Edge of the Ravine

7

Chapter Seven

      I didn't know how to truly handle Alec when I got into the car and he grinned widely at me, like I was some new puppy he had found. Forcing myself to stop clenching my hands, I smiled tentatively back at him. Somehow his eyes glowed even more than before and he turned towards the man driving the car.

     "We can go now, Harold," he announced. I kept my head down as the man glanced at us through the review mirror.

     "Where to, Mr?" asked the elderly gentleman. There was a hint of amusement in his tone and I surmised that this was not Alec's first act of rash decision making.

      It took me a minute to realize he was asking me. My eyes were intently focused on my hands as I buckled my seatbelt. Only when a few seconds of silence had passed did I raise my eyes to see them staring at me. Harold looked even more amused but Alec's expression held a bit of impatience.

     "Uh... um. I... I don't... I usually walk," I stammered, unsure of what to say. The nearest road crossing the tracks was nowhere remotely close to Amelia's valley. So it was impossible to direct Harold to where my great-aunt held me hostage.

    "Well, where do you live?" Harold asked gently.

     "Due east. Between the ridge and the train tracks," I answered timidly. My eyes shot to Alec's and darted away just as quickly as I added, "just south of the woods. About a mile south of your road."

     "Well, alright then. Fasten your seatbelt, Mr. Baldwin," Harold said, just as if it was a perfectly normal day.

     "Just take us home, Harold. Nobody's expecting him right away. Right, Oliver?"

      I blinked uncertainly, caught in his wide blue eyes. Then my shoulders lifted slightly as the car pulled away from the curb. "I've only got an hour. Any longer than that and Amelia will get suspicious."

     "Amelia?" Alec questioned, his nose wrinkling as if the name left a horrible taste on his tongue. "Who's she?"

     "My great-aunt. And guardian." My voice was so low that Alec had to lean in to hear me better.

      When my words registered, he sat back slowly and studied me with narrowed eyes and a thoughtful expression lingering on his face. At last, a small smile pulled generously on the corners of his mouth and I felt again as if I was some poor creature he was eager to help. And the truth of it is: I was.

      I was exactly as poor and as helpless as he thought me. And that's why I needed him so much. Why I have always needed him.

      Alec didn't attempt conversation with me for the remaining ten minutes of the drive. It was as if he could sense my discomfort. Could realize that, without his words floating in the air between us, I was less likely to perform a panicked barrel-roll out of the car.

      At last, we pulled into the driveway of his house and I could feel my eyes widen in appreciation. Hidden amongst the trees, it was easy now to see why I had not found it from my hilltop perch. Made to appear like a log cabin, the three-story house resembled a semi-pretending to be a child's toy. With large bay windows and a stone fireplace, this home was nestled into the hillside and I could almost imagine sliding down the hill and landing on the roof.

      Suddenly, as we stopped before the front porch, a glimmer of light caught my eye and I turned my head to stare out of the driver's side window, past Alec's knowing smile, at the trees closet to the house. There, hanging from the branches of one of the broader trees were a number of glass bottles hung by some form of twine. In them rested three or four white flowers, kept barely alive by the water in the bottom.

      It was such a small thing, really. The act of someone creative and kind. Someone who enjoyed beauty and appreciated the  joining of Mother Nature and man. To everyone else, it would seem perhaps a childish thing. But to me, it was an act of love from the heart of a dreamer.

      Turning to Alec, I could not help but hold my whole heart in my eyes as I stared into his cerulean gaze. For he was the one who held such beauty, and the one who had enough love to share.