One evening Niko and I take a walk between the soybeans and the sugar beats. The sun has finished its work for the day, blowing one final breath of purple-red light as it goes. Gnats bustle in their little social spheres while a whip-poor-will sings from the east.
This is the moment Niko chooses to get down on one knee.
“I dreamed about this farm, Em. I dreamed about this life, but I never dreamed of you. I couldn’t have thought it without knowing you. Couldn’t have imagined needing someone like air. You came anyway. And you saved me.”
There is no diamond in this proposal, only promise. In a box he’s whittled himself is a daisy with its stem braided over. I want him to make me one every day, those work-roughened fingers gentle with flowers.
“Marry me,” he says.
Joy beats in my chest, not with an urgency, no need to escape. There’s only the steady pleasure of a life lived without walls, without fear.
I might be air, but I’m breathless now. “I’m the one who needed you. To breathe me. To take me in and let me back out. To make me feel alive.”
He doesn’t answer me with words. He does it with his hands, his mouth. His whole body, pressing me down into the dirt that we work, that we own. The dirt that we grew from like the plants that sway around us.
* * *
Thank you for reading WHO WILL SAVE YOUR SOUL, a story inspired by the Jewel song of the same name! Turn the page for the next dangerous bedtime story…
BEDTIME STORY
Skye Warren
Jessica is on the run when her car breaks down with her son in the backseat. A small town sheriff pulls up behind her, but he can’t be her knight in shining armor. He definitely can’t know her secrets. Not while she’s on the wrong side of the law.
CHAPTER ONE
The youngest fairy stepped forward and said, “The princess shall be the most beautiful woman in the world.”
Jessica
I swipe at the tears on my cheeks, grateful for the pitch black outside. My eyes feel puffy, nose runny, but at least no one can see me like this. Yeah, that’s good. One point for optimism, negative two thousand for the vortex of depression tugging at my toes.
Optimism. The secret weapon in a single mother’s arsenal. Ky’s running a temperature? That means extra cuddle time. The water bill’s bigger than usual? We would just have to make those last two hot dogs in the fridge last.
Then Ky’s dad had showed up outside our apartment.
I clench both hands on the steering wheel, so tight I can feel my heartbeat inside my fingers. That’s okay, though. Optimism. I can make complete and utter terror look good.
A green highway sign flashes briefly in my headlights. Province.
Working in a diner means I’ve heard a lot of random conversation, especially from people passing through. The name Province. registers as a small town outside Tanglewood. Which means I’m not nearly far enough away to be safe.
The truth is I’ll never be far enough. Never really be safe.
So much for optimism.
Is the town big enough for me to hide? If only for the night?
I can’t see past the twin domes of my headlight, the black tar texture visible despite the dark night. It had been an hour since I left Tanglewood city limits. I hoped to be farther by now.
Maybe I should have stopped to make better plans.
Should have booked a bus or even a plane. I couldn’t risk it, not with Stefano outside my door, demanding to see his son. The moment the little bar in the test turned pink, my life changed. It stopped being about survival and became about something more. About a life for my child, free from danger, from violence. From fear.
Something fluttered in my chest, something like hope.
Stefano found the test in the trash can, and he had lost his shit. Beaten my so badly I was afraid I would miscarry. Then he had kicked me out of the house. And even then, even clutching my stomach, my face bruised and bloody, it was a blessing.
A blessing, like the small child sleeping in the backseat.
At least he doesn’t know how afraid I am right now, my heart thudding against my ribs, my sight blurring with adrenaline and exhaustion. He doesn’t know how it feels to be hit, to be used, to be given as a gift by his own father. And if I have my way he never will.
The car jolts into the road, pulling a short scream from me. Only a pothole. I’m jumpy and way too tired to be driving. I check the rearview, but Ky’s eyes are still closed. I hope he’s dreaming about the dragons, like the light-up toy he clutches in his small fist. They’re fierce. They don’t need to pack up their belongings in the middle of the night and drive toward nowhere. They don’t need to be afraid.
The bright side. There’s always a bright side, no matter how dim.
Oh, I know. There are very few times in a girl’s life when she could make this statement with complete certainty: things could not possibly get worse.
Red and blue lights flash in the mirrors, spilling light onto the windshield.
My heartbeat speeds up, almost frantic with its warning: danger, danger.
Oh God. Was he from Tanglewood? Had Stefano found me already? He had so many cops in his pocket. Why else would a cop pull me over? I wasn’t speeding. The registration sticker might be a little old, bust he couldn’t see that in the dark.
My stomach clenches—a hard ball of anxiety that rolls back and forth between make a for it and follow the rules. Following the rules hasn’t gotten me very far in this life. My finger throbs as if to remind me of exactly what rules had done.
Running won’t work, not on this empty stretch of road that I don’t recognize, with the needle closer to E than F. If the cop isn’t dirty, he’s not going to give up if I ignore him.
And if the cop is dirty, then I’ve already lost.
CHAPTER TWO
The second said, “She shall have a temper as sweet as an angel.”
Jessica
My hands shake as I steer the car to the shoulder. The cop pulls up behind me, the lights still spinning, throwing blue and red onto the worn cloth seats. I watch the driver’s side door of the cop car, but it doesn’t open. Seconds tick by, each one pushing the knife deeper. What if he’s calling Stefano right now? I shouldn’t be sitting here, waiting.
A wave of dizziness washes over me, turning my palms slick with sweat.
I don’t think I can go on much longer, but God knows I can’t stop. I’m in between the proverbial rock and hard place. The rock, a dangerous mob enforcer who thinks he owns me. And the hard place, a cop stepping out of his car and approaching my door.
“It’s going to be okay,” I whisper to Ky.
He’s still asleep, and I’m the only one who needs reassurance right now.
I roll down the window and stare at a black belt and beige fabric.
A man leans down, one hand on the top of the car, the other shining a flashlight directly into the car, blinding me. All I can see is white. All I can taste is metal. I’m two seconds away from kicking the car into drive and pressing the pedal to the floor. It’s not safe for Ky, but nothing is, definitely not a dirty cop working for the mob.
“Good evening, ma’am. License and registration.”