Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 150878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 754(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 150878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 754(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Emily nodded over to the guitar as she turned her marshmallow over the fire, the outside turning golden. “Who plays?” she asked.
“I do,” Vincent said. “Or, well, I’m learning. It’s funny, I strapped that on my back as we started off, thinking I’d ditch it somewhere once I was sick of lugging it, but…”
“The music has been important to us.” Martha smiled at Vincent. “Even from a beginner. Do you play?” she asked Emily.
“I do.” I could practically feel Emily vibrating with the hope that they’d ask her to play, and so when Martha picked up the guitar and leaned around the fire to hand it to Emily, I was relieved on her behalf. Emily took it, running her fingers lovingly over the strings and then stood, walking to a spot near the front of the fire where she had room to hold the guitar without bumping anyone. She sat down on a smaller section of fallen tree and began to strum.
I felt the collective stilling as everyone realized how good she was, that dreamy look coming over her face that I recognized well.
She began to sing, and from my peripheral vision, I saw Prisca and Vincent lean forward very slightly, pulled toward her in a way I’d seen others react as well. The song was filled with soul and sadness, and I knew immediately it was one of her originals. Or maybe I’d heard it long before, floating on the breeze and mingling with the scent of citrus.
Did you hum it once, Emily? When you were just a girl, your head full of musical dreams?
She met my eyes through the flames, and I felt a lump form in my throat. I felt briefly hypnotized by the fire and the music, my heartbeat growing loud in my ears. The moment felt ancient and new, and scary in some way I couldn’t even define. And yet despite all my churning emotions, I couldn’t look away.
I was captured, by her beauty, but mostly by her spirit, and maybe it was me or maybe it was her, but I hadn’t seen her shine like this even when she was outfitted in sequins and glitter. She’d shrugged off the nails and the hair and the shimmery makeup, and yet somehow, she glowed all the brighter for it.
I was falling… God, it had happened quickly. Or maybe it had happened far too slowly. But either way, it made me feel both breathless and terrified. Like one of those ships floating alone in uncharted water.
Emily tipped her head slightly as though she’d sensed the minute change in my demeanor as I’d realized the depth of my feelings for her.
The night had descended, and a trillion stars blanketed the sky, the moon sitting on Emily’s shoulder as though it too was leaning in to listen. Her voice was rich and velvety and though I didn’t look around—couldn’t pull my eyes from her—I knew everyone else was as awestruck as me.
Every corner holds a story, every room a memory
Now the silence only echoes with where you used to be
Can we ever be ourselves again in that perfect place and time
The wishes and the daydreams when your promises were mine
I’m searching for a way back to the place I used to know
Because happiness can crumble fast and pain goes oh so slow
In the loneliest spaces, where the darkest shadows gather
I’d find you there, and I’d stay if you’d rather
If I could go back, I’d find you in the dark
If I could go back, I’d find you in the dark
Later, as the fire began to die, our bellies full of marshmallows, Emily strummed one last chord, the quiet of the night falling flat in the wake of her dwindling voice. Prisca yawned and Martha smiled down at Ady, who had fallen asleep on her shoulder, a gentle smile on the young girl’s face.
“That was incredible,” Vincent said quietly. “We’ll never forget it. I mean it.” He sounded slightly choked up as if she had just shown him that there were still good things in the world, and he’d clearly needed the reminder.
Emily looked tired, but peaceful and pleased and we said good-night to them as Emily and I made our way to a spot next to a grouping of pines. Our eyes met in the dim light of the stars and without discussing it, we zipped our sleeping bags together and then climbed inside, our jackets under our heads like pillows. She scooted toward me, and I wrapped her in my arms. “That was beautiful.”
She snuggled closer. “Thank you.”
Maybe the silent agreement to sleep together the way we’d done the night before was easier with the others sleeping nearby, because it offered an element of safety. I wanted her with a desperate aching neediness. But the fact that strangers were close provided limits that would be easy to break had we been alone. But even so, I knew in the last two nights we’d crossed a line, and that if one of us didn’t put a halt to it, it was only heading in one direction from here.