His Other Life

Chapter 18

EIGHTEEN

ISLA

Present day

“Now why on earth would someone be following us?” Mav asked while Isla kept her eyes on the blue sedan in the mirror. “Isn’t it more likely that it’s just a car heading in the same direction as us?”

“It was at the rest stop too.”

“Could be a similar vehicle.”

Isla gnawed on her cheek. Was Mav right? It did seem a ridiculous notion that someone would be following them of all people. There were a lot of emotions at play—she could be imagining things. Except… “I thought I saw the guy from your building when we stopped in Lilliwaup.”

Mav’s brows rose. “Rowan?”

Isla frowned. “Who’s Rowan?”

“Oh.” Mav adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “A neighbor.”

“I thought you didn’t know your neighbors.”

“I’ve met a few now.” He sped up then tapped the brake a couple of times when he got too close to the car in front of him.

Isla studied him, but when it seemed as if he wasn’t going to elaborate, she turned back to the mirror. The blue sedan was further away now. “Well, I don’t know his name, but I mean the guy I thought was at the memorial park when we ran in to each other a few weeks ago.” Of course, she couldn’t be completely sure that had been the same person as the guy who’d held the door for her at Mav’s building. Ugh, the more she deliberated, the more unlikely it sounded. “Never mind. I’m probably making things up. Let’s forget about it.”

“Hmm,” Mav hummed in agreement, his lips pressed together.

They drove in silence for the next few miles with Isla keeping an eye on the rearview every so often. The nearest car behind them was now too far away to be able to tell its color. She turned on the radio.

“How long do we have to Portland?” Mav asked midway through Barbra Streisand singing about people who need people.

“A little over an hour. Need a stop?”

“No.” He threw her a quick smile. “Looks like a beautiful day down here. Where would you like to go first?”

It was the question Isla needed to shift her focus to the task at hand. Olympia had been a long shot, but she knew she and Jonah had stayed in Portland on their way south, so the chance of memories being triggered was greater there.

“Let’s see if we can check in to the hotel, and then I want to go to Hoyt Arboretum.”

“That’s where he took your picture?”

“Yes.”

Isla pulled out a plastic baggie from her purse and retrieved the short stack of photos she’d had printed. She flipped to the Portland snaps—a mural somewhere in the Buckman neighborhood, a closeup of two extravagant donuts, and a wide shot of Isla looking up at the gnarled trunk of a towering redwood tree.

A shiver skated across her shoulders. In a few hours, she’d be standing in that very spot again.

Mav glanced at her. “Everything all right?”

“What if I still don’t remember anything?”

“What if you do? Take heart, my dear. The sun is shining, you’re ‘in pursuit’ as they say, and once we get to Bend, your friend will be joining us.”

“I should be getting the police report too.”

“There you go.”

The knot in Isla’s belly thawed. Mav was right—as uncertain as the trip was, she had reason to be optimistic. “Thanks, Mav.” She smiled at him.

“You’re very welcome. Now let’s turn the music up.”

Isla had never seen Mav in casuals before, but when they met up in the lobby of the hotel that afternoon, there he was in ironed blue denim and athletic shoes. Paired with his bespoke coat and hat, it was as odd an incongruity as the two different halves of his face. He must have noticed her staring because he looked down at his feet then up again.

“We’re about to walk in the woods, no?”

“We are.” Isla tempered a smile. “Sorry.” She gestured to his legs. “I didn’t expect you to come prepared.”

“Once you’ve marched far enough in a day that your toenails fall off, you think about good shoes a different way. I may be ancient, but I’m always prepared.”

“Point taken.” Isla considered her own fashion sneakers. Then again, they weren’t walking that far.

It was a fifteen-minute drive to the arboretum from the hotel, and with each turn, each green light, Isla’s breathing grew shallower. When Mav parked, she jumped at the clack of the car doors unlocking. Knowingness simmered deep within her muscles and reverberated through the soles of her feet when she stepped outside. Already, this felt different than Olympia.

She pulled out the photo again. This had been a favorite spot in Portland when she and Jonah had visited in the past, so she knew where that tree was. “Let’s go,” she told Mav. “It’s this way.”

They made slow progress through the old growth, repeatedly getting passed by other hikers, but Isla didn’t care. Damp moss and rich soil imbued the air with the crisp scent of living things, and even though the canopy blocked most of the sunlight, it wasn’t as cold as she’d thought it would be. In a way, it was better to appreciate the stillness of nature’s cathedral like they were now—one step at a time—than to rush through it. Isla was certain she’d never paid attention to the many sounds in these woods before. Woodpeckers searching for food, squirrels scurrying up the solid trunks, the rustling in the ferns off the beaten path that suggested more critters beyond what they could see.

