Drawing in a ragged breath, she turned blindly toward him and felt his arms go around her, holding her against his chest. She heard the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear, his words muffled.
“Christ, Ginny…Oh God, I don’t think you know how I regret that I wasn’t there for you. Come with me. I won’t force you if you don’t want to go now, but you have to leave here one day.”
“Yes,” she said against his shirt, “I know. You’re right. I’ll go. I’ll go with you.”
It was late in the afternoon the day they reached a trail that was little more than a thin ribbon of rock overgrown in places with bright-green moss. It looked vaguely familiar, and she frowned. It was quiet here, and dark despite the narrow thread of sunlight high overhead that insistently pierced the barrier of rock and thickly intertwined branches.
Leaves brushed her face. The silence was dense and heavy, as if a curtain had been drawn over the world. There was only a faint trickling sound, distant, musical, as if all other sound had been absorbed by the lush growth of trees and vines.
As they rounded a bend in the trail, she knew suddenly where they were—back at the falls that plunged from high rock into the clear, cool basin below. The noise burst upon them like fiesta fireworks, sudden and deafening.
“Steve—?” Her voice was smothered by the noise of the falls, but he turned in his saddle to look at her. His blue eyes were remote beneath his long lashes.
“We need a place to stay for a while. It’s safe here. I don’t want you to worry, and I need to stay out of sight for a few weeks.”
His tone was soothing, as if he were talking to a child.
She was quiet for a moment, ducking a branch as they rode down the wooded trail. The drowning remnants of apathy began to lift, buoyed by hope. It was secluded here, a paradise refuge from not only the world, but her own dark memories.
They rode down the steep decline into the rocky basin formed by a volcano thousands of years before, their silence demanded by the very thunder of falling water crashing over the high black rocks to the pool below. Cascades formed by dozens of smaller rocks made a lacy veil of froth and spume that dampened the air so that Ginny’s hair curled gently against her cheeks.
Oddly, it was warm here, when the water should have made it cool. Perhaps it was because towering, jagged rocks held warmth from the sunlight that glittered on the water. Tiny rainbows arced, forming bridges across the swirling pool.
To Ginny, the falls represented a time of great contentment. She drew in a deep breath. She was glad they had come back here, where they had enjoyed each other before, like two carefree children. Whatever happened, she would always have those memories.
36
Cascading water had become a constant, soothing sound that blotted out everything else close to the pool. Ginny moved downstream a bit, slipping a little on the slick surface of rocks worn smooth by centuries of water currents washing over them. Her feet were bare; she wore the loose garments of a peon, a billowing camisa and baggy pants that reached her ankles.
Peace dwelled within this timeless valley where no one else came except birds and small mammals that peeked curiously from behind fallen logs or tangled vines. It was remote and hidden, a sanctuary from the world.
I feel like Eve, Ginny thought with a faint sad smile, after she was tricked into eating the apple.
Earlier, Steve had climbed one of the rock walls, scaling it with practiced agility while she watched. Bright sunlight had gleamed on the bare skin of his back and shoulders until he had disappeared into the brush that clung in a ragged fringe to the ledge. Ginny had watched with idle curiosity.
It was much easier to think of him with detachment now. To think of him any other way was too painful. Oh God, was it all ruined? Would she ever be able to forget all that had happened?
There was an agreement between them at the moment, a silently acknowledged pact that they would wait until the moment was right to discuss what their future held once they left this valley.
It was a tentative peace, fragile and uncertain. At night when they sat across the fire from one another, Ginny wondered what he was thinking, if he hated her for what Luna had done, if she disgusted him now. Despite his careful kindness, she knew there was something he was keeping from her. He would look away at times, a muscle leaping in his clenched jaw, his mouth a taut, hard slash.
Until her bruises, huge purple and yellow marks, had faded, he’d gone quiet every time he saw them. Silence was awkward between them, the courtesies strained and fractured, as if they’d become strangers again.
Even at night, when the air was cold and invasive, they shared blankets and body heat but nothing else.
It was difficult, lying beside him all night, listening to his deep, even breathing and feeling as if they were farther apart than ever before. Anguished, she lay in the dark and thought of what might have been, of how far they had come and how close they were to finding themselves, to finding the happiness she wanted so desperately.
Some nights she lay awake until the sun rose steeply to banish shadows and shed light into the rocky bowl nestled beneath the waterfall.
Was it all over? Was there no chance now?
It seemed as if everything she touched dissolved, even while she was trying so hard to keep it. But Steve had been right about coming here, for the past week
