Page 7 of The Compass Series

KENNEDY

S omething about nature always made me feel at peace, something about the way the trees grew of their own accord and leaned in toward the sun for kisses of light.

Something about the way their branches waved and danced with the rhythm of the wind while their roots stayed solidly planted in place spoke to me, the way the fresh air smelled crisp with a mixture of florals and greens.

The way the birds sang…I loved the songs they sang at the start of each spring, revealing the way they were awakening to a new beginning.

I loved how the birds moved through the spaces of nature as if they belonged no matter where they were, how they moved freely without restraints.

That was all I’d wanted in life, to move freely as the birds while still having my roots placed solidly in the ground.

It sounded ridiculous—the idea of both flight and steadiness—but my dream was to belong in a place yet still be free.

I’d been wandering through the forest behind my house for the past forty-five minutes in search of a place to unwind and write down my wishes, my dreams, and my hopes.

I hadn’t left any type of roadmap back to my house and hoped I’d be able to find my way on my own. Worst-case scenario? I’d sleep beneath the trees. It wouldn’t be the first time, and I doubted it would be the last.

When I pushed my way through a few branches, I was surprised to come upon an open field, one free of any trees and filled with flowers of all kinds. The flower that stood out the most was the one that took my breath away.

Daisies.

Hundreds upon hundreds of vibrant yellow daisies seemed to have been placed there on purpose.

My eyes flashed with tears as I tried my best to control my breathing pattern.

In the middle of the field was a white bench, and I couldn’t help but find myself walking down the manmade path toward it.

It was beautiful. The way the sun peeked through onto the flowers and made them glow was breathtaking.

I couldn’t think of a better place to sit, breathe, and write.

So I did exactly that.

I began scribbling in the notebook, losing myself as I poured out any and every feeling that came to mind. I didn’t have a clue how much time passed as I moved the pen across the paper, and I didn’t care. I was more concerned with getting my truths—no matter how messy they were—down on paper.

When the afternoon sky began to darken, the solar lampposts interspersed throughout the daisies began to light up the space, making everything feel that much more special.

“What the hell are you doing here?” a voice barked my way, making me leap from the bench. My pen and notebook went flying from my grip, landing amongst the flowers. I turned to see a man standing behind me and a wave of nerves crashed into me.

“Oh, hello. I’m Ke?—”

“I didn’t ask who you were,” he cut in, his voice low and stern. “I asked what the hell you’re doing here.”

He was a well-built man. His shoulders were broad, his biceps were impressive, and his smile was—well, nonexistent.

And his eyes? I got lost in those dark eyes that matched the sky at midnight.

I knew it was ridiculous, but I could’ve sworn I’d seen those eyes before.

Maybe in a dream, or perhaps in a fantasy, but either way, I felt a pull toward the harsh stranger.

I knew those dark irises that drank me in, and the way he tilted his head toward me, completely perplexed, made me feel as if he perhaps knew me, too.

But from when?

From where?

“Do I know—” I started, but I was quickly cut off by his harshness.

“Are you deaf?” he scolded.

Maybe I didn’t know him. I’d have remembered knowing someone as rude as him and would have reminded myself to stay far, far away.

“No. No, not at all.” I hurried to collect my journal and pen that had gone flying a few moments ago.

As I stepped forward, flustered, I tripped over my own feet and stumbled, trying to catch my footing.

“Careful!” he called out, his voice a mixture of annoyance and worry—not worry for me, obviously. He seemed more concerned about the daisies.

Thankfully, I didn’t fall. I did my best to tiptoe through the flowers as I grabbed my things. “Sorry. I was wandering through the woods when I?—”

“Trespassing.”

“What?”

“You were trespassing. This land is private property.”

I snickered a little as I hugged the book to my chest. “Yes, I heard, but?—”

“So you knew?”

“Well, yes, but?—”

“There are no buts. You heard and disobeyed the law. Remove yourself from my property before I have to get law enforcement involved.”

