Drifter

Prologue

“There’s something about the way the world looks through a camera that makes me happy. Don’t you think?” I murmured, trailing my fingers through the feathery summer grass, gazing out at the sepia-toned landscape through the old camera. 

“That’s my favourite thing about you, Callie. You find beauty in everything, even the view through a glass lens.” Jeremy lifted his Daguerreotype camera and snapped a candid photo of me looking down at my hands.

“It’s like a whole new world. A softer world. Where nothing bad could ever happen.” I threaded a handful of daisies together into a haphazard daisy-chain. Jeremy took it off me and placed it on my head, tilting it just so before snapping another picture.

“You know, I’ve never asked you what you do with all these photographs you take. The ones of me in particular. You’re not obsessed with me, are you Jem?” I bantered.

“I’m not obsessed, I’m smitten. There’s a difference.” He chuckled, his chestnut brown hair ruffling in the gentle breeze. “Completely awe-struck.”

“Don’t tease, Jem.” I smiled. “It isn’t nice.”

"I'd never!" Jeremy grinned sheepishly. "You are the most sensational woman I've ever known. You're just so..." He gazed at me wistfully, tucking a stray curl of hair behind my ear. "Perfect."

I wrinkled my nose and shook my head. "Now I know you're teasing." I smirked, tapping the point of his nose with my index finger.

“Oh Callie,” He breathed, shaking his head with a bemused smile. “There’s something about you.”

"Something like what?" I asked, absently twirling a strand of hair around my finger.

"You're different from the others. You're...effortless. When we're together, I feel as free as I ever have, as though we're completely separated from the rest of the world." His chocolate coloured eyes sparkled, and the tan of his skin was set off by the white dress shirt he wore, the first few buttons undone, collar hanging open.

I grinned at him before falling back and lying in the grass, staring up at the warm blue sky, my golden hair spread around me like a halo. "You're a poet, Jeremy Fernwood."

"And you are my muse." He threaded his fingers through mine and gazed down at me, the sunlight turning his hair bronze.

My breath caught in my throat. He was so handsome. “Jem, I never want to leave.”

“Where do you plan on going?” I detected a hint of alarm in his voice.

I rolled onto my side and propped myself on my elbow, the white lace of my dress rustling around me. “You know I can’t stay.” I sighed, trailing my fingers along the edge of the tattered picnic blanket. “That was never part of the plan.”

His warm brown eyes flickered down at the ground, and then back to my face. “I suppose I thought…the plan might have changed.”

I softened my gaze and placed my hand over his, smiling up at him. “I wish it could. I wish I could just lay here in this field with you forever, making daisy chains and watching the clouds. But that’s not how the world works.”

Jeremy frowned and dropped his eyes to the picnic blanket, grasping my hand in his own. We didn’t speak for a long while, breathing and hearts beating as one. When he finally met my gaze again, there were tears in his eyes. “Please stay.”

I tried to smile, tried to hold back the tears, but I couldn’t. A tear slid down my cheek and dripped from the edge of my jaw. “Jeremy…” I sighed.

Before I could react, he’d taken my face in his hands and was pressing his lips against mine, roughly, desperately. I gasped, surprised, but after a moment I began kissing him back as our tears mingled on our cheeks. He tasted of apples. He was warm. He was solid. He was there.

For a moment, everything was perfect.

And then he was gone.