Unbound (10 page)

The
earnestness of his words rendered us both silent for a time and we walked
unspeaking until we reached the front steps of my building. Feeling awkward, I
wrapped my arms around myself to stop the shiver that was building, due in part
to his words and in part to the cold night air.

“Thank
you for joining me this evening, Rachel.” He sounded so formal I thought he
might bow. Would I ever know him well enough to understand what he was
thinking, covered as it was by civility?

“You’re
welcome. I had a really good time.” An astonishing, exhilarating, bizarre,
remarkable, unforgettable time, I thought
.
I tried to smile, but found the gesture too flippant, too contrary to what
he’d just shared.

He
nodded, but looked hesitant. “I’d like to see you again tomorrow, but I’ll
understand if you need some time to think this through.”
 
He regarded me with his usual grim
expression, all traces of the carefree Eaden of late afternoon gone. My
heartbeat accelerated, the butterflies began to wing around in my stomach
again.

Only
gone for now, I hoped, only for now. “Eaden, I –”

He
held his hand up to stop me. “I do not want to make assumptions about our
friendship, Rachel. What I can offer you is limited in many ways.”

I
reached out and touched his arm lightly, trying to meet his eyes.

“Eaden,
maybe I haven’t been clear.” His face was impassive, but his eyes narrowed as
if he readied himself for a blow. “You’re already my friend. There’s nothing to
think through.”

Did
I only imagine the relief in his eyes? His smile was stiff, but sincere.

“Tomorrow
then,” he said, resolved. “Is ten o’clock too early?”

“No.
It’s perfect.”

He
leaned forward and brought his lips to my forehead. “Sleep well.”

“Good
night.” My heart skittering with the touch of his lips, I walked up the stone
steps to the entrance with the sure knowledge that he would be there if I
turned around, making sure I found my way safely inside.

Turning
anyway and cursing myself for doing so, I waved one last time before ducking
through the door. Giddy, I manoeuvred slowly up the stairs to our apartment,
trying to comprehend what was simultaneously the most conventional and the most
unusual evening I’d ever had.
 
My
cheeks grew warm as I remembered the feel of his arm around me during the play
and I realized I was humming something under my breath. I stopped. Although I
was unconvinced that he looked at me with anything more than fondness, I had to
admit that tonight there had been some evidence to the contrary. Enough to give
me hope. Could it be possible that Eaden might think of me in the same way I
thought of him? I sighed, feeling hopeless and elated and miserable all at once.
 

Getting
ready for bed, I paused as I tugged my worn-out Nirvana tee-shirt over my head,
so old it was more grey than white; Eaden’s explanation of immortality echoing
in my mind. How on earth did I fit into his existence? It had seemed as if he
were telling me that, if I chose, there was a place for me in his world, as
exceptional as it might be. His words had held warning, were meant to caution
me, but I knew with certainty that any choice I had was simply pretence. My
life had been entwined with his since the day I was born, for reasons that I
only partly understood. Poking my head through the shirt, I focused on what I
sure of. Whether our relationship was conventional or not, there was no chance
that I was going to give up now, not after waiting so long to find him. He was
the safest thing I knew.

Climbing
under my thick duvet, I suspected it would be hours before I would be able to
fall asleep. So much had happened since I got out of bed this morning; I
expected a night of tossing and turning, trying to integrate so many new pieces
into the puzzle. I was wrong. Within minutes of closing my eyes, I fell into a
peaceful, dreamless sleep.

At
exactly ten o’ clock, Eaden arrived at our door bearing hot coffee and a warm
smile. Easing off the lid, I looked inside and smiled back. It was black, exactly
the way I drank it.

Leaving
the building, I automatically began heading down the street in the direction of
the downtown core. The way I always walked to work.

Behind
me, Eaden cleared his throat. “Rachel?” He was holding open the door of a sleek,
tiny black sports car, the kind I didn’t know the name of, but recognized as
expensive. He looked amused at the way my mouth fell open a little.

“You
drive?” I was dumbfounded. I walked back towards him and the glossy black
automobile.

He
raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I drive. I’m immortal, not Amish.”

Chagrined,
I climbed in and sank into a plush leather seat. He closed my door gently and
came around to the other side.

“This
is your car?” It was hard not to stroke the seat with my fingertips.

 
“Possession is nine-tenths of the law,”
he said.
 

Incredulous,
I simply stared at him. Had he stolen it?

His
smile was crooked. “That was supposed to be a joke, Rachel. Of course it’s my
car.” He glanced at me, puzzled. “Why are you so surprised?”

“Well...whenever
I see you, you’re always walking.”

“That’s
because you’re
always walking.”

“Oh,”
I said, seeing his point. My grin started on the inside and radiated out. “This
is a very nice car,” I said, belatedly.

“It
is, isn’t it?” He looked boyishly proud. Immortal or not, Eaden was definitely
still male. This was inordinately pleasing for some reason. Driving a car was
such a normal thing to do, even if you did live in the city.