“A little break,” Mav said, after they’d made it up a slight incline. “Whew.”

Was it the shade or was he paler than usual? “Is it too much for you?” Isla asked, looking around for a spot to sit. Maybe that fallen tree trunk up ahead?

“How much farther?”

“Ten minutes maybe. Come on—let’s rest.” She took Mav’s arm and led him to the tree, then she pulled out the water bottle she’d brought from her backpack and handed it to him.

He took a deep swig. “Ah, that’s better.” He rested the bottle against his leg and glanced upward. “Impressive, isn’t it?”

She followed his gaze then returned her attention to his face. Color was seeping back into his cheeks. “Would you rather wait here?” she asked. “I don’t want you to overexert yourself.”

Mav waved her off. “Nah. I’ll be fine. Not used to all this fresh air. Give me another minute and I’ll be good as new.”

Isla walked ahead, scanning the ground. She picked up a long, straight branch and brought it back. “Here—you can use it as a walking stick.”

Mav took it and stood. “Excellent.” He inhaled deeply. “Okay, I’m ready.”

The tree in the picture grew not far from the Redwood Deck—an overlook that was always full of both amateur and professional photographers with their posing subjects. Today was no different. A family of four posed in matching outfits on one side of the deck, while on the other, several couples were trying to find the best angles for selfies.

Isla and Mav passed them, but as they did, something stirred in Isla’s chest, and she stumbled on a root stretching across the path.

Mav got hold of her jacket at the last moment. “Careful there.”

Isla straightened and paused to look back. There was something about the deck…

“What are you thinking?” Mav asked next to her in a hushed voice.

“I’m not sure.” Isla considered the wooden structure and the brighter drop-off beyond.

“Stay here or go on?”

Isla hesitated before turning forward again. “Let’s keep going. It’s up ahead.”

The trail curved, and then they were there. Down a small slope, the large redwood loomed like a foundational pillar ahead of them. Isla slowed, holding up the photo to make sure, and then she homed in on the exact spot where she’d stood two years ago.

“Here, you take this.” She handed the photo to Mav. “I’ll be right back.” Without waiting for an answer, she hurried the remaining yards and let her feet find their old prints. Then she closed her eyes and inhaled the cool, old-growth air deep into her lungs.

“I’m here,” she whispered to the trees. Tell me, tell me, tell me …

At first, there was next to nothing. A light rustle high above her where the wind brushed the evergreen sails. The tail-end echo of a bird’s trill fading between the tree trunks.

But then the click of a camera’s shutter rebounded through time, snapping Isla’s eyes open. Unseeingly, she trailed the large redwood upward, just like she had that day.

“Look up a little more,” Jonah told her. “There.”

Click.

She smiled at her husband. Asked him if he got the picture. He was squatting to get the right angle, eyes locked on the camera’s screen. Then he raised his head, but…

The vision dissolved.

“Not yet,” Isla whispered, squeezing her eyes shut. “Come on.”

He raised his head, but his gaze was lost somewhere far away. For an extended beat, he looked through her, not at her. She didn’t recognize the expression. Then he stood, adjusted his beanie, and smiled at her like he always did, before they walked back hand in hand.

Isla ground her feet harder into the decaying leaves beneath her feet. That was it? She turned to find Mav studying her. After one more glance at the tree, she made her way toward him.

“You remembered something,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“Barely. Jonah taking the picture.” Why had he looked at her like that? Had he been tired? Upset about something?

“And?” The green of the forest tinted Mav’s curious eyes turquoise.

“I don’t know. His expression.” Isla took a few steps back toward the way they’d come.

Mav followed but didn’t speak.

“You know how when you catch someone sort of spacing out—how they seem to be in a completely different place?”

“Sure.”

“It was like that except”—Isla gestured around them—“it didn’t fit with what he was doing.” She kicked a pine cone out of the way. “But I don’t know—who’s to say that’s even what happened? My brain isn’t exactly reliable.”

Mav was silent for a moment. “I think we need to operate under the assumption that if a memory comes back, attached to a place like this, then it’s real. We could question everything of course, but reality is in there somewhere.” He pointed to her head. “For now, let’s suppose that is indeed what happened. Does it mean anything to you?”

She wanted it to. More than anything. “Not really.”

“Then that’s okay too. Because if nothing else, it should instill some optimism about what this trip might yield. You remembered something. It’s better than nothing.”

Isla let that sink in as they approached the Redwood Deck again. New visitors had arrived; new poses were being struck. Mav was right. And they had a long way to go still.

A collective gasp rose from the people on the deck, stopping Mav and Isla in their tracks. A young man had dropped to one knee and was proposing to his girlfriend.

