His Other Life

Chapter 10

TEN

ISLA

Present day

The photo of Jonah lingered sideways in Isla’s chest as she completed her meal deliveries the following day. She was vaguely aware of Maverick making conversation, but since she’d forgotten her lunch at home, she didn’t stay long. “Lots going on,” was her excuse when he probed. It wasn’t a complete lie. It was just that most of what was “going on” was in her head.

Could the photo have been taken by a colleague? she wondered, biking back to Mom’s through town. Someone he knew well, with whom he was comfortable letting his guard down. Just because he’d never talked about co-workers didn’t mean he hadn’t had a few close ones, right? And he was allowed to have other people in his car. He and Isla had never needed the other to account for every moment of every day they were apart.

But even as she tried to convince herself that was the case, she knew deep down she’d stumbled upon something —not only because of the particular expression on his face but because of the pit it had left in her stomach. She knew she’d felt it before, but when she tried to pinpoint the sensation, it skirted away like quicksilver.

She braked and stepped off the bike to lead it across the street. All these unknowns were giving her a headache.

After making herself a sandwich in the kitchen, Isla remained standing, leaning against the counter trying but failing to recall if Jonah had ever mentioned someone he was friendly with in Portland.

Surely, he hadn’t ?—

She cut the intruding thought short. No. He would never do that to her.

As if wanting to prove his faithfulness to herself, she moved into the living room where the wedding video sat tucked into its case. If she watched it again, she’d be able to laugh those ludicrous thoughts away. And maybe there was still something there that she’d missed. She eyed the case from a distance then set the plate down on the table. Mom had a dentist appointment this afternoon and wouldn’t be home for a while…

Squatting, Isla opened the door to the entertainment center and picked up the case. In an instant, a whirlwind reel of the wedding flowed through her mind. There’d been nothing but joy that night—it was so tempting now as always to immerse herself in happier times.

No, she shouldn’t.

Her thumb caressed the smooth plastic, so cool and inviting against her skin, then, still gripping the case, she forced herself upright and stood for a moment, staring at the black TV. If it didn’t help her to watch it, maybe Mom was right, and it did the opposite. Her teeth dug into her lower lip.

Before she could change her mind, she turned and strode with determined steps into her bedroom, pulled out one of the storage boxes under the bed, and tucked the case inside. As always, Ulysses was curled up in a ball by the pillows, but at the commotion, he lifted his head and blinked yellow eyes at her.

“It’s the right thing to do,” Isla told him. “It’s not answering any of my questions.” She reached across the comforter to scratch him behind the ear and was awarded with the low revving of a feline engine. “Besides, it will make Mom happy.” The purring increased in intensity. “Oh, you too, huh?” she chuckled.

Ulysses stretched and crept closer to Isla, who’d sat down. Her hand moved of its own accord across the shiny black coat as her mind churned in ever more convoluted circles. Photos, holidays, road trips, and vows. Somewhere in all of it there must be a key waiting to be found. The question was, where?

“Sorry about yesterday,” Isla said, setting down Mav’s meal on the counter on Wednesday. “I was a bit in my head.”

Mav took a glass out of the cabinet and turned on the tap. “Anything in particular going on?”

Isla started the microwave and watched the plate spin. “I got some photos off Jonah’s old camera.” She fell silent as the seconds counted down on the display.

“And?” Mav sat down in his chair.

How to explain? Isla took the plate out and grabbed silverware before setting everything down in front of Mav. “And it’s probably just in my head, but I can’t”—she flapped her hand around her head as if chasing away a mosquito—“get it out of here.”

“I see.” Mav scooped up a forkful of peas and brought them close enough to his face to sniff. Then he tipped them back onto the plate. “They look so appealing, don’t they?” he said. “These tiny green pearls. You’d think they’d taste a delight as well, but no. Sneaky little suckers.”

Isla laughed. “You feel very strongly about your vegetables.”

“I do.” Mav smiled, then cut a piece of tilapia instead and chewed carefully. “I’ve earned the right to be picky.”

“Note taken. No peas.”

For a while, the only sound around them was that of chewing and the crinkle of the paper wrapped around Isla’s sandwich, but when half of Mav’s food was gone, he sat back and leveled his icy blues on her.

“Can I see the pictures?” he asked.

Isla hesitated, but then she pulled out her phone and opened Katelyn’s email and its attachment.

“It’s this one,” she said, scrolling to the one of Jonah, and handing the phone to Mav. “Tell me what you see.”

Mav took his time, while Isla watched him expectantly.

“You have a good eye,” he said eventually. “Caught him unawares in this one.”

“Right.” Isla shoved her hands into the pocket of her hoodie. “Except I didn’t take it, and I have no idea who did.”

Mav looked up and blinked at her. “I see. Could have been anyone though, couldn’t it? Coworker, client, friend.”

“It would have had to have been someone who knew him well enough that they felt comfortable grabbing his camera and firing off a candid shot.”