“It
looks expensive.” The front dash was an array of red blinking lights and cool
chrome detailing. I wondered how it was possible for Eaden to buy a car at all.
Hadn’t he said there was no record of him in the system? Although I didn’t have
my licence yet, I was pretty sure you couldn’t get one without a birth
certificate.

Eaden
seemed to understand the direction my thoughts were taking. “Investments,” he
explained as we pulled out of my street. The engine was so quiet I couldn’t
hear it. “I have access to a number of bank accounts, registered in names that
are untraceable to me.”

But
Eaden’s mood seemed to dim a little with even this slight reference to his
immortality and I resolved not to bring it up for the next few hours. The
traffic became lighter as we turned away from the core and merged onto the highway.

Feeling
light hearted, I leaned forward and turned the radio on, searching for a song
that I recognized. Usually I was very nervous in cars, a back-seat driver
regardless of what seat I sat in. Mute with terror, my hands were almost always
bloody at the end of any drive, the imprints of my fingernails clearly embedded
in my palms. Yet once again, Eaden’s presence seemed to be having its typical
effect. Rather than feeling frightened, I felt uninhibited.
 
The speed was exhilarating, actually. I
felt as if I were flying. Sensing Eaden’s eyes were on me, I turned to meet his
steady gaze. He seemed at a complete loss.

“What?”
I grinned at him.

“You
look happy.”

“That’s
a bad thing?”

“On
the contrary, I’m just relieved. I was under the impression that you weren’t fond
of cars.”

Was
there anything he didn’t know about me?

“I’m
not usually,” I said. “This is good though,” I admitted, surprised. He was
still looking at me, and I felt my cheeks burn under his stare. “I’m really
okay,” I said.

“I
believe you, Rachel. It’s just wonderful to see you this way.”

I
looked out the window hoping my bliss was not quite so obvious as it felt.

We
left the highway, heading north out of the city, towards the escarpment. The
autumn colours here, a bit further north, were at their absolute zenith. Like
fireworks suspended in time, the forest was giving up everything it had before
succumbing to its inevitable loss.

We
drove for a stretch, farmers’ fields and forests flashing by until Eaden turned
onto an unmarked dirt road that led us even farther up the stony climb. Rocky
terrain bordered us on either side, the bright trees and sumac lining the road
like torches.
 
Cresting a hill, we
left the trees behind and drove beside a large verdant pasture nestled on the
plateau. Fields of sun-soaked meadow were broken only by the occasional glimpse
of white fence, jutting up against the steep sides of the escarpment. Directly
ahead of us the road ended and a large, rust-red building came into view, a
peaked black-tiled roof and white crosses on its double door hinting at its
purpose. Pulling up beside it, Eaden eagerly jumped out and opened my door
before I had even managed to free myself from the seat belt. I bit my lip as I
looked around. It looked like a stable, and stables usually meant horses. My
stomach dropped.

Eaden
seemed to read my mind. “You’ve never ridden before?” He nodded in the
direction of two horses I could see now quite plainly in a penned area adjacent
to the building.

“You
tell me.” My apprehension was making me a bit peevish.

He
grinned at my irritation. “As fascinating as you are, I did manage to tear
myself away from you a few times during the last two decades. I told you, there
are a number of things I don’t know about you.”

My
face grew hot again. How was it possible to blush this much? When I was with
him it felt as if all of my nerve endings were exposed, everything was raw and
too responsive. I was like a Christmas tree that someone forgot to unplug, each
branch shiny and sparkling under his gaze.

My
smile was rueful. “Well, in that case, no, I’ve never ridden.” In truth, horses
scared me silly. I mean they had pretty large teeth for herbivores. And if they
didn’t like you, you would end up on the ground.

As
we walked towards the paddock, I eyed them nervously. The biggest horse was
jet-black, sleek and handsome, with a thick dark mane and tail that swished
from side to side. The other horse was classic white, not as large, but more
graceful than her companion. Eaden turned to me when we reached the part of the
fence nearest the black horse and with a flourish made the introductions.

“Rachel,
I’d like you to meet Gus. Gus, this is Rachel.”

Reaching
up, he patted the black horse soundly on the neck. Gus whickered in response,
and I jumped back with a yelp, causing Gus to prance a few feet away, his head
held high, eyes rolling.
 
Eaden
laughed and shook his head. Wrapping an arm around my waist to keep me from
bolting, he gently guided me back towards the fence. With his other hand he
extricated a small red apple from his jacket and presented it to Gus. With only
a moment’s hesitation, Gus accepted the bribe and moved closer to the fence
again, chomping in satisfaction.

Eaden
reached up once more to stroke his neck, and inclined his head, encouraging me
to do the same. Tentative, I stretched a shaky hand up to Gus’s neck and was
pleased to find that his coat was soft and warm. I stood for a few moments,
gently patting Gus while Eaden hovered close by. I wasn’t sure which one of us
he was trying to reassure more with his presence.

Curious,
the striking white horse that had been further afield pranced over towards us
to investigate.