“Will you look at that,” Mav said.

The proposal before Isla morphed into a different formation.

A baptism on the deck. Dressed-up family members, a makeshift font, a robed priest. Isla tearing up because starting a family was at the forefront of her mind. Their minds.

She grasped Jonah’s arm as they watched. “Beautiful place for it,” she said.

“I’d prefer a church if we have kids,” he responded.

Next to her, Mav clapped. “And she said ‘yes.’ How marvelous!”

“Huh?” Isla blinked at the hugging couple on the deck. “Oh, yes. Great.”

She corrected Jonah. “You mean ‘when,’” she said.

The glimpse of the past cut off there. If he’d responded, she couldn’t remember with what. It had probably been a slip of the tongue, nothing more—he’d been all for their new plan to start a family when they’d talked about it a couple of weeks earlier. He’d wanted at least two kids, he’d said, reminiscing about childhood vacations and the shenanigans he and Katelyn had gotten up to. Isla had agreed. At least two.

Isla hooked her arm through Mav’s as they set off toward the trailhead. She would try not to dwell on the meaning of every little flashback. Like he’d said, even a vague glimpse of illumination in the impenetrable dark of the past two years was a good sign. A very good sign even. She’d pocket the glimpses like individual puzzle pieces, obscure though they were on their own, and maybe at the end of all this, a clearer image would emerge.

“Tell me about the march and the toenails,” she said as they walked on.

And Mav did.

Isla had one more stop in Portland the next day before they could continue onward to Bend—the donut shop. Or shops. The artisanal fried treat chain had four locations, and since Isla couldn’t be sure which one was the site of the snapshot, they’d have to visit all of them.

Mav grumbled at the prospect at first, citing “having done enough walking for a week” the day before, but when Isla informed him only one of the locations was within walking distance, meaning they’d be driving, he was game again.

“It’s been years since I had a good cruller,” he said, “so I suppose it won’t be a terrible hardship to go for a drive. They were Lorraine’s favorite.”

No hardship indeed, Isla thought, when they emerged from the third shop with yet another bag in hand.

“It would be rude to visit without making a purchase,” Mav said. “Besides, we didn’t try the apple fritter at the last place.”

Following his lead, Isla had bought the same donuts from Jonah’s photo at each place, hoping it would spark something, but so far, she’d had no such luck. The flavor on her tongue was familiar, but not unique enough to stand out against a hundred other such memories. A donut was a donut was a donut. And unlike in the arboretum, the environment would have been different two years ago—different people surrounding them, different noises.

“We still have one more spot to check,” Mav said as they parked back at the hotel. “Though I must say I’m feeling a little heavy in the gut currently.” He patted his belly, leaned his head against the headrest, and closed his eyes.

In the yellow tint of the garage lights, his skin took on a sallow tone that brought to mind waxy figures Isla had once seen in a London museum—lifeless imitations of people. Maybe she was pushing him too far.

“I can go by myself if you’d prefer to go upstairs and rest,” she said, putting her hand on his arm. “I know this is a lot.”

His pale lashes fluttered up. “What? Oh, no, no. A walk will be good for my digestion.” He smiled and winked at her. “But perhaps don’t let me buy more pastries.”

The final shop was three blocks from the hotel. The sky threatened icy rain but held on to the wet for now. Nevertheless, they hurried as best as they could, with scarves pulled up high, hats low. It was a relief to step inside the sweet-heavy air of the shop.

Mav coughed once inside and in line, patting his fist against his chest.

“You okay?” Isla asked.

“The damp,” he said. “It clogs my airways.” He cleared his throat again. “I’m fine.”

Isla’s hand hovered over his back, but she dropped it when the line moved forward.

Are you here? she asked Jonah in her mind, like she had in each of the other stores. But again, there was no response. Maybe he’d run out to pick up donuts on his own back then. For all she knew, she hadn’t even been a part of the outing.

Mav took a step to the side, drawing her attention back to the present.

“Are you sure you’re not going to get anything?” she asked, her head swiveling in his direction.

Then everything happened so fast.

Mav’s hand came down hard on the railing keeping the line in order, and his knees bent.

“Dizzy,” he managed, before his other hand touched the floor.

Isla grappled for his jacket to prevent him from going down hard, her voice rising above the fray in a shout of alarm. “Mav, no! Someone help!”

Somewhere behind them, the bell above the door jingled and a loud baritone cut through the hubbub surrounding them. “Everyone out of the way! Let me through!”

Isla looked over her shoulder as the crowd parted, and there, pulling a small cannister out of a bag, was the guy from Maverick’s building. The guy with the blue sedan.