Page 59 of Evermore: Heart of the Raven

“Cottonmouth,” Morris says, striding from the water with a dead snake clutched in one gloved hand. His head was severed by the shot, but the length of him still curls and twitches as the last bit of life leaves his body. Morris holds the venomous creature up over his head and his tail drags, disappearing below into the water. A bite from that beast would have killed me before we could have gotten back to the house. I shudder and bury my face in Connor’s shoulder. I did nearly die.

He squats down beside me as I try to regain my equilibrium. I see the gun on the ground by his foot. “That bothers me, put it away, please,” I say, nodding to the gun.

“It can’t hurt you, Lainey,” Connor says, moving to pick it up.

“Just put it away,” I demand, feeling silly for my sudden fright of guns. I’ve never been scared of a gun before. Not that I’ve ever even been around one before.

“You’re just spooked. I’ll take you back to the house,” he offers.

I shake my head. “No. I know my way. You two stay here and fish. I saw a bunch of rods and things up river a bit. I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t want to leave you.”

“Just help me get Sweet Caroline’s saddle back on her. My hands are shaking.”

“I’ll do it. You just get her settled so she can ride, Connor,” Morris says. He’s tossed the snake back into the water and I watch its now lifeless body floating away in the fast-moving current.

In a half hour, I’m back at the house. Donovan, a farmhand, takes Sweet Caroline and promises to turn her out for me. I head back inside and guzzle down two huge glasses of water and try to breathe normally. Georgia finds me in the kitchen.

“You’re back so soon? Fishing’s not your thing, is it?”

“Fishing is fine. Snakes aren’t my thing,” I manage.

“Jesus, did you get bitten?” She lays a hand on my back and does the same eye scan Connor did, checking for signs of a bite.

“No, thank goodness. Connor shot it. I guess it was good that Morris gave him a pistol to carry.”

“Morris doesn’t own a pistol, honey. Shotguns, a revolver, yes. But no pistol,” she says, shaking her head. “But Connor is never without his.”

“You mean he’s had a gun with us in that camper this whole time?”

“Probably. That seems to bother you?”

“Well, it’s just, well …” I let my voice trail away. Connor isn’t dangerous, but guns are.

“You worried he’ll go crazy and try to hurt himself or something? You don’t need to be. Connor isn’t a danger to himself or anyone around him.”

“No, no, of course not,” I stutter.

Georgia pulls out a chair at the tiny kitchen table. The worn yellow Formica tabletop feels cool on my arms as I plop down into a matching lemon-colored vinyl chair.

“How long have you and Connor known one another?” she asks. “I know it’s none of my business, and you’re not required to answer. I’m just curious.”

“Not long. We met and started this crazy journey five days later. We’ve been traveling for just over two weeks.”

“Oh, that’s a long time,” Georgia says, nodding knowingly.

I cock my head to one side and stare at her. Three weeks is hardly any length of time to really know someone.

“You think I’m nuts to say that, but I promise you it is a long time. You two have been together for three weeks, basically 12-hour days, not to mention nights? Well, that’s like 42 dates. If you think of a six-hour date, usually twice a week, that’s like you and Connor dating for …” she pauses to count on her fingers, “four or five months. Most couples know whether they’re going to be together for just a while or forever for a lifetime after about that long. Especially at your age, dear.”

“I guess I’ve never thought about it like that,” I admit.

“And living with someone in such a tight space. I’m sure he’s driving you crazy by now.” Georgia offers one of her light-hearted laughs.

“The candy thing is ridiculous,” I confess. “I mean, it’s nonstop. And there are wrappers everywhere.”

Georgia laughs her sweet, light laugh again. “I used to find little stashes all over the house. It’s a comfort food for him, I guess.”

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