His Other Life

Chapter 17

SEVENTEEN

ISLA

Present day

Isla had expected to wake up early, having gone to bed before ten, but when the sliver of light at the edge of the room-darkening curtains finally reached into her subconscious the next morning, it was already almost nine.

Mav had texted her an hour ago that he was headed down to breakfast, so she brushed her teeth and threw on some clothes, then hurried to the elevator.

He was seated by the window, a complimentary newspaper in front of him and a cup of coffee in one hand, but his gaze was lost on something beyond the windowpane. The morning sun slanted diagonally across the table, illuminating his thoughtful expression, not unlike in the Rembrandt print she used to pass daily in the hallway outside her office at the university. It made her slow her step as she navigated the path toward him, just so she could admire the composition.

He turned when she was a few yards away, his face lighting up. “Well, good morning.”

“Sorry I slept in,” she said. “I should have set my alarm.”

“Nonsense. We’re not in a hurry.”

“Did you eat, I hope?”

He patted his stomach. “Bacon, hash browns, eggs. I’m waiting for a second wind so I can sample the waffles as well.”

“Gotta love a buffet.”

“Indeed.” He nodded toward the food. “So what are you waiting for?”

Neither one of them was very talkative in the morning, so while Mav read his paper, Isla scanned her auction sites and did a crossword puzzle on her phone. Mav got seconds, then Isla did the same.

When she’d finished her coffee, Mav put the paper down and pointed out the window. “There it is again.” He leaned closer to the glass.

“What is?” Isla scanned the barren shrubs and cedar-strewn lawn beyond.

“Your favorite. Over there by the planter. No, wait—now it’s by that branch.”

Isla followed his finger back and forth until she spotted the hummingbird’s swift dance through the air.

“There were two of them earlier. Came real close to the glass. The server said they have a feeder around the corner.”

The bird’s movements seemed to spell out “catch me if you can,” teasing the observer to follow—up in the air, down the rabbit hole, round and round—and as always, the iridescent green-and-purple plumage sent a burst of childlike joy through Isla.

“I would have thought they migrated in the winter,” Mav said.

“Not the Anna’s hummingbird. They look delicate, but they’re basically as resilient as crows.”

“So colorful.”

“It must be finding insects to eat somewhere.”

Mav shifted away from the glass. “What do you mean?”

“Protein makes their colors brighter. Or the male birds anyway.”

“Is that so?”

“I know—not exactly useful information, is it? Why can’t I remember the details of the Revolutionary War but could tell you all about the French duchess that bird is named after and how to make the perfect sugar water for it?” Isla shook her head. “Thanks, Nana.”

“I do find it interesting,” Mav said. “Give me a choice between wars and tiny creatures like that, and I know what my pick is any day.”

As they made their way back to the elevator, Isla’s head still swirled with memories of summers long ago, picking out flowers for the planters in Nana’s yard, hanging the feeders from the pergola—high enough that the bears wouldn’t get any ideas. A deep sense of longing filled her very core.

“Would you want to see where they lived?” she asked. “My grandparents I mean. Yelm would only be a short detour on our way, and I haven’t been there in years.”

Mav paused and looked at her. “Huh,” he said. “Yelm?” He kept walking. “Yes, I suppose we could do that.”

And who knew? Maybe something about her grandparents’ old place would help shine a light on the words she’d heard during her glimpse of the other side. Surely if some essence of Nana lingered on this plane, it would be there.

“Do you believe in ghosts?” she asked Mav when they were on the road again.

“White sheets, rattling chains?” He took his eyes off the road for a moment. “No.”

“But…”

“Trapped energies, connections with the beyond? Yes.”

“Oh.”

“Sailors are a superstitious breed, don’t you know?” He grinned. “Besides, I’ve seen and heard some unexplainable things myself in my day.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, I don’t talk about it. They don’t like that.”

“They?” Isla couldn’t tell if he was messing with her or being serious.

“Let’s just say I will never go back to Savannah, Georgia.” He shivered as if merely saying the words gave him chills. “We went for our honeymoon, but even Lorraine, who was a most level-headed woman, had to admit we weren’t as alone in our room as we would have liked. We were supposed to stay for a week but ended up driving down to Jacksonville instead after two days. In the end, it was a great trip.”

Isla tried to picture a younger Mav and his wife hightailing it out of a haunted hotel, and again wondered if he was telling tall tales to entertain her. But it didn’t matter. Something had happened to her after the accident—something she couldn’t explain. Who was she to discount the possibility of there being other unknowns out there?

Yelm had grown since she’d last been there, but she still had no trouble finding her way through the sleepy town to the rural road leading to her grandparents’ old place. The trees were a little taller, the buildings a little more worn, but it was still the same place she’d known so intimately as a child.

Mav pulled up near an outbuilding and turned off the engine. “Do you know who lives here now?”

“No.” Isla opened her door and stepped out. There were no other cars around, and the house was dark. “Hello?” she called. “Anyone home?”

Mav stepped out too and ran a hand over his scalp.

