The Man In the Forest Part 9: The End

She planned to stop only briefly at her house for a rest and to check on the chickens and Flora before continuing on into town. But when she arrived, she saw another horse in the barn which she recognized.

She dismounted, tying Ichibod to the pasture gate, and went inside. Tom was standing in her living room, staring at the mural in awe.

“I was coming to see you,” she said, and Tom jumped. He looked around at her, clearly surprised.

“Honey…what?” he looked back at the mural, “What is this place?”

She stepped up beside him and stared at the mural. It was complete except for Laknir’s face, which she had left blank. And as she looked at it, she began to cry.

“Honey,” Tom murmured, and moved to embrace her, stopping himself at the last moment, as though unsure. She took that last step herself, moving into him, wrapping her arms around his middle, and crying into his chest. She felt his arms envelop her, stroking her back as she cried. She quieted after a time, her head throbbing and her throat raw and sore. She had cried more in the last two days than she had in her entire life. She leaned back to look up into his face, reaching up with both hands to draw him down to her. The kiss was hesitant at first, and then it blossomed. Warmth radiated out from her belly, spreading throughout her body. Laknir’s kisses had been all fire and sparks: consuming. But Tom’s kiss filled her, comforted her, made her whole. And she knew she had made the right choice.

“Tom?” she murmured.

“Yes?” he answered, sounding slightly dazed.

“Can we go now? I don’t want to stay here.”

Tom pulled back so he could look into her face. Whatever he saw there kept him from asking all that he was burning to know. He nodded, and together they went out of the house.

Ryan never saw Laknir Lodge again. Tom took a small group of friends to pack up her few belongings as well as the chickens and, with Flora in tow, headed back to the town. A cat watched them from a nearby tree, and he was such a curious animal Tom was tempted to ask Ryan about him, but he didn’t.

He did ask her about a dozen times if she was sure she didn’t want to go back.

“I’ll go with you,” he said, afraid that she was giving up her home for him. “I would live on the moon if it meant I could be with you.”

She smiled, and shook her head. “No, I can’t go back there.” He eyed her carefully, but still didn’t ask any questions.

They sold the chickens and Flora to a small farm on the edge of town, and Ryan moved in with her mother and sister.

She was very quiet in those first few weeks, but then, she’d never been overly talkative and her mother tried to just be happy her daughter was home and safe. She spoke to Tom the most, though she still said nothing about her time in the woods or about the mural she’d painted. And Tom made her laugh, and the laughing began to get easier.

She loved Tom, she knew that. But she hadn’t realized just how…attached she had become to Laknir. She missed him like one might miss a hole in their heart, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized it was the ease with which she’d loved Laknir that she missed the most. Loving him was not scary as loving Tom was. She could lose Tom, and that terrified her.

She fought every day to allow herself this love for Tom, to keep herself from shutting it out the way she had before. And, to her surprise, every day it got easier.

Many months after she left Laknir Lodge for good, a small cottage on the far side of town came up for sale. Tom took her out the see it.

“Do you like it?” he asked, after they had taken a turn through the house and garden. She looked around at the simple space, then out the window to the unkempt garden. Beyond, she could see rows and rows of plowed fields. It was on a little hill just off the road to the city, and there were neighbors within walking distance. She could just barely see the tops of the forest trees way off in the distance.

“Yes,” she said, smiling up at him, “I do.”

He smiled back with relief. “I was afraid it would be too far away from the forest,” he said.

She shook her head slowly, “No, it is just the right amount of far away.”

A year later, they were married. She moved into the little cottage with Tom, and set about putting the garden to rights. Tom had given up on the university saying that he’d only gone to put his mind off his broken heart, and instead worked with his father as a carpenter. Ryan began painting dowry chests again, and found that she could enjoy the work now. She also did the occasional commissioned portrait, learning to flatter the subject without compromising too much of the truth in her art. Animal portraits came into style, and she began making painting after painting of dogs and horses and the occasional cat, which she much preferred to human subjects, even when the cats stared at her as though they could see right down into her soul.

She was happy, and if she thought about Laknir the sorrow was small compared to the joy in her new life.

It was nearly a year after they were married before Tom attempted to broach the subject.

“Do you think you might ever be able to tell me about it?” he asked one night. She thought for a long time before answering.

“Yes,” she said at last, “someday, but not tonight.” She leaned over and kissed him and smiled, and he answered that smile. She settled into his arms, certain that a day would come when she did not remember Laknir with sorrow and she might tell her husband the story of the man in the forest freely. Until then, she was content to wait.