I peered into his eyes, seeking the lie, but found only sincerity.
“This is strange for me, to be so drawn to someone.” His brown eyes looked startled when he said that. “You affect me, warm me.” His fingers touched my cheek. “I don’t know of anyone who could feel this and not want more of it.”
I sighed, agreeing completely. It was strange to be so drawn to each other. The sudden intensity of our attraction and connection was inexplicable, but I couldn’t deny it was there. I’d be the last to demand that everything make perfect sense. So much of my life, lately, didn’t. “You’re only here temporarily, right? Are we stupid to get involved, knowing that?”
“Choices, luv. We either regret the experiences we have, or the ones we were too scared to have.”
How could I argue with that? My entire life had been ruled by stop signs. My father didn’t trust me to make my own decisions about dating, but wasn’t it time I trusted myself?
My fingers wound over his warm hand on my cheek. He kissed my forehead and sealed an internal truce within me. I’d choose the experience. I’d allow myself to have this, which I thought was a colossal act of bravery on my part.
Finn was the first thing I’d ever done just for me.
“C’mon,” I murmured, ducking under the split-rail fence intended to keep people from treading on the delicate ecosystem of the redwood forest. “We’re out of bounds, so be careful and step exactly where I do, okay?”
“Out of bounds? Are you a closet rebel, Cora?”
I looked back at him conspiratorially. “I got permission from the park to break this one rule. I told them I was doing a story for school.” I led him through the forest undergrowth, around large sword ferns, wild ginger, and redwood sorrel that looked like clover on steroids. “But my dad has lots of rules. No dating is the new one on his list.”
Finn gave me a deep, inquiring look.
“My dad is overprotective. That’s the short answer.”
“And the longer, more interesting story is?”
I nudged his rib. “My mother abandoned us when I was five. I think it made him scared I’d disappear on him, too. Sometimes I want to be mad at him because he doesn’t trust me. Won’t give me the freedom to, I don’t know, even try to blow it. But mostly I feel bad for him because he lives so fearfully. I don’t want to go through life being so afraid of losing things that I never allow myself to enjoy them.”
“So, there’s your fear again.”
“Yes. I guess. But look how great I am at ignoring my fear today.” I bit my lip, quelling the unexpected emotions. I hadn’t realized how heavily my father’s sheltering weighed on me. It was like he trained me to be afraid.
“We have something in common,” Finn said. “When I said I couldn’t date you, it wasn’t some load of tripe. My parents are bloody overprotective as well. Makes no sense to me, but there you have it. Sometimes, I wish I had some brothers or sisters just to take the focus off me, you know?”
“I do know. I’m an only child, too. It’s unnatural to be the sun that your parents revolve around. Well, parent.” I couldn’t believe how easy it was to open up to him.
“What was it you wanted to show me? I can’t wait to see why we’re fence-hopping in a state park.”
A few feet away, sprouting from the base of a redwood, was the awesome secret I wanted to share with him. “It’s an albino redwood.” I pointed to a pure white tree in front of us. “It’s extremely special and rare. Some people say there are fewer than thirty albinos in the entire world.”
Finn reached toward it, but I stopped his hand. “They call them ‘the ghosts of the forest.’ I wanted to show you because you spoke about the ghosts inside us.”
“What makes them this way?” he asked, staring at the milky-white stems and needles. Surrounded by the world of green, the plant looked like a phantom. Eerie and beautiful. A cloud at eye level.
“Albinos are offshoots of the larger tree, the same in their essential genetics, but no one knows why they’re pure white,” I answered.
Just like I don’t know why I’m different.
I wondered: were some people made with pure white auras the way I was made pure silver? A mutation from what’s normal? I suddenly wanted very badly to talk about it. I even opened my mouth to begin, but I couldn’t admit how abnormal I was. I didn’t want to scare away the most sweet, the most normal thing in my life.
Faye had said, It’s a risk you shouldn’t take. No matter how much you trust them…
We reached the fence and ducked back under, walking out of the grove hand in hand, both of us lost in thought. It was quiet, with only the sounds of birds, the gentle hum of insects, and the occasional plod of a runner jogging past.
Above the San Lorenzo River, we ate the sandwiches I brought while I told Finn how I liked to come here during rainstorms because I had the park to myself. My own private Eden. He told me about his Eden—the eastern coast of Ireland—and I listened raptly. He loved to sail and talked about his boat like it was a lover. I learned his father was an army medic and gone most of the time. His mother, also a doctor, worked in a large hospital in Dublin. He planned to attend Trinity College in the fall. His parents expected him to go into medicine. “It’s the family occupation, but I want no part of it,” he confessed. “Music is my passion. To them, it’s just a hobby. To me, it’s air.”
We stopped talking and sat side by side, our shoulders touching, and watched the sun set through the giant trees. I gave him a chocolate-dipped strawberry. He gave me a kiss that tasted like spring.
Ten
What on earth was a caper? It didn’t even sound like food. I wheeled my cart through the grocery store, searching. How can one mystery ingredient be so vital? The answer: it’s a vital ingredient when Janelle is cooking Dad’s favorite empanadas and a Chilean summer stew to make up after their fight about me when I returned from the state park. She insisted if he continued to smother me, I was likely to rebel. He insisted he’d been taking care of me fine all these years without anyone’s help and would protect me as he saw fit.
It was uncomfortably quiet in the house after that, so I offered to get the groceries. Tired of wandering the aisles, I decided to cut to the chase and ask old Mrs. Oberman where I might find the mysterious ingredient. If they sold it, she’d direct me to it.
Mrs. Oberman shuffled toward me as I neared. Her movements were sluggish, but her smile wasn’t. “Cora, honey! How are you?” Her body looked so feeble, I worried I’d see something off about her colors, then found myself wondering if old people’s auras differed from ours, like a light on a dimmer switch, or do they stay bold and bright until the day we die?
Her aura blared at full blast, her light brilliant as a baby’s, tinged with the soft blue, green, and pink glow of an early morning in the forest. I sighed, relieved. We exchanged pleasantries, and she directed me to the elusive caper. When I passed her again a few minutes later, I started to call out to thank her, but my words caught in my throat. The man who made me feel cold, like my blood pooled at my feet when he was near, was casually talking to her. I hid behind the end cap of the aisle. One part of my brain, the one that obviously controlled adrenaline, screamed at me to run. Another part encouraged me to hide and watch to see if I could learn anything about him, and to see how other, non-silver people’s auras responded to him.
I peeked around the corner.
Mrs. Oberman peered up at him like a frightened child. There was something chilling about the way her hand grasped his arm, as if for stability. His satisfied smile sent shivers down my neck.