“A quick peek, then we’ll leave,” Isla said.

“Let’s at least knock on the door first. Lots of gun-nuts about these days.”

Isla agreed.

Whoever owned the house had done a good job with the upkeep. The siding had a new layer of paint, the windows were clean, and there was a greenhouse and several raised beds organized on a neat rectangular gravel area by the garage that hadn’t been there before.

“I must have run that trail a thousand times.” Isla pointed to the compacted dirt trail that led through the field toward a cluster of trees in the distance. “Heck, I might have made that trail.” Dirty sneakers swishing through grass, scraped knees, ladybugs.

“I think I hear someone.” Mav turned back to the door. A second later it opened.

“Can I help you?” The middle-aged man at the door had glasses pushed up onto his head and a cell phone in his hand. Working from home maybe. When he spotted Mav’s face, he did a double take.

Isla hurried to introduce them, hoping politeness would offset Mav’s inevitable first impression. Then she explained that she’d spent time there as a kid. “I don’t know how long you’ve lived here, but my grandparents built the place. I just wanted to show my friend.”

“The Smiths were your grandparents?” the man asked, seemingly more at ease. “Nice people. I met them when we signed the papers. I’m Nathan by the way.”

Isla lit up. “Oh, so you bought from them?”

“That’s right. We’ve been here what… seventeen years now. Raised our boys here.”

“Good place for that,” Mav said.

Nathan chuckled. “Nothing like outdoor space when you have energetic kids in the house.” He glanced at his phone.

“We didn’t mean to bother you,” Isla hurried to say. “Would it be okay if we walked around the property?”

“It’s no bother. You’re welcome to a peek in here too if you want. We changed things around some when we moved in, took down a wall, but the rest should be familiar. Upstairs is a mess though. My wife has been redoing the gable room since our youngest moved out.”

Isla raised her eyebrows at Mav in a silent question, and he responded with a nod.

Stepping onto the wood flooring and hearing that first creak transported Isla back several decades. The furniture was different of course, and instead of a small galley kitchen, the space now opened into the living room.

“I like this,” Isla said. She wasn’t being polite—it was nice. She still missed the leather recliner that used to sit in the corner though, and the scent of beeswax candles that always lingered in the air. Pop-Pop had made his own.

“Brings back memories?” Mav asked.

“Yeah.” Memories, but nothing more. No voices. Isla didn’t know if that was disappointing or reassuring.

Nathan gestured to the kitchen. “There were notches in the pantry when we took over. Was that you?”

Isla smiled. “Nana used to measure me every time I came to visit even if it had only been a month since last time.”

They did the rounds downstairs, Isla pointing out to Mav what things had looked like back then, and eventually they landed back in the foyer again. Isla toyed with the question in her mind. Any odd happenings of the spiritual kind—unexplained visitations? But no, she couldn’t. It would feel silly.

They stepped onto the front porch.

“You know, it’s a shame my wife isn’t here right now,” Nathan said. “She’s big into all things genealogy and local history. I’m sure she’d love to hear some of your stories about this place.”

“I’m happy to leave my number,” Isla said. “I might even have a card.” She dug into her purse and found one with the university’s logo. “Use the cell number, not the other one. Happy to answer whatever.”

Nathan held up the card. “Thanks. And feel free to walk around outside too, like I said. I have a meeting in five, so I’ll head back upstairs. It was nice to meet you both.”

They took their leave, and then it was just Isla and Mav again.

“This must be what Dorothy felt like after the tornado set her down,” Isla said. “Whew. Did not expect a tour.”

Mav nodded. “I’m happy to have seen it.” He turned his face to the sky and added in a soft voice that sounded almost like a prayer, “Neil and Embeth.”

Isla’s heart swelled. “Neil and Embeth.”

They looked out across the property, at the fallow growth and dark tree line, the sunlight deepening the shadows beneath the evergreens. Beyond that, the lake. High above, a hawk circled the meadow where Isla once upon a time had chased bunnies and staked out molehills. So long ago and yet the happiness of it still echoed in her blood. It was a comfort to know it remained here in this place regardless of where her future would take her.

“I think I’m ready to go,” she said.

“Portland?” Mav asked.

“Portland,” Isla confirmed.

She kept her eyes on the house as long as she could when Mav drove away, but eventually, the trees swallowed it up, and she settled into her seat. The two-lane road was straight and dry, the passing landscape offering a lulling backdrop, so it wasn’t until they slowed to rejoin I-5 by Centralia that Isla stirred out of the reverie Yelm had brought about.

“Do you need a break?” she asked Mav.

“I’m doing all right.” He glanced in the rearview and blind spot, then merged onto the expressway.

Out of habit, Isla did the same in her mirrors, but when the sun reflected blue a few car-lengths behind them, she whipped around to look out the back window.

She blinked, a jolt of recognition shaking her.

“What is it?” Mav asked.

Isla swallowed then forced in a deep breath. “I don’t want to alarm you,” she said, “but I think we’re being followed.”