Page 18 of Promised to the Satyr

Two hours later, we are both covered in mud and I can’t stop grinning. “This was more fun than I’ve had in a long time.”

“Why don’t I show you how to drive and you can begin to check some of your life’s restrictions off the list.” He wipes a clump of dirt from his cheek and another drips from his horn.

I force my mouth closed. My pulse pounds and more feelings rush in. “You want to show me how to drive this Jeep?”

He nods as he finds a clean inch of shirt to wipe his eyes with. Stepping out, he offers his hand for me to climb into the driver’s seat. Once he’s seat-belted in, he tells me how to shift gears.

Before I know it, I’m driving around the field’s outer edge. I slow and downshift. Coming to a grinding halt, I hold the steering wheel with both hands and press my forehead to the top. “My father is not a bad man, but his capacity for the show of emotion is limited. He expects things of me, but I don’t think he has ever loved me. You asked if my parents were in love. Mother may have loved him, but I’m sure he only wanted her. He never mourned. I think I am like him.”

Niko’s silence is heavy in the air.

Unable to bear it any longer, I turn my head and look at him.

His eyes are filled with sympathy and maybe pity, which grinds in my gut.

I’m about to tell him that I neither need or want whatever he’s about to offer.

He says, “Thank you for sharing that. I know it was difficult for you. Let’s get you back home and cleaned up.”

On cue, a dried clump of mud flakes off of my arm. I laugh. “We should hose off before we set foot in your beautiful house.”

Something I said dims the joy in his eyes, but he reaches across and squeezes my hand.

On the fifth day, I push aside my fears and decide to open Niko’s third letter.

After two wonderful days of learning to drive, attempting to draw, and toying with writing, I can’t help but feel happy. Niko patiently showed me how to use the computer. Granted, I prefer notebooks and pens for the moment, but I like the way he teaches with patience and kindness. I like the way he does everything.

For the past two nights, I have gone to my own bed early, claiming exhaustion. It wasn’t a lie, but I’m afraid that sex opens me up too much. It’s terrifying losing total control.

I run my fingers over his scrolling handwriting. Butterflies awaken in my belly and I have no explanation for why.

Dear Astra,

Your silence is concerning but your father ensures me that you are not much of a writer and that you are thrilled (his word) with our upcoming marriage.

I shall tell you more about myself.

From time to time, I enjoy drawing. I’m enclosing a rough sketch I made of you. It is copied from my only photo of you, so forgive its simplicity. One day, if you permit me, I will do a better rendering. When I know the silk of your skin and the texture of your hair as it falls through my fingers, I will create something more fitting.

I hope you’re not offended by the personal nature of this letter. I find the closer the time of our meeting draws, the more aroused I am. Will you write or call and assure me that your feelings match mine?

Yours,

Niko

I turn the envelope over and another paper falls out. It’s folded in thirds and then in half. I open it and find myself staring back. It’s a softer version of me. A me with love in her eyes. An emotion that the real me is incapable of expressing or feeling. Niko deserves the kind of love in this picture. He deserves someone who will feel all the things I cannot.

I dash away my tears and hold the letter and picture close.

The clomping of hooves on the stairs alerts me that Niko is approaching. His soft knock has those butterflies bumping around inside me.

I swallow my strange feelings. “Yes.”

Opening the door, he pops his head in. “What would you like to do today?”

Part of me knows I should say that I’m content to sit in the house and write, and I would be, but the more vital side of me wants to try new things. “I’m not sure you can give me what I want to do.”

It’s so adorable when he cocks his head that way. “Try me.”

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