music of a flute wafted out through an open window somewhere as screen doors squeaked and people laughed. Everything seemed so peaceful, and the grass beneath our feet glimmered from the moisture left behind by the fog.
“And this is where I was standing the first time I saw you,” Tristan said, pausing in front of the general store.
“You remember that?” I asked with a blush.
“I’ll never forget it,” he said, sounding nostalgic.
I laughed suddenly.
“What?” he asked, squeezing my hand.
“I still can’t believe you kissed me,” I said.
He took a deep breath and blushed. “I just finally decided…”
“What?” I asked, biting my bottom lip. “You decided what?”
He lifted one shoulder and looked me in the eye. “I decided that you’re more important.”
For a second I couldn’t breathe, but in a good way. There was so much meaning in that one sentence, so much surrender and trust, it actually took my breath away.
I was just rising up on my toes to kiss him when his eyes flicked past me and he tensed. I turned to see that Nadia had just walked out of the general store and now stood rooted to the sidewalk, a stunned expression on her face. My mouth went dry as her eyes slowly trailed down to our hands, still clasped between us.
“Nadia,” Tristan said.
Her dark eyes were like daggers. “Unbelievable,” she said, stepping off the sidewalk. “So much for the rules, huh, Tristan?” she yelled, throwing her hands wide as she walked backward across the street.
She grabbed a dirt bike that had been tossed on the grass in the park and quickly pedaled away, heading down toward the beach. Tristan sighed.
“I’m guessing that’s not good,” I said quietly.
“No, probably not,” he replied.
I was about to ask him about Nadia, about what exactly had happened between them and what she had meant the other night when she’d confronted me—when I glimpsed the weather vane from the corner of my eye.
Instantly, all the activity around me faded to black. All I could see was the golden swan, sitting up there fat and proud atop its arrow. The arrow that was pointing south.
My vision grayed. I grasped his arm, the dizziness hitting me so hard I thought I might go down. “Tristan,” I gasped.
He turned to look, and his jaw went slack.
“It…it can’t…” I stuttered. “It can’t be. That doesn’t mean…Aaron didn’t go to the Shadowlands.”
A line of concern formed between Tristan’s eyes. He seemed to be weighing his response. Weighing it for far too long.
“Tristan!” I shouted. A couple who was sitting at a table nearby turned to gape.
“Come here.” Tristan pulled me gently but firmly around the corner at the end of the block, away from the prying, curious eyes of the visitors. I pressed back against the shingled outer wall of the general store, my heart pounding desperately inside my chest.
“This isn’t happening. It can’t be happening,” I told him.
“I’m sorry,” he said firmly. “But it is.”
“No!” I wailed. “He’s a good person. You should have felt the regret and sorrow coming off of him tonight when he talked about his father. There’s no way he could have ever done anything awful enough in his life to warrant being sent to the Shadowlands.”
“I’m sorry, Rory, but this happens sometimes,” Tristan said calmly, soothingly. He ran a hand over my hair, then rested it comfortingly on my shoulder. “We think we know these people, but—”
“But nothing!” I shouted, flinging his hand off me and pushing away from the wall. “We have to help him. We have to get him out of there. We have to—”
“No!” he spat.
I stopped short, surprised at being shouted at. Tristan looked away, but I wasn’t sure whether he was ashamed at having barked in my face or taking a breath because he was so angry.
“We can’t,” he said more calmly.
“What do you mean, we can’t? There’s been a mistake. There must be something we can—”
“No one ever comes back from the Shadowlands,” Tristan said ominously. “Or the Light. Once it’s done, it’s done.”
My eyes brimmed. “But Aaron’s—”
“Even if we could get him out of there, we wouldn’t,” Tristan interjected, his jaw clenched. “The coins are never wrong.”
I pressed my hands into my forehead, unable to comprehend, unable to accept what he was saying. I had brought Aaron up there and told him he was going somewhere to be happy and at peace. I had sent him on his way with that trusting smile on his face. He’d told me I was a good friend. He’d
“No, Tristan. No!” I cried, backing away from him. “This can’t be right. We have to do something. We have to!”
“There’s nothing we
Imaginings
It’s happening. It’s finally, finally happening. It had to be this way, of course. He had to go. A person in my position needs a few sacrificial lambs. And isn’t it always more powerful when that lamb is special? When it’s cared for? When it will be missed?
Rory thought he was headed to the Light, whatever that means. I imagine it’s different for everyone, whatever a person’s version of heaven would be. If what you loved in life more than anything was your family, you’d spend forever in some great, big resort, surrounded by them, having huge dinners every night filled with conversation and laughter. If all you cared about was sports, you’d spend eternity attending Super Bowl games and World Series finals and Olympic events, and whomever you’re rooting for would always win.
When I picture the Shadowlands, however, there is nothing. Nothing but blackness. You’d feel alone and scared and sad and lost forever, always wondering why you’ve been abandoned, always searching for some speck of light you’ll never find. In the Shadowlands, you’d be cold. Not just in-need-of-a-blanket cold, but truly and utterly, painful-to-the-bone cold. The kind of cold no one on earth has ever felt. The kind of cold that breeds despair and desperation.
Not that I’ll ever know for sure. Because I have found a way out of Juniper Landing, out of my own personal hell. And now that it’s started, it’s just a matter of time before I am free.
The balance
