His Other Life

Chapter 30

THIRTY

ISLA

Present day

Good luck today and let me know how it goes , Louise texted Isla in the morning.

Isla sent her a thumbs up. Her friend had left them after dinner the night before since she had to go home and back to work, but it was good to know she was still thinking of them. Isla certainly hadn’t done much else for most of the night. Short bouts of shallow sleep had been interspersed by longer intervals of rumination, and at first light, she’d given up and taken a long shower.

Breakfast ? she texted Rowan at seven thirty, not expecting a response, but to her surprise, he texted back after only a few minutes that he’d meet her downstairs in ten.

“Mav is still getting ready,” he said when he sat down at her table. “He’s surprisingly particular about his morning routine.” He nodded yes to the server offering coffee then sat back in his chair. “Did you get any sleep?”

“I’ll take a refill please,” Isla told the server. To Rowan she said, “Second cup in ten minutes. Does that answer your question?”

“That bad, huh?”

Isla stirred sweetener into her cup. “I’m just nervous. What if it’s her? What if it isn’t her? If it is her, what does that mean? What do I say?”

“Mm.” Rowan brought his cup to his lips and blew on the dark surface. “When you and Mav decided to go on this trip, Gemma wasn’t on your radar at all, right?”

“Right.”

“What were you hoping this would lead to?” He gestured around them. “I mean, I know you wanted to find out how it happened, but… Eyewitnesses? Someone to blame? Returning memories?”

“Can I pick all of the above?” Isla asked. “Or any one of them. Anything is better than nothing.”

When she thought back to the weeks and months leading up to meeting Mav, the image most deeply ingrained in her mind was a snapshot of her on the living room floor watching the wedding video and Mom turning it off. The wedding march then a black screen. The bouquet toss then a black screen. Almost like they’d been playing a game where no one could win. The worst outcome of this trip would be if she went home and rolled that die again.

She lifted her cup, then changed her mind and set it back down. “When I was eight, I was afraid of the dark. I still don’t know why, but every night I would obsess about what might be in my closet or under my bed or outside the window, and for a full year, my parents had to sit with me until I fell asleep. My drawings had monsters, my stories had perilous situations, and the more they told me not to think about that stuff, the more I did. But then that summer, my parents went on a trip with friends for a week while I stayed with my grandparents, and Nana had no patience for spending hours at my bedside every night. She had her shows and whatnot.

“So my second evening there, she and Pop-Pop announced we were going on an adventure to catch moonlight for night cookies, and it required going into the woods. I protested at first, but they put fairy lights in jars to lead the way and made it sound so magical that eventually I gave in. Plus, I had a soft spot for cookies.” Isla smiled. “We walked across the field and past the tree line, and every so often, one of them would direct my attention to a rock or a plant or an animal print and ask me questions about how the dark made them different or the same as during the day. And by the end of it, I was running ahead and pointing out things to them.”

“What about the cookies?”

“We baked them by candlelight when we got back. Nana pretended to have caught some moonlight in a jar—I’m sure it was just sugar with decorative glitter mixed in—and we ate them on the porch while listening to the rustling of animals in the growth around the house and guessing what they were. After that night, I wasn’t scared of the dark anymore because I’d gotten to know it well enough to be able to set it aside and focus on other things.” Isla paused to have a sip of her coffee then tucked her hands between her legs. “But with Jonah’s death, there’s been nothing concrete for me to confront. Like you said—no eyewitness accounts to offer facts, no culprits to hold responsible other than myself, no memories to explain all the things that made no sense.”

“Nothing to let you know it enough to be able to set it aside.”

Isla nodded. “And I’m sure eventually I’d have outgrown my fear of the dark even if that evening had never happened, just like time heals wounds when we lose someone, but in this case, I don’t want to wait any longer. I can’t. I have a job to get back to. I need to move and be able to live alone.”

“You need to live. Period.”

The tension in Isla’s shoulders from tossing all night eased at Rowan’s earnest perception of her. “Yes.” She sighed. “I need to live. So all that to say—I was hoping this would lead to night cookies. I wanted to walk into the dark of my mind and light things up, find them, examine them, understand them. And then I wanted to tuck them away.”

