Underneath the Sycamore Tree(12)

I watch as the buildings and houses fade into the tree lines the further we drive away. Dad came this way when he brought me into Exeter. On the outskirts is a large cemetery on a hill and not much else other than various trees and fields.

It’s a strange mixture of urban and rural here. We’re not near the big city, but not too far away. It’s almost like the area can’t decide if it’s trying to evolve or stay the way it’s been for decades.

In a way, it’s comforting. Seeing fields, hills, and trees reminds me of home. Lo and I would go exploring in the woods behind our childhood house, the one Grandma had to move into after Dad left before we lost it to the bank. We’d spend hours climbing trees and playing hide and seek. Lo always won.

To my surprise, Kaiden turns onto a narrow road leading into the cemetery. It should probably scare me, make me nervous, something, but it doesn’t. After all, he saved me from walking back to a home that doesn’t feel like home at all.

We get to a large fenced-off clearing and he puts the car in park and shuts it off. Shoving open his door, he gestures for me to follow him out. Hesitantly, I obey, unbuckling and stepping out onto the paved path we’re pulled off to the side of. He starts walking past the fence, jumping over it like it’s nothing, but waiting expectedly for me to do the same.

Blinking, I stare between him and the chain fence separating us, noting the rust on the top and the odd and end holes throughout the rest of it. There isn’t an opening big enough for me to crawl through.

“Well?” He crosses his arms.

I blush. “I can’t jump that high.”

He sighs like I’m a burden despite bringing me here on his own free will. “Can you climb and get at least on leg over?”

Swallowing, I study the fence. I used to be part of the cheer squad at my old school. Flexibility and strength never used to be a problem for me until the past couple of years. But, I’m curious about where he wants to take me.

Nodding, I pull myself up on the fence. It hurts my tender palms and arms, and my hip pops loudly when I swing my leg over, but I pretend it doesn’t bother me when I balance on top.

I yelp when I feel two strong hands on my waist, lifting me up and setting me down on the ground like I’m a toddler and not eighteen.

“You really should have eaten dinner,” he notes, giving my body a thorough once-over with narrow eyes before shrugging and walking away.

I catch up with him and tug my shirt closer to my body when the wind starts picking up. Without any buildings, there’s nothing to block the assault of cool air against us. I refuse to use Kaiden as a wall because I think he’d snark if I even tried getting closer.

We walk for what feels like forever until I see a large sycamore tree in the middle of a field of purple flowers. It seems out of place, yet perfectly set at the same time.

Kaiden walks over to it and sits down, leaning his back against the thick trunk. He seems at peace, which is a new look for him. His body is eased as he stretches his long legs out without a care in the world.

I stare. Not just at him, but at the tree. It’s huge with its long branches and bright green leaves transitioning into yellow and orange and red that give the space a beautiful kind of life. Lo would have loved this spot. She would have dragged me out and stayed here until Mama called our names in frantic worry. Lo always wanted to be free, out in the open, surrounded by trees and plants and animals.

Suddenly, the tears that had finally stopped falling on the way over begin building again until everything blurs. Bottom lip trembling, I hear Kaiden’s heavy sigh.

“What’s wrong now?”

I answer silently what my emotions won’t let me speak aloud.

Lo was buried under a sycamore tree.





Chapter Four





Kaiden’s eyes burn my face as I feebly attempt to contain my tears. Closing my eyes and palming my lids with the heels of my hands, I suck in a deep breath and think positive things to distract my mind from Lo’s image. No matter how hard I try thinking of sunshine, good weather, and how pretty the purple flowers beneath my feet are, all I see is Lo’s headstone.

The last time I went to visit her, there’d been bird droppings and grass shavings all over her stone. I cried and worked hard under the punishing sun until it was spotless and shiny. Then I’d fallen asleep in the shade beneath the sycamore, pretending Lo was right beside me.

It was Grandma who’d found me. Not Mama. When she got me in her car, I asked where Mama was. She told me she was resting. Part of me was glad I hadn’t worried her. Another part of me hated her for not noticing I’d left to begin with.

“You need to breathe, Mouse.”

His gruff words pull me out of my memories. Cracking my eyes open, I see his blurry image where it still rests against the tree. Despite the buildup of tears, I see his frown perfectly clear. Even seemingly angry, he looks gorgeous.

“Why do you look mad?” Blinking rapidly to dry my eyes, I force myself forward until I’m next to him. He doesn’t invite me to sit or make any move, just stares up at me with pursed lips.

“Don’t do well with crying.”

Most men don’t. Like when Mr. Wilson, the man who acted like a father figure to us after Dad left, looked uncomfortable at Lo’s funeral. His face was pale as he stared at her coffin and he left before the service was over.