myself saying this without a care in the world. It didn't bother me that I just met her, that she might consider me insane. After all, how many men blurt that out in the first fifteen minutes after meeting a woman?
“ I know, Cole. I love you too, ” she said to my amazement.
“ This is crazy, ” I said, smiling. I was ecstatic, almost unable to sit still in my chair.
She placed her hand on top of mine. “ Cole, I don't have much time. Please promise me you'll go straight home from here. Please ... don't go back down the embankment. ”
Now I saw dread in those brown eyes, the golden speckles so full of doom. “ Why? Is something wrong? ” She couldn’t possibly know I had a pocket full of drugs—enough that, if I took them all like I’d planned, would send me off to the afterlife I felt I so sorely deserved. Then something she’d just said registered in my brain.
“ What did you mean when you said you didn't have much time? ” I searched her eyes for some hint, some measure of reassurance, willing those flecks of gold to sparkle again.
“ My cab is here. ”
“ Forget the cab. ”
“ Cole, I will love you forever. You are a kind, and gentle man, very capable of giving love and being loved . Don't fool yourself into thinking you aren't. ”
“ What are you talking about? ”
“ You will love many, just as I've loved you. ”
“ Loved? What do you mean loved? ”
“ I wish I could tell you more, but I can’t. If I do, then this will be for nothing. ”
The cab arrived; she kissed me lightly on the cheek, and got in without another word.
All what, “ be for nothing? ”
I was a fool to think I could win her affections in only thirty minutes. She was gone.
I walked, my head hung low as I fingered the pills in my pocket. I stopped in front of the antique shop Carena mentioned and decided to go in, maybe ask the storeowner who she was or where she lived and I could have another shot. The store was empty.
“ Hello? ”
No one answered. I looked around and an old portrait in an antique gold frame caught my eye. I picked it up. Carena? I turned it over. There was an inscription on the back.
Carena Murphy, age twenty-eight, 1878.
That was the day my great-great-grandmother saved my life.
The Water of Leith
Without question, she would die. If not by the hand of her master, then surely by her own. One more day of squatting by that stream with her hands in that frigid water and Naomi thought she would go mad.
How had this happened? How had fate taken such a turn? It was stupid really. Plain stupid. Barbus was a w retched man, full of promises and lies , f illing her head with hope, making commitments he had no intention of fulfilling . He was to marry Naomi and share his dreams with her. Instead, Barbus only wanted to possess her , n ever caring what Naomi wanted, or how she felt.
At first, she’d tried to please Barbus , but that got her nowhere fast . S he feared all the beauty she once possessed was now hidden behind rags and buckets full of dirty wash water, and a worthy suitor would never admire her again. She would forever be Barbus ’ slave. Someone he could intimidate with brute strength. Someone he could belittle with criticism. Someone he could gain pleasure from only to give back nothing in return but pain.
Naomi knew in her heart that this was not her destiny. This was not who she was meant to be. How had she allowed herself to be kept captive for so long? She had knelt by that stream everyday now for the past three weeks, scrubbing and scrubbing that old brown fleece trying to make it turn white until her knuckles — raw, red, and chafed with cuts — no longer resembled any part of her hands.
Like every other day for the past three weeks, Naomi sat on the hard cold rock, dipping the wool in the flowing stream, pulling it out and rubbing it against the ragged stone , mumbling to herself, “ Please turn white today. Please turn white. ”
Out of the corner of her eye,
“ I know, Cole. I love you too, ” she said to my amazement.
“ This is crazy, ” I said, smiling. I was ecstatic, almost unable to sit still in my chair.
She placed her hand on top of mine. “ Cole, I don't have much time. Please promise me you'll go straight home from here. Please ... don't go back down the embankment. ”
Now I saw dread in those brown eyes, the golden speckles so full of doom. “ Why? Is something wrong? ” She couldn’t possibly know I had a pocket full of drugs—enough that, if I took them all like I’d planned, would send me off to the afterlife I felt I so sorely deserved. Then something she’d just said registered in my brain.
“ What did you mean when you said you didn't have much time? ” I searched her eyes for some hint, some measure of reassurance, willing those flecks of gold to sparkle again.
“ My cab is here. ”
“ Forget the cab. ”
“ Cole, I will love you forever. You are a kind, and gentle man, very capable of giving love and being loved . Don't fool yourself into thinking you aren't. ”
“ What are you talking about? ”
“ You will love many, just as I've loved you. ”
“ Loved? What do you mean loved? ”
“ I wish I could tell you more, but I can’t. If I do, then this will be for nothing. ”
The cab arrived; she kissed me lightly on the cheek, and got in without another word.
All what, “ be for nothing? ”
I was a fool to think I could win her affections in only thirty minutes. She was gone.
I walked, my head hung low as I fingered the pills in my pocket. I stopped in front of the antique shop Carena mentioned and decided to go in, maybe ask the storeowner who she was or where she lived and I could have another shot. The store was empty.
“ Hello? ”
No one answered. I looked around and an old portrait in an antique gold frame caught my eye. I picked it up. Carena? I turned it over. There was an inscription on the back.
Carena Murphy, age twenty-eight, 1878.
That was the day my great-great-grandmother saved my life.
The Water of Leith
Without question, she would die. If not by the hand of her master, then surely by her own. One more day of squatting by that stream with her hands in that frigid water and Naomi thought she would go mad.
How had this happened? How had fate taken such a turn? It was stupid really. Plain stupid. Barbus was a w retched man, full of promises and lies , f illing her head with hope, making commitments he had no intention of fulfilling . He was to marry Naomi and share his dreams with her. Instead, Barbus only wanted to possess her , n ever caring what Naomi wanted, or how she felt.
At first, she’d tried to please Barbus , but that got her nowhere fast . S he feared all the beauty she once possessed was now hidden behind rags and buckets full of dirty wash water, and a worthy suitor would never admire her again. She would forever be Barbus ’ slave. Someone he could intimidate with brute strength. Someone he could belittle with criticism. Someone he could gain pleasure from only to give back nothing in return but pain.
Naomi knew in her heart that this was not her destiny. This was not who she was meant to be. How had she allowed herself to be kept captive for so long? She had knelt by that stream everyday now for the past three weeks, scrubbing and scrubbing that old brown fleece trying to make it turn white until her knuckles — raw, red, and chafed with cuts — no longer resembled any part of her hands.
Like every other day for the past three weeks, Naomi sat on the hard cold rock, dipping the wool in the flowing stream, pulling it out and rubbing it against the ragged stone , mumbling to herself, “ Please turn white today. Please turn white. ”
Out of the corner of her eye,
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