Truth be Told

chapter 1

The rain beat down on Aspen’s tent as she stared up at the ceiling, mentally taking stock of her supplies. Her herbs and candles needed replenishing. her food was low, and she needed to refill her water jugs. Her ropes were good, but it was getting cold for her light sleeping bag, and she was low on matches. She needed to start swapping out her wardrobe, scant as it was, for something more suitable for a mountain winter.

Lightning struck once more outside, and she knew she wasn’t sleeping tonight. Storms and trauma induced night terrors didn’t mix well for her. She got up and shrugged on her raincoat to begin packing away her supplies into her truck, Old Red.

She drove along the muddy gravel road, thankful her brothers had insisted on all terrain wheels, without knowing her destination. She pushed forward knowing she was lost. Just as she saw the lights of a house in the distance, her truck jerked and began to spin on the wet road as her tire popped. She cussed as she felt the impact with the embankment.

“f**k!”

She climbed out to inspect the damage and began cursing again. Her front end was buried above the wheel in mud. Her truck wasn’t going anywhere. She grabbed her day pack, and began walking down the road.

The rain came down so hard, she could barely see a foot in front of her, but somehow she saw the distant haze of the house. She stumbled toward it, falling several times with the wind pushing her in every direction. She felt debris slap and slice her cheeks and the rocks dig into her hands and feet as she moved, wishing she had put her moccasins on.

After what felt like hours, she finally stumbled up to the door, grateful for the covered porch that shielded her from the monsoon. She knocked as loudly as she could in her exhausted state, then leaned heavily on the door facing. She raised her hand to knock again just as the door opened.

With the light behind him, all she could tell was that he was tall with broad shoulders and long dark hair.

“Please, my truck...blow out. Stuck.”

She wavered on her feet then began to fall as she mumbled the words. Strong arms caught her and swung her up.

Connel carried the dark haired girl to the bench just inside the door.

What in the world is this girl doing walking barefoot in a storm?

“Here, sit. Your skin is ice. How far did you walk?”

She nearly groaned. Connel. Of all the houses for her to find, she found Connel.

“Not sure,” she rasped out. Her throat felt like it was on fire as Connel felt of her.

“You already have a fever. Where are your…”

“I don’t wear shoes.”

He shook his head as he lifted her once more, catching a glimpse of her face. He almost froze. Aspen? She laid her head over on his chest.

“What’s your name?”

“Sarah.”

There was no hesitation. She had been using the name for six months now. Ever since she was released from the hospital and went into hiding.

He carried her upstairs to a bathroom and turned the hot water on.

“Can you undress yourself? You need to get warm.”

She nodded, one side of her dark, viking-braided hair falling over her face, as he reached in the shower and turned the water on then pulled a large towel from a cabinet.

“Everything you’ll need is in there. Call if you need help.”

He quietly left and sat on the bed in the room attached. There’s no way this dark haired girl can be Aspen. Aspen’s eyes are heterochromatic, one blue, one purple. This girl has dark greenish eyes. Aspen was thin but strong; this girl was frail with a scar crossing her face. Aspen, my Aspen, was loud and confident. This girl was lost, broken, scared. No, this was not Aspen. it couldn't be, could it? He heard a sob from the bathroom and his heart wrenched. Aspen doesn’t cry. This girl had been through so much, she was breaking down in his bathroom.