I huffed, stunned by his words. “Is it really that serious? I was just trying to get some fresh air and explore and?—”

“Trespassing,” he cut in— again .

“Stop cutting me off!” My face was growing warm from his attitude as anger began bubbling up inside me.

“I will once you’re not on my property.”

The man with the most intense, sad-looking eyes was beginning to get under my skin. How did he think it was okay to be so rude to a person he didn’t even know? He was being so blunt, harsh, and cold.

I decided to ironically call him Mr. Personality, seeing how his was ever so charming.

“You don’t have to be so impolite,” I grumbled, shaking my head in disbelief.

“I wasn’t harming anyone or anything by being out here.

The idea that people can own nature is a completely ridiculous concept anyway.

These trees were here before you were even born, will be here long after you’re gone, and still you are trying to claim them as yours. That’s insane to me.”

“I suppose you’re fine with strangers wandering into your house unwelcome then.”

“That’s not the same.”

“Wasn’t the land the house was built on there before you were born? Won’t it be there after the house comes down and you’re gone? But I guess people trespassing in your space is different because it’s yours and not mine.”

“Your sarcasm isn’t appreciated,” I snapped, speaking firmly despite my nervousness.

I began to step forward to exit the field of flowers, and accidentally crushed a few daisies. He leaped toward me.

“Careful!” he shouted.

He bent down to the ground and began trying to repair the damage I’d caused.

The grimace on his face turned into a full-blown frown as the daisies lay limp in his grip.

His hands were so big it looked as if he were a giant playing with miniature florals.

His lips moved slightly as he muttered something under his breath, but I couldn’t discern what he was saying.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you,” I stated, my heart still lodged in my throat from my nerves.

“Probably because I wasn’t speaking to you.”

“Right. Sorry. Also, I’m sorry about any damage I caused to your flowers.”

He mumbled beneath his breath— again . You know how there was Cesar Millan, the dog whisperer? Well, currently, I was dealing with Mr. Personality, the human whisperer—not because he had a profound way of understanding humans, but because all he did was freaking whisper.

“If there’s anything I can do?—”

“Just go,” he stated, his voice low and controlled.

“No offense, but you have a terrible attitude.”

“No offense, but I don’t give two shits what you think about me.”

“Asshole,” I muttered.

“So you’ve heard.”

“Heard what?”

“About my role in this town’s fucked-up story,” he grumbled. “I’m the town asshole. Just living up to the part.”

“I can see you take it seriously.”

“I’m a professional.”

“Hopefully, you’re just a small part in this town’s story.”

“No small parts in a small town, just cliché small minds. I’m sure you’ll fit right in. Now, if you could do me the pleasure of getting the hell off my property, that would be grand.”

Wow.

Okay, Mr. Personality.

He took his role to heart, a total method actor—cool. I could get behind someone who took their acting career seriously, no big deal. And boy, was he good. He deserved an award for his performance. I believed every arrogant comment he dished out.

If Louise, Kate, and Mr. Personality were the highlights of this town, I was in for a treat.

He didn’t look back up at me. Those dark, mysterious eyes didn’t lock with mine again. He kept his stare on the daisies with such a scowl on his face one would have thought I’d stepped on his loved one and crushed them to death.

I muttered another apology with no response then began my trek back to the house—well, I tried to find my way back.

When I ended up making a circle in the woods, I found myself back at the field of daisies.

Mr. Personality was sitting in the middle of the field on the white painted bench, and he released a weighted sigh when he saw me.

“Go straight this way to my house. It will take you to Merry Road. Hopefully, you can figure out where you live when you get to a main road.”

“Right. Of course. Thank you.”

He didn’t say another word.

As I walked around the block to find my way back to my property, I couldn’t help but laugh at the fact that Mr. Personality lived on a street called Merry. He was far from merry. Scrooge Avenue seemed much more fitting.