Page 1 of Trapped: Between Sky And Wind

Prologue

Awhile ago that now seems like forever ago, you confided in me your dream. Remember, Bren? You were dreaming of living in a secluded house surrounded by huge corn and grain fields, with nights so quiet they would be filled only with the chorus of cicadas. You also dreamed of having children. A girl who would run through the yellow wheat fields, laughing, followed by her older brother who would try to catch her. Just for fun of course. The Catcher in the Rye, I thought at the time because we had read the book in school. You pictured him always taking care of her, like brothers do. Or should do.

Yes, brothers always want the best for their little sisters. Today I know this, but for a long time, your dream made me sad because it made me think of my own brothers. Especially Ethan.

Dreams. They can be peculiar.

Amarok of the Navapaki said a man should guard his dreams like an Indian guards his most sacred possession in his medicine bag. Sharing dreams might rob them of their power. I’m glad we didn’t follow that. Your dream was mine—and mine was yours for a long time.

I often think of our days in the forest among the Navapaki, their wisdom and stories. And also of Amarok, who you never should have been jealous of. And had you lived in another time, with its traditions and customs, your deed would have been glorious, at least to your tribe. They would have celebrated you. You would have kidnapped the strange blonde girl, maybe on horseback with a bow you made yourself, your face painted with red and black war paint.

I don’t know why but the thought makes me smile. That act alone would have given you the right to possess the girl. To own me.

Later, when I have more strength, I will light the candle I poured for you. Or I’ll ask Liam to do it. In my mind, its light will reach you and I will whisper to you that part of your dream has come true. And maybe, just maybe, you can hear me.

Today is a day for rejoicing even if you’re gone.

Chapter

One

My heart is pounding as if it is going to burst out of my chest. I don’t know why I let go of Bren’s hand and ran to the side of the RV. Now I stand there, staring at the red and blue lettering that stretches from the rear to the driver’s cab. Travel America. For a moment, I feel as if some alien force is sucking the air out of my lungs. I’ve longed for this moment for so long, but now it’s as if a hundred colorful memories are swirling inside me. Tall, mossy-green spruce trees, a steel-blue sky, and a pitch-black night. They tell me my story: the story of the kidnapped girl who fell in love with her kidnapper between pine trees and ermines. A whole summer in fast forward.

At first, I believe the strange tingling in my stomach is excitement. Or joy, like earlier in the visitor center. But the longer I stand in front of the motorhome, the clearer the feeling behind this tingling becomes. It’s fear. Not prepared for this, I inhale deeply after not breathing for a few seconds.

Bren is standing behind me like before when he lured me into his RV.

I’m Bren, not Jack. Sorry, do you mind getting in the back? Hold still! I won’t hurt you!

The whispers in my head are like an echo from the past. A shiver crawls up my spine.

What’s going on? Confused, I rub my arms, feeling the delicate fabric of my blouse which is the same I wore a year ago.

I read the letters on the side one at a time as if every secret of our history lies in between, as if all I have to do is remember it to find it again and fend off the fear. T-r-a-v-e-l A-m-e-r-i-c-a.

My journey ended in the Yukon.

“Do you regret it yet?” Brendan’s deep voice is soft like wings flapping in the twilight. That one sentence and the slight melodious way of speaking are still so familiar to me. He’s afraid I might change my mind and doesn’t want me to know. My heart contracts with longing and pity now that I’ve heard part of his story from Jayden.

Wanting to hug him, I turn with a smile but something holds me back, probably the sight of the motorhome. “Of course not,” I reply. “It’s just that…”

Bren studies me carefully and raises an eyebrow. “Just—what?” His dark eyes sparkle but are still gentle.

Why am I suddenly afraid of the things that weren’t a problem all spring? For the last few months, I’ve only thought about the good times with Bren as if there was no room for the rest. It seemed as if I had completely forgotten the fear of the first few weeks, as if my longing for Bren had veiled it. Now, all of a sudden, it seems like someone ripped the veil off, but I don’t want Bren to know.

This is ridiculous, Lou! You’ve been fine for months and today, when it matters most, the sight of his RV makes your emotions run wild!

“It’s nothing.” I shake my head as if in confirmation.

He takes a step toward me. “You’ve never been good at lying.” Slowly, as if not wanting to startle me, he frames my face with his hands. His fingers smell of the forest, firewood, and wolf. Suddenly, my mind goes blank, I’m so captivated by the tenderness. As if we had never parted. “I never told you,” he whispers down at me from above, his cool breath brushing my lips. “But when you fib or get nervous, red splotches appear on your cheeks. One of them looks like Africa.” He runs his thumb down the side of my face. “Right here. That’s why I was so certain at the time that you’d taken my lighter.”

I giggle and feel the fear of the old memories fading. This is Bren. The Bren who let me go. That’s the only reason I could come back to him. Even so, I still feel tiny compared to his size and strength, so I stand on my tiptoes. “Maybe it’s just this place, the twilight, and the RV. It’s just like it was a year ago.”

“You wanted it that way,” he reminds me but doesn’t let me go. “It was your idea.”

“I know.” I tentatively wrap my arms around his waist and he pulls me into a hug like a protective cocoon. It seems like he wants to keep out everything that could sunder our love. I longingly breathe in the scent of his hoodie. Needles, smoke, wilderness—and Bren. God, how I’ve missed him these past few months! I am extremely happy that he showed up.

Still, can love be like this? A mixture of palpitations, desire, tenderness, and fear? Can you even love someone the way I love Bren?

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