Counting the Miles

Fluffy White Sheep

FLUFFY WHITE SHEEP

“Davis!” I yell from my horse. He doesn’t answer. He reaches the top of a large hill and stops. He’s hurt. He needs space to heal. So I turn Montoya in the other direction away from Davis and walk away.

A couple of minutes later, he returns to the place I stopped to wait for him to calm down. I was writing in my journal when he sat down next to me. He kisses my forehead and says.

“I’m sorry for having a tantrum. It’s not gonna bring them back.”

“Davis, this is something no one should ever have to go through. I don’t expect anything more.”

“I’m so glad I have you to be my rock. I love you, Charlotte.” The way he says my name sounds so good coming from his lips. It feels familiar. Especially out here, where everything around me is new.  

“I love you too.” I reply. He smiles. It’s a fake one, but at least he’s trying.

We keep moving. My eyes follow the tall oak trees that are all around me. Some are tall and skinny. But most are fat. The ground is covered with their orange and brown leaves. I think about the kinds of trees I see back home. There were oak and maple and dogwood, which are my favorite. I have a large dogwood tree in my front yard. And when I was little I use to climb it. Harper would start to scream at me telling me to get down right now, while John just laughs and tells me to go higher and higher. Although, it was a small tree so I couldn’t go too far. I smile at that thought. 

I wonder why John didn’t want me to call him Dad. Maybe he didn’t want me to get too attached and some how not calling him by a fatherly name would help that extra space between our relationship grow larger. I don’t get it. He knew that I wouldn’t get adopted by the age of ten. So why didn’t he let me call him that now?

My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of my stomach. I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning. Now it’s, according to the angle of the sun, around ten in the morning.

“Geez, Charlotte! I heard that from all the way over here.” Davis laughs. He pulls out a protein bar. I turn Montoya’s head and grab the bar from his hands. Davis reaches in and takes another one out for himself. “I brought the whole box from my cupboard.”

I inhale the bar and move on.

We walk for what feels like hours, but in reality is probably only thirty minutes. Then we pick up the pace and gallop in a large meadow. In the meadow we meet up with large fluffy sheep. I stop next to one, who just keeps on munching one the green grass, not even acknowledging Montoya’s long muscular legs. I jump down from Montoya’s back and fling the reins over her neck. I take off her bridle so she can rest and graze for a while.

Davis does the same and lies down on the grass. He looks peaceful, as if the entire world has decided to be happy again.

 I take out my notebook from my backpack and join him. I start write down everything I see. The open air, the white sheep, the clear sky, the fresh grass, some with dewdrops still on them. I close my book and turn to face Davis. He’s eyes are closed. I lift my head and place it on his chest. I can feel his warmth and the motion of his breaths. It’s comforting. Up and down. Inhale. Exhale. I try to match my breathing with his. I feel his arm slip across my shoulders. We lay there, eyes closed, for a couple minutes. Then I remember the horses. We should be watching them so they don’t wonder off. I lift my head slowly and see that they are still in the same position that they were when we left them.

Davis sits up too and suddenly I feel his arms make there way around my back and underneath my legs. He lifts me up with no struggle and spins me around. This makes me laugh. My laugh is real. This is real fun. I feel my stomach start to hurt from laughing, which I haven’t felt in what feels like a long time. I can feel the stress and grief and worries, which were holding me down lift off of me. I spread out my arms and lean my head back trusting that he won’t drop me. My smile gets wider and wider as my head gets dizzier and dizzier.

I hear Davis’ laugh loud and true and fun. He drops me legs and I rap my arms around his neck to keep my balance. He stops spinning, but my feet are still a few feet from the ground. I look into his smiling hazel eyes. Eventually his lips meet mine. He places my legs back down on the grass, but keeping his lips on mine. He pulls away. I can feel his nose glide against mine and I can feel every place our lips had touched.

“In a strange way,” Davis starts, “I love this. Maybe it’s just because I love you and Jasper and this meadow and the adventure of it all, but I do. I really love this.”

I just stare at him and grin. I jump into his arms and he spins me around one last time. He flings me on his shoulder in a fireman hold and I scream. I can feel his strong muscles against my stomach. He starts to run. I don’t know where he’s taking me, but I feel safe. I feel warm. This feels like home.

He places me back on the ground. As soon as my feet touch the ground, I run to Montoya. I jump on her back and kick her sides. She goes flying. Galloping into the distance away from Jasper and Davis. I look back, my hair falling in front of my face. Davis is on Jasper and running after me. I smile. I’m free. Free from life. From rules and constrictions. I turn my head back in front of me.

Maybe that’s way some people live out in the country. With open spaces and beautiful fields. So they don’t have to worry about other people and start again. Maybe we should stay here forever. Here in the peace of the meadow and the sheep. We can set up camp and just live here forever. In hiding.

Wherever here is…I don’t know where I am. We have no way of finding that out, unless we find a town. But that means people. People are dangerous. We’re probably up on signs and billboards. We can’t go to town.

“Look!” Davis finally catches up to me, intervening with my thoughts. He points toward a huge tree with hair like stuff hanging from its branches. “It’s Spanish moss.”

“It’s pretty,” I say. I can smell the salt water in the air and taste it when I breathe. I hear rustle of the leaves as the sea wind blows by. We’re in North Carolina. The Summers and me used to vacation here until we had to sell our beachside house. It was a very tall and skinny house. With four stories and a pool. I loved it so much here. I cried very hard when we ha to sell it.

“North Carolina?” Davis asked. His eyes light up. I see his brain spinning trying to find something.

“Yeah...So?”

“I have relatives who live down here. My uncle I think.”

“Do you know where he lives?” Maybe we’ll be able to sleep in a real bed tonight. 

“No…” He says disappointed in himself.

“Well it’s a small town…maybe people know him.”

I need to get over my fear of people. Interacting with them is the only thing that can help us right now.