Page 41 of Holy Water
I turned to the group and raised my voice.“Okay, everyone!We’re heading to the river tonight.I want to do a cleansing ritual.Nothing heavy, just… intention, presence, and water.Let’s walk together.”
A few people cheered, someone clapped lazily, and others just gathered up their things.Blankets, wine bottles, a singing bowl.The usual suspects.
Julian fell in beside me on my right, Zephyr on my left, and together we made our way across the field in a slow procession.The air was thick with midsummer warmth, crickets starting to sing their evening song.The golden light made everything feel suspended—like we were walking through honey.
Julian looked over at me.“So is there, like, an actual ceremony or do you just splash river water on our foreheads and call it a day?”
I looked at him out of the corner of my eye.“Depends.You want holy water or something blessed by cow gods?”
As if summoned, a nearby cow mooed softly.
“Hey!”someone called from behind us.It was Gavin, barefoot and carrying a wooden flute.“I found some excellent magic mushrooms in this field last summer.Right near all the cow patties.Real spiritual.”
Zephyr made a face.“Thanks for that image.”
Julian gave me a sideways grin, and I felt the faintest flutter in my chest.
We arrived at the riverbank just as the sun dipped low behind the trees, casting a rich amber glow across the water.The Shenandoah was calm tonight, its surface shimmering with late evening light.Fireflies dotted the edges of the field, blinking in and out of existence like shy little stars.
I stepped forward and cleared my throat.My heart was hammering.Not just because of Julian.Because I wanted this to matter.
“Can I have everyone’s attention?”
The group quieted, a few people dropping into cross-legged positions on the grass, others standing barefoot with their eyes already closed.
“We’re here tonight for a reset,” I began, voice steady, soft.“Whatever we’ve been carrying—fear, guilt, bitterness, regret—I want us to let it go.Even if it’s just for a moment.Even if we pick it back up tomorrow.For tonight, I want us to give ourselves permission to feel clean again.Inside and out.”
I looked over at Julian.He was watching me, completely still.
“We’ll take a moment to meditate in silence.Then we’ll each step into the river and let it carry something away.”
A few nods.One audible mmm.The sound of wind in the leaves.
I took a breath, deeper this time, and turned to Julian.
“Let’s begin.”
ChapterFourteen
Julian
The first thing to go was the shoes.
One by one, people kicked them off—sandals, boots, a surprising number of barefoot hippies who’d never bothered with footwear to begin with.The grass beneath our feet was damp and warm, like the earth itself had been soaking up sunlight all day and was now radiating it back through the soles of our feet.A few people giggled as they tugged off socks, some with toe rings and chipped nail polish, others with mud-streaked ankles and anklets made of string and beads.
I hesitated.Not because I didn’t want to participate, but because I wasn’t sure what the hell I was participating in.Still, I untied my boots.Peeled off my socks.Felt the squish of grass and river silt underfoot.And then looked up—
—at him.
Jude stood at the river’s edge, his palms raised slightly, like a priest about to bless the congregation.He looked back at the group gathered on the bank with an expression that was somewhere between nervous and radiant.And, holy hell, it hit me: he was beautiful.Not just good-looking—though that too—but luminous in a way that made my chest feel too tight.Like he was reflecting something I’d never been allowed to believe in.
“Water,” Jude began, voice clear and slow, “is the oldest cleanser.The one element we’ve trusted since before language to wash away what we can’t bear to hold anymore.”
I swallowed a laugh.Not because it was ridiculous—okay, maybe a little ridiculous—but because I didn’t trust what was happening in my chest.That twitchy, rising hum that didn’t feel like irony.Or even cynicism.
It felt suspiciously like peace.
Jude stepped forward, sleeves rolled to the elbows, and lifted a small bowl filled with river water.He dipped a sprig of rosemary into it and walked along the semicircle of us gathered on the bank, flicking droplets in our direction like some benevolent woodland pope.
