I Forgive, I Don't Forget

Chapter 10: This is WAR ;)

So here it is, guys! Chapter 10, I worked hard on it!

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 I was surprised I didn't see any NASCAR drivers pull up beside us at the rate Asher was driving. We were cruising--no speeding--down the road at nearly seventy miles per hour. I cringed at the sight of every twist and corner we turned until we finally reached a long straight road and I was able to relax. We were definitely out of town, surrounded by a long stretch of grassy green fields littered with grazing cattle. The sky was turning orange and pink, a sure sign of a setting sun. As we cruised down the road we passed by farms teeming with livestock from horses to peacocks. As long as I've lived here and probably drove this stretch of road I never noticed how beautiful it was.

The car was filled with silence as we drove into the sunset, but the silence wasn't hostile. It was peaceful, like the day we spent in that pottery shop. As I looked out the window I imagined living on a ranch just outside of a busy city. That way I could have the best of both worlds. Work in the city, doing only God knows what because it beats me, and coming home to a Victorian style house, wonderful children and a loving husband. One I just happened to imagine was Asher. Before I knew it I was dreaming.

I woke just as Asher turned onto a gravel road. We rode a little longer before he turned once again onto a tree-lined, dirt road. The nearly bare, gold and red adorned branches connected making the road resemble a tunnel. The setting sun peeked through in between the trees leaving shadows along our trail.

He slowed to a stop in front of a small, cat slide cottage hidden behind a cluster of trees.

Asher got out and opened my door for me. I followed him to the door and he pulled out his keys. I looked around while he found the right one. I felt like I had stepped into storybook. The grass, despite the weather, was bright green and littered with red and gold leaves. The birds chirped an evening song and the sky, now blue and purple, was the backdrop to it all. Up close I could see the intricate wood work along the eaves, the canopy and the trim.

The inside of the cottage was equally beautiful with exposed beams supporting the roof and ornamental carvings where two walls met; the entire cottage was made of pine wood, from the floor boards to the walls. We stepped into a short, narrow hall with two doors to my left and right. The hall opened up to the living area. The kitchen, to the left, had wooden countertops and retro appliances. A magazine and reading glasses rested beside a coffee mug on the breakfast bar, and a jacket hung from the chair. In the living room, which was to the right, the television set was on. The place looked well-lived in, so I doubt it was abandoned.

"Asher um, where are we?" I asked this cautiously in case he was still upset.

"Think of it as my home away from home," he smiled and opened the door to my left. "That's the bathroom," he closed that door and moved on to the next. "And that's the bedroom."

"How'd you get this place?"

"My grandmother lives here."  And at that moment I noticed that all the ornamental carvings in the surrounding wood were all owl forms. The eyes popped out at me everywhere and I was beginning to feel uneasy. I mean owls? Who could've thought of a creepier obsession? I walked off into the kitchen, leaving Asher behind. In the kitchen I found an owl cookie jar staring back at me. And in the living room there was a whole wall dedicated to owl memorabilia; owl clocks, owl drawings, owl pictures, even a few dream catchers nailed on the wall in a messy arrangement. All of the trinkets varied in size, shape and color.

"So...what do you think?" He asked expectantly. He now stood behind the corner of the living room that met the hall. He looked more like a boy with his grey eyes peeking from between the locks of his unkempt hair, innocent, shy, and modest.

"Your grandmother must be a very interesting woman of sorts."

He chuckled lightly, "Not exactly what I expected but don't worry, there's a method to her madness."

"I see..."

And as if he knew exactly what I was thinking he muttered, "The owls?"

"Yeah..."

"You get used to them. But my grandmother? Not so much." He went into the hallway and pulled a string that hung from the ceiling, revealing the attic. "Ladies first."

"Give me a lift." In response Asher grabbed my waist and hoisted me up and through the hole that was the attic door.

I was expecting to see a damp, cold room which is why I was surprised to see a second bedroom; a loft almost. The drywall was painted navy blue with white trim and there were skylights on front facing wall. The dark brown floorboards didn't even clash with the espresso brown furniture. On the bed was a slightly disheveled, crisp-white comforter that screamed SLEEP ON ME. I had gone from country chic to contemporary modern in less than a minute and somehow I knew this room was Asher's.

"Whoa, switch lives with me will you?"

"Glad you like it." I turned away to admire the mini art studio set up on the far side of the room, but I could feel his eyes on me. In the one corner of the room paint-splattered cabinets lined the wall in a short L; in review the whole corner was messy with can of paint scattered around, dripping whatever color they yielded and the cabinets were accompanied by an equally messy easel. I found myself drawn to the chaos.

"Do you paint?"

"A little."

A little? A little?! This boy is only fooling himself.

"Don't be so modest!" I screamed. "I've seen your skills, even if it was just a piece of clay."

"I don't. It just runs in the family, at least on my mom's side."

"Then why is a full-blown art studio in your bedroom?"

"Grams uses it when I'm not around?" He smirked.

"Likely excuse..." I narrowed my eyes at him playfully.

"Why all the questions, anyway?"

"Good sir, is that not why you brought me here?" I said in a mock British accent. I then hopped around the room pointing at various objects:

Clock, "What does that do?"  Mirror, "Who's that in there? Why's she copying me?" Bed, "What's that for?"

I knew I had said something wrong when Asher got that look on his face. He then proceeded to charge at me; seeing the oncoming attack, I lunged for the bed. 

"Oh I'll show you what it's for." Asher commented slyly. Before he could get to me I hopped off the bed and ran for the studio, picking a lovely can of pink paint.

"Hey! What's this?" I then opened the can stuck my pinky in it and prepared for battle. Just as he was coming in for the kill I smudged the paint on his face.

"Oh, this is war." I caught the glint in his eye, and made a run for it, but not soon enough. Next thing I knew I was on the floor smothered in paint matching the color on the walls.

I shot up and stepped toward Asher, "Wanna hug?"

I giggled at the panic on his face. Knowing he would fake left, I stuck out my right arm and caught him in a warm, sticky, navy blue embrace. This then started the wrestling match.

I was pinned to the floor when I heard someone enter.

"I'm home!" An energetic, elderly voice said.

 Thanks for reading, whoever is still with me sorry for the long wait. Please comment and vote! I'll love you forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever...

Plus. It would make my day. 

Love, 

LeAnn