I am leaving. I've put all my things together. Jacob is talking to his father and someone else in the living room before we leave. Last night's memories float in my mind, constant but not on the forefront of my thoughts. This morning we discussed what to do. Jacob explained something, though I still cannot quite figure out what he means. He and his friends are involved in some sort of covert group, their purpose still eludes me. Somehow, I pose a threat to the security of their group. That is all I can extract from his round about answers and avoidance of my pleading gaze. I want to know. It burns me up with anger and frustration. My nature is to seek answers. I am smoldering.
"Ready to go?" Jacob saunters in from the other room, a small bag in his hand, the car keys dangling from the other. His gaze floats over me, shivers crash down my spine.
"Sure, lets go." He shoulders my large bag. His gaze gives away his regret. I know he did not mean for this to happen. I feel my anger melting away, it is really not his fault this all happened.
The car growls to life and crunches on the gravel as we pull away from his house.
"Listen, Heather, I am really sorry about all this, truly. I hope you are not mad. I wish I could tell you everything, I really do. It just, it is so complicated. I don't want to get you caught up in it." His genuine tone resonates through the car like a peaceful breeze. Calmed, I let out a slow sigh.
"I know you didn't want this to happen. I'm sorry I have been acting like such a bitch. I just feel so in the dark, it is frustrating for me."
"Trust me, I know how you feel. I have been there." A sympathetic smile breaks across his face, the first to surface in days. "It's best just to leave it. You can go home and forget I ever existed."
"No way, I won't forget you!" I insist, a playful tone in my plea. He grins back, picking up my air of forgiveness. The rest of the car ride passes smoothly, our former lightheartedness returns.
Noon breaks with a weak sun shining across the ashen waters of Port Angeles. The ferry floats on the horizon, nearing the port. Screeching and puttering, the car comes to a stop and Jacob kills the engine. The seat squeaks as he turns to me, a sad little smile passing over his handsome face.
"I guess this is where we part ways." I grimace to myself, keeping my face turned to the window. I whisper,
"not quite yet, I hope." I don't know if he hears me. I dare a peek back at his face before I open the door. The cold is biting, the wind blustery from the ocean currents. Jacob languidly appears at the back of the car, popping the trunk to get my bag. Helping me shoulder the ridiculous weight, I feel his warm hands graze my shoulders. I don't want this to end. Time passes in slow motion for these few minutes as he waits with me for the ferry to arrive. We wait in a comfortable silence. Despite the weirdness of my short adventure with this stranger, I feel indelibly changed. Some event churned into motion the instant I met him. I can feel Fate working his mysterious self from the shadowy corners of my life. The ferry arrives and my wide eyes brim with the thought of my departure. Jacob looks like a sad puppy. His hand in a pocket, face downcast, he presents me with a piece of paper. Dark locks cover his vivid eyes, peering into me with that same intoxicating power from when we first met on the roadside. I take the paper. My mouth opens to say something, parting words. He already turned and left. His car roars to life as I walk down the road to the ticket booth. The car tires tear around the corner as he leaves. Alone, I board the ferry. The paper held tightly in my hand unfurls a message for me scrawled in blue pen. I smile, his phone number.
The ferry ride to Friday Harbor is only an hour. It passes slowly, my gaze never wavering from the window. Conspiracy theories and a million other different ideas clash in my thoughts. What is it? What did I just encounter? That afternoon replays over and over in my head. I try to remember every detail of those family stories my Grandpa repeated to me every weekend I visited. Virginia Dare was the first European colonist born in America. The child she had with the Indian man, he supposedly was my ancestor. He passed for a white man and decided to buy a farm in New England. Our descendants since moved further south, ending up scattered across the eastern coast. Still, it seemed like Virginia Dare was always the central figure of the stories, not the unnamed son. There are rumors of her ability to shape shift into a white doe. She is quite well known among the science fiction realm as a figure in the Buffy Vampire Slayer series, as the vampire killer "White Doe." I always thought that was cool. I remember telling my elementary school friends that I was related to a vampire killer from Buffy when the series was popular. I wonder why Jacob would ask specifically about Indian descendants though. Is there some Indian mafia? Maybe it is some casino drug lord type thing. Or maybe they thought I came from a rival tribe. East coast versus west coast? Probably not. Indian folklore often involves animals and magic, maybe that is real? Almost certainly not, but I always remembered my grandfather and his stories. The way his old eyes lit up when he me told about Virginia, the purest soul, the white doe who haunts the forests of Roanoke Island still. His raven hair and crinkled olive skin always reminded me of an Indian, but his light grey eyes did not complete the image. Still, Virginia Dare stands out in my mind. The way Jacob's eyes flickered when I uttered her name. His lips pursed up and eyes narrowed to slits. His abrupt departure that left me in tears of frustration and confusion means something. Something about that story disturbed him. Now I just have to find out why.