“But you do know more now. You know you were driving because Jonah was drunk and that you probably took a wrong turn at a roundabout, which led you to end up far south.”

The dining room was starting to fill up, so Isla waited to respond until an older couple had passed by their table farther into the space.

“That only means I’ve made it halfway across the trail through the field. But what about behind the big oak tree or under the large rock? What about in the closet?”

“There are still questions that keep you stuck,” Rowan guessed. He shifted in his seat and crossed one long leg over the other. “That’s why this Gemma person feels high stakes. But where does she fit into your story? Is she a monster or a jar of fairy lights? She can’t help you remember, so it’s either she’s to blame or she knows something. Or neither, I suppose.”

The coffee sloshed like a frothy swell inside Isla’s stomach, so when the server passed, she asked for an order of the homemade scones. “Do you want anything?” she asked Rowan.

“I’ll have the same,” he said. “Thanks.”

Isla looked at her watch. Still only barely past eight. The dentist’s office didn’t open until nine thirty.

“I’m not sure how she fits,” she said. “In an ideal world, going to Bend would have triggered everything to come back. Just whoosh .” She swept her hands past her head. “Since it didn’t, the second best would be if someone talked to Jonah or me that weekend. I know I didn’t call or text anyone. I still have my phone, and we’ve interviewed all of freaking Bend. So that leaves Jonah. If Gemma knew him—or if she was there—I want to know.”

Rowan adjusted the knife next to his napkin with his forefinger. “And if he had an affair with her?”

Isla had pictured a whole future with Jonah. Sunday morning mimosas, quoting cheesy movie lines to each other well into old age, one day traveling to Greece, Scotland, maybe Australia even. She’d wanted him to be the father of her future children and knew he’d have made a great one. They had loved each other—she knew that as certain as day follows night. But no marriage was perfect, and quarantine had been an odd time for everyone. “Like I said, at this point, any information is better than no information. I just want the dark to make sense again. At least an affair would be something concrete to work through.”

Rowan moved his napkin off the table to allow the server to place a plate in front of him. “Maybe you’re right.”

Isla did the same and dug into her first scone as soon as the server left. It was still warm from the oven.

“Ah, there’s Mav.” Rowan waved. Then he pulled out the chair next to him. “All snazzed up for the ladies now?” he asked when Mav reached them.

“Very funny.” Mav sat and placed his napkin in his lap. “Nothing wrong with looking presentable.” He wore a gray V-neck sweater over a collared dress shirt, and dark slacks. His chin was impeccably shaven and his sparse white hair combed neatly at his temples. “How are we this morning?” He patted Isla’s hand across the table.

“Better now.” Isla exchanged a private look with Rowan. Deep diving into her childhood had helped clarify today’s stakes for her. The worst thing that could happen would not be to find out Jonah had cheated but that Gemma knew nothing.

“Are you sure you’re okay to drive again?” Isla asked Mav on their way to the parking lot after checking out.

Rowan had needed gas for his car so he’d already left but would meet up with them outside the dentist’s office.

“Mm-hmm, yes.” Mav hoisted his bag over the curb. “I drove it back from Rowan’s friend’s house, didn’t I?”

“Because we have quite a distance to cover today with the stops in Vancouver and Yelm.” They’d stay another night in Olympia like they had on the way down, but since Mav’s incident, Isla hadn’t made the mistake of forgetting his age. “If you need more rest…”

“Oh hush.” Mav shot her a heavy glare as they approached the truck. He unlocked it, and they put their bags on the flatbed.

But after he’d stuck the key in the ignition, he paused instead of reaching for his seatbelt.

“What is it?” Isla asked. “Do you need directions? I have them here.” She held up her phone.

“You know,” Mav said, “maybe I am feeling a little lightheaded after all.”

“You are?”

“Yes. I think so.” He blinked at her, the glint in his eyes countering what he was saying.

Isla studied him. “Should I call Rowan? Do you think you need a doctor?”

“Oh no, this is an age thing. Ninety years of walking makes a body tired.”