“Friend it is.”

“I don’t think he had any down there.”

“Mm. I see how that might cause some pondering. But I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation.”

As vague as that was, it still eased something within Isla. Maybe he was right.

“Are there more?” Mav asked.

“Scroll to the left.” Isla pointed. “Christmas and New Year’s mostly.”

“Looks like a good family,” he said. “Ha-ha, those kids are drowning in gifts.” He kept scrolling. “Huh.” He flipped back and forth between two photos.

“What?”

“I take it Jonah really didn’t like Christmas?”

Isla frowned. “Why would you say that?”

Jonah had always loved Christmas. Every year, he was the first one at the Christmas tree lot the day after Thanksgiving, and he took the Gallagher cookie swap more seriously than anyone else. He also went to great lengths to spread his Christmas cheer around. The first year they’d dated, he’d made Isla an advent calendar with presents for each day of December, each more thoughtful than the next—a tradition he’d stuck to ever since—and he kept a running list of gift ideas for the people he loved in his phone throughout the year. The holiday spirit mattered to him.

Isla leaned closer to the screen to see what Mav was looking at. Several images swished by: Katelyn’s kids animated with delight at various gifts, the adults laughing in the background, Isla herself holding up a sweater someone had gifted her, and Jonah, not participating.

She took the phone from Mav and swiped back and forth through the photos. He wasn’t in all of them, but wherever he was, he made up an impassive void amidst everyone else’s exuberance. “I don’t understand,” she mumbled. She’d been so stuck on the car photo that the Christmas ones had faded into the background, but now that Mav had made his observation, she couldn’t unsee it. Jonah looked miserable.

In the final Christmas image, Isla had her arm around her husband’s shoulders, grinning at the camera. The rest of the family crowded them on either side, some holding up gifts, others throwing up bunny ears. In this one, Jonah, too, looked at the camera, and the corners of his mouth were turned up, but instead of setting Isla at ease, the overall impression made her stomach twist.

“This makes no sense—Christmas was his favorite,” she said.

“Maybe he had a bad day.”

If he did, she hadn’t been aware of it at the time. Everything had seemed perfectly normal to her. Hadn’t it? First the candid car photo, now this. What did it all mean? The pit lodged in her stomach hollowed further, not only because she didn’t understand the Jonah she was seeing, but also because it made her question her memory going back even further than the week of the accident. It made something scratch at the barred door in her mind. Something with sharp claws.

Mav watched her for a while then nudged a crooked finger toward her head. “What’s going on in there?”

Isla scrunched up her face in concentration. “There’s just something about these photos that makes the other ones—the albums in my closet, the framed portraits in my room, my screen saver—feel… almost like they’re lies. I mean, I know they’re not, but, ugh, I can’t explain it. It’s like—I know we were happy. I remember laughing, talking… arguing too, of course, but making up. And maybe the whole quarantine thing wasn’t our best time, but we loved each other. You know—at the core.”

“Of course you did.” He put his hand on hers, urging her to lower the phone. “Isla dear, this could be nothing.”

The screen went black as she shook her head. “But what if it’s something? What if it’s important? I don’t know who took that photo of him. Who he smiled at like that. Why he didn’t smile at Christmas.” Isla scoffed. “Like I need more questions without answers. Why can’t I just remember?”

Mav watched her with soft eyes for a moment. “Have you talked to someone about this? Maybe it’s a block of some kind.”

“I’m talking to you.”

“I mean a professional.”

Isla shook her head. “I had a therapist for a while, but she moved, and I didn’t feel like searching for someone new. The waitlists are too long anyway.” She fiddled with the corner of her phone case. Pushed it off the device then back on. “My friend Louise is contacting the police department to talk to someone about getting a copy of the accident report,” she said. “But I don’t know what good that’ll do. Refresh my facts, I guess.”

Mav nodded slowly. “I hear you.”

“But what about what’s in here?” Isla tapped her temple. “What if even the things I think I remember aren’t real?”

“The report can’t unveil that.”

“Exactly.”

Mav paused for a beat; cleared his throat. “Would you go back there?” he asked. “Retrace your steps?”

Isla’s eyes shot to his as her stomach lurched.

“Sometimes the only way forward is through,” he continued. “No matter how impossible the journey might seem.”

“I couldn’t,” Isla sputtered. “I don’t… Where would I…? How…?”

“But you need to get to the bottom of this, Isla, dear. And I think you know that.”

His gentle tone eased the turbulence within her, and she let her shoulders relax again. She inhaled slowly and let it out. He was right. She did know. Except there was one problem that would be harder to get around.

“I don’t drive,” she said. “Not since what happened. I don’t even have a car.”

A smile bloomed across Mav’s face, making inky lines bend into swirls, and then he placed his hands on top of the table and leaned forward. “Well, I guess you’re in luck then, because I do.”