Infatuated (Unedited)

Chapter 12

"Art thou not betrothed?"

Still I said nothing but began to plot my escape. I don't want to get out of this water with them standing around me like vultures. I could turn, snatch my dress off the log and risk wetting it as I cross to the other side of the spring or stand here and hope that they'll soon leave me alone so I can dress and go home. Both options were soon lost to me as I hear movement behind me, glance over my shoulder and spot the man taking hold of my dress. He didn't have to speak for me to know his intention. He wanted me to get out and come after my dress. Overwhelming fear seeps into my heart as I'm left with no other choices. I'll stay here for as long as it takes to avoid these men.

The crunching of gravel and the unmistakable sound of a horse galloping near once again prompts me to look over my shoulder. This time I'm met with the blurred image of a dark figure. As he steps down from his midnight black steed his presence seems to cease the laughter of my tormentors. Without word he looks between me and each of the men, pulls off his cloak, and walks to the edge of the spring.

Rather than fear of another man with ill intentions I feel as if I can breath, as if I'm saved when he extends if hand to me. I avoided his eyes as I accepted his offer and made my way out of the water. He instantly wraps me up but I still feel shy that he can see the parts of me that I'm not able to cover with my hands. Warmth from the thick woven material silences the chill of my trembling body. I owe him. He's truly saved me and I owe him. It is only when he leads me to his horse that I turn and look up into his eyes. The deepest darkest pair of brown eyes.

I jolted awake, sitting now in lukewarm water. Instinctively I looked around the room only relaxing back when I realize I'm alone. Was I dreaming? It felt so real. More like a memory than something random my imagination could've drawn up. Every scent, the earth, the water, everything that has to do with nature I could smell and everything that was there I could see clearly. All but the kind man that offered me his jacket. Besides his lightly tanned skin and hair that was dark and wavy I couldn't make out anything else. It was like looking at someone through tears blinking hard to banish them in a desperate attempt to see clearly. The only feature that was visible to me was his eyes. Very dark and very familiar. I've seen them before. I don't know where or when but they will forever be burnt into my memory.

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Walking the long narrow corridor I suddenly felt nervous. Why is yet another mystery to plague me today. It's easy to say that the reason is due to my absence that there is no excuse good enough to justify. As I approached the opened door I stopped and took a deep breath, peeking inside before taking the final steps.

"Nan?" The older version of my mother didn't even flinch as I called out to her. She just sat on the small sofa in front of her window and continued on with whatever was in her hands. Did I really expect anything else from her? No. My earliest memories of my grandmother all include incorrect name calling or just outright being ignored. As I walked around her bed and practically stepped into her view I smiled, sat beside her, and kissed her cheek. "How are you doing today Nan?"

"Who are you?" Surprisingly she looked up at me. What doesn't surprise me is what she said.

"I'm Rayne, Nan. Your granddaughter." All I got in response was a blank expression then she went right back to knitting. Even with the photo of me 6-years old and toothless, sitting beside her on the front porch of our old house residing on the table in front of her there was no sign of recognition in her eyes.

I remember why I stopped coming to visit now and that thought fills me with guilt. She was in another home before this one. I could never visit her there out of fear that Dalton would somehow track me down. After I moved in with Lou and had a good amount saved up, I was able to have her moved and also get the records sealed. After that my visits still remained far and in between due to the emotions being around her brought me. I'm pretty sure she has no clue that my mother, her only daughter, is no longer living. I'm pretty sure that she has no clue that I'm the daughter of that daughter. It's something that can't be helped but it hurts. For years, especially when I was sitting on those cold dirty park benches I'd question what life would've been like for me if Alzheimer's disease hadn't claimed my Nan. From the stories my mom used to tell me, my Nan was a tough woman. 'Pretty as the rarest flower, tougher than nails!' she'd say with the brightest smile. There is no way a woman like that would've seen her daughter with a man like Dalton or her granddaughter on the streets.