“Jealous
as ever, aren’t you, Lilly?”
 
Eaden
laughed and fished out another apple. He gestured towards me with his hand,
silently offering the chance to feed her, but I shook my head. They really did
have big teeth.

Stroking
her long, graceful neck, he crooned to her. “Never mind,
an capal ban,
she is only shy, like you.”

Behind the stable I spotted a larger barn that hadn’t
been visible from the driveway. It slowly occurred to me that Eaden might
actually own these horses, that he might actually own this land. My view of him
seemed to be based entirely on him trailing behind me. How dense I’d been to
assume his life was limited to what I’d seen of it.

“These are your horses, aren’t they?”

“They are,” he said, regarding them affectionately.

Flummoxed, my earlier question resurfaced. “But how
can you own anything? Yesterday, you said that you didn’t even really exist.”

He leaned his forearms against the split rail fence,
looking out over the paddock. “I don’t. You’d find no public record in any
country for Eaden James MacAlister, no matter how long you searched. There are aliases
that have been created specifically for me, to make all of this possible.” He
gestured around him at the horses, the stables, the land. “It’s as I told you,
Rachel. We’re denied almost nothing in the physical world. If money can buy it,
I can have it.” His face expressionless again, he seemed absent, but with
visible effort, he shook his head and shifted back. “Would you like to go for a
ride? I can show you the escarpment.”

I eyed the horses dubiously. Summoning enough courage
to touch them was one thing. Riding would be an entirely different matter.

He saw my hesitation and smiled. “What if we ride
together? Gus can handle us both, can’t you, Gus?” he said, slapping him
good-naturedly on the rump. Gus snorted in response and tossed his head.

“Did you name him?” It seemed a very casual name for
such an impressive horse, and quite unlike Eaden’s usual decorous manner.

Leading Gus out of the paddock through the gate, he
presented him to me. “His full name is Caesar Augustus,” he said. “I call him
Gus for short.”

That’s more like it, I thought.

“And Lilly?”

“Ah… her full name is Eilidh Isobel MacWilliam.”

“Who was that?” I wasn’t familiar with the historical reference.

 
“My
grandmother,” he said. Without warning, he placed his hands around my waist and
hoisted me up easily onto Gus’s back. It happened so quickly, I had no time to
be frightened, but a gasp escaped from my lips once I found myself seated.
Eaden swung himself up in front of me, and reaching back, casually wrapped my
arms around his waist.

“Hang on tight, Rachel,” he said, looking over his
shoulder “You’re safe.”

I took a deep breath. “I know.”

With a gentle nudge of his knee we set off towards the
dirt trail at the edge of the pasture.

The path we followed led us higher onto the
escarpment, the ascent slow but steady, the views of the autumn vista more
breathtaking from this perspective. Occasionally, through breaks in the trees,
the pale blue sky would become visible and I could see turkey vultures as they
swooped and glided on air currents, only a little way above us.

Either Eaden was an exceptional horseman or Gus was
very well-behaved because the ride was far smoother than I’d feared it would
be. Even so, the lower half of my body inevitably began to give me some clear
signals that a break was in order.

We stopped for a rest near a small clearing off the
path that overlooked the quilted farmlands far below. I felt queasy as we approached
the edge – we were much farther up than I had thought. I kept a firm grip
on Eaden’s arm as he led me to a flat rock several feet away from the
precipice. As soon as I was seated, I scooted as far back as I could from the
drop, pulling my knees up to my chin and hugging my legs.

Eaden’s smile was patient, kind. “The longer you sit,
the easier it will be,” he said.

I raised an eyebrow in disbelief. But I did have to
admit the view was breathtaking. Touched by the late morning sun, the trees
scattered on the fields below were aflame, contrasting sharply with the darker
browns and greens of the earth and vegetation. Trying to dispel my vertigo, I
took a few long, deep breaths and felt my muscles loosen a bit, until finally,
feeling more composed, I turned to look at him.

 
“Eaden
James MacAlister,” I said, breaking the silence. It was a statement.

He stared out over the landscape, watching the broad-winged
birds swoop and dive. “Alister was my father’s name.”

I rested my cheek on my knees and gazed at him. “Thank
you.”

He nodded in understanding, eyes still on the aerial
performance of the vultures.

W
e sat side by side, silent
again. I was suddenly very aware of the space that existed between us, as if
the space could be felt, as if I could feel him despite it.
 

Turning
his gaze towards me, his eyes seemed to reflect the intensity I felt building
inside of me. “Why did your father call you Rabbit?”

Glancing
down at my hands, I shrugged, my heart aching a little to think of the
affectionate nickname my father had given me. “When I was little, my dad used
to read me
The Velveteen Rabbit
. It
was my favourite story. I couldn’t sleep without it.” But I paused, because
this wasn’t the whole truth, and it seemed necessary not to hold anything
back.
 
“Also, I startle pretty
easily. My Dad teased me about it. He said I was, um,” my cheeks grew hot
telling him this, “twitchy like a rabbit.”