“Okay…” Breakfast had run longer than she’d intended so by her internal clock, they were already behind schedule. The dentist’s office would be opening in a few minutes, and it was a thirty-minute drive give or take depending on traffic. “Maybe I’ll let him know we’ll be running late then?”

“Or…” Mav rolled his fingers against the steering wheel. “Maybe you could drive?” He turned to face her.

“Me?”

“It’s not that far. And if I feel better in a minute, we could pull over and switch.”

Isla fought against the protest inside her. She couldn’t drive. She had decided many months ago that she’d never again get behind the wheel. Then again, it would be the fastest way to get to Vancouver. To get the truth.

“Do you feel like it might pass soon?” she asked.

Mav put a finger up to his chin as if thinking. “Hard to say. Could be five minutes. Could be the whole morning.”

The whole morning?

Mav sucked in air in his cheeks and blew it out. “I suppose we could ask Rowan to come pick us up, but then we’d have to return for the truck later, and that might mean not getting to Olympia until after dark. Plus, I believe it’s supposed to rain this afternoon. I’m not sure I’d feel comfortable driving under such conditions. Hmm. What to do? What to do?”

Isla bit down on her lip. Studied the map on her phone. Their destination was a straight shot north on I-5. If she stayed in the right lane, maybe she’d be okay? As far as comfort zones went, she was already testing its borders.

“Okay,” Isla said.

Mav’s eyebrows twitched. “Okay?”

“I’ll do it. Let’s switch.”

Before she could change her mind, she unbuckled and got out. Mav was slower, but soon they’d swapped seats, and Isla put her hands on a steering wheel for the first time in two years, one month, and one day. The cool plastic felt foreign to her palms.

Sensing Mav was watching her, she turned the key, and the engine rumbled to life. She could do this. Nothing to it. Gas, brake, signal. At least it was nothing like the sleek crossover she’d driven last. She forced her grip to relax a tad, then she checked her mirrors, put the truck in reverse, and backed out of the parking space.

Rowan was waiting for them when Isla pulled into the lot in front of the strip mall where Dr. Richards’ office was located. The drive had been uncomplicated, traffic not too bad, and after a few miles, Isla had even asked Mav to put on some music. But after she’d parked and turned off the engine, a wave of heat still rolled through her as the knot between her shoulder blades released. She’d done it—this thing that a week ago had seemed as impossible as taking flight. She’d really done it.

Rowan opened the door for her, which was good since her hand was trembling.

“You drove?” he asked, bafflement etched on his face. “That’s fantastic.”

She jumped out. “Mav was a little dizzy, so I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“Dizzy?” Rowan watched Mav’s head become visible over the roof of the car.

Mav smiled. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Is that so?”

“Feeling much better now.”

Rowan chuckled then mumbled something under his breath that sounded like, “I bet you do.”

Isla was too caught up in her own thoughts to analyze their exchange, because here they were. Here she was, about to meet Gemma.

“I think I want to go in alone,” she said. “Do you mind?”

“We’ll wait here,” Mav said. “Take your time.”

No time like the present.

Isla approached the building as if zombies might come pouring out of it, scanning past a daycare center, a drycleaner, and a greeting card store before her eyes fixed on the black lettering in the dentist’s window that announced that walk-ins were welcome to get “The smile you always wanted.”

She took a deep breath and went inside.

The waiting room was small but neat with several blue chairs and an upholstered window seat. The woman at the counter finished what she was typing on the computer before addressing Isla.

“Can I help you?”

Isla stepped closer. “Um, hi.” She looked around, pausing on a built-in aquarium in one wall. “I was…” She shifted her stance. “Hi. I’m here for, um, Gemma.”

“Okay.” The woman adjusted her screen. “Do you have an appointment?”

“No. Not today. My husband did. I just had a question. If she’s here.” Isla forced herself to smile even though all the blood in her body felt like it was stuck in her feet. She might actually have to sit down.

“Oh, okay.” The receptionist’s chipper tone dragged a little. “Let me go check, all right? One moment.”

Isla grabbed on to the counter. This was it.

The fish swam round and round in their tank—their fluttering fins mirrored in Isla’s stomach. The second hand on the wall clock slowed.

Then, finally, footsteps approached on the other side of the door.