Chapter 34
THIRTY-FOUR
ISLA
Present day
It was close to midnight when Isla parked Mav’s truck in the driveway of Mom’s house. Her shoulders ached, and her eyes felt dry and grainy from staying alert during the drive. Traffic hadn’t been bad, but there was something about the darkness and the road winding through dense woods that had made her question more than once her decision to leave the others behind.
But now it was over, and she’d made it.
She unlocked the front door as quietly as she could, allowing the familiar scent of jute rug and spring showers fabric softener wash over her, but when a black shadow came for her legs, she let out a small yelp and steadied herself on an entryway table.
“Ulysses,” she hissed before she squatted to scoop up the feline. “I missed you too, but we have to be quiet so we don’t wake up?—”
Light flooded the hallway as Mom flipped the light switch and came storming out, a Louisville slugger at the ready. “Who’s there?” As soon as she saw Isla, she dropped the baseball bat to her side. “Birdie?”
“Hi, Mom.”
“What are you doing here?”
Isla’s shoulders slumped. The running and chasing were over. All she wanted was a hug and her bed. She walked into her mom’s arms. “I came home early,” she said, voice muffled against Mom’s robe.
Nancy hugged her tight then held her by the shoulders at arm’s-length. “Is everything all right?”
“Can I tell you about it in the morning? I’m really tired.”
Her mom let go of her and shuffled over to the hallway window to peer outside. “Where are the others?”
“Still in Olympia.”
Mom spun. “You drove?”
Isla nodded. “Ta-da.” She let out a wry chuckle. “But seriously—can it wait until tomorrow?”
“I guess.” Nancy pulled her robe tighter around her. “If you’re sure you’re okay.”
Isla swallowed. Maybe with a liberal definition of “okay.” “I just need to sleep. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
“Do you need anything? Food? Are you hungry?”
Isla needed a lot of things. Her memory to return. To find Gemma. People not to lie to her. But since that was outside the realm of maternal magic, she settled for, “I’ll grab something. You go back to bed.”
Mom gave Isla’s shoulder a tight squeeze, and then she left.
Isla turned the light back off and walked into the dark kitchen with Ulysses meowing at her feet. She shushed him as she tapped the light switch above the stove. The clock on the microwave said 00:08. It was Wednesday. She should probably let Rowan know she’d defected.
After digging through the fridge and finding some hummus and baby carrots, she sat down at the kitchen table, and ate, while staring unseeingly into the murky living room. The emptiness inside her matched the shadows climbing the corners and seeping into the still-life furniture. An emptiness she thought she’d filled with new friends, new meaning, purpose.
“Ow.” Isla swatted at her thigh as Ulysses dug his claws into her leg. “What did you do that for?”
Soulful, yellow eyes stared up at her from the floor. “Meow.”
“You want a carrot?” Isla asked.
“Meow.”
She bit off a piece and put it at the cat’s feet. “There you go.”
Her introspection interrupted, she pulled out her phone and opened a new message for Rowan. I’m back home. Took Mav’s truck so he’ll have to ride with you. FYI.
She didn’t expect him to respond, but within thirty seconds, her phone rattled against the table. You’re joking, right?
She rolled her eyes. Hardly in the mood for jokes. She snapped a picture of Ulysses and sent it.
That could have been taken at any other time.
Was he serious? After what had transpired at the hotel only a few hours earlier, he thought she was sitting here making up stories for fun?
I’ll leave the keys on the visor so you can come get it once you’re back. Don’t bother knocking.
His response was instant. You’re that upset?
Any normal human would be.
He just wanted to do something nice for you. He didn’t know how to tell you.
And you? What’s your excuse?
When the response was delayed, Isla texted again. Thought so. Goodnight. Then she turned off her phone. She’d done her part and told him where the truck was. It would have to do.
It was either the light or the voices slipping into Isla’s room the following day that woke her up. At first, she thought Mom had the TV on, but then she recognized Rowan’s baritone and buried herself deeper under her comforter. It was the right thing to do because a minute later, her door opened.
“Birdie?”
The word was muffled by layers of fabric, but Isla could picture her mom’s head peeking into the room.
“Are you awake?”
Isla held her breath, listening for footsteps. To her relief, the door closed instead, and a few minutes later, Mav’s truck rumbled alive outside.
When she was certain the coast was clear, Isla wrapped herself in an oversized cardigan and made her way to the kitchen. Sun beamed through the windows at an odd angle, which was explained when she spotted the time. Almost 2:30 PM. She’d slept over twelve hours.
She’d just reached for a mug when Nancy rounded the corner from the hallway and pulled up short.
“Oh, you’re alive.”
Isla filled the mug with water and put it in the microwave. No fancy coffee today. “Just woke up.”
“You missed Rowan. He said he’d call later. What a nice guy.”
Isla ignored her comment and dug through a drawer for the instant brew. The microwave dinged, and she retrieved the now-steaming mug.
“Birdie?” Her mom leaned a hip against the counter.
Isla stirred the brown powder into the water and watched it dissolve.
“Look at me please.”
“What?” Isla put the spoon down and turned, bringing the coffee to her lips. Too hot.
Mom tilted her head like a curious puppy. “Don’t play me for a fool here. Clearly something happened on the trip. Talk to me.”
“Fine,” Isla sighed. “Let’s sit.”
“Does it have to do with Jonah and the crash? Last we talked you said something about the feeling of going off the road. Did you remember something else?”
Isla had deliberately not mentioned Gemma to Mom in case nothing came of that lead. She knew how it looked—Jonah getting a phone message from another woman while on a weekend getaway with his wife—and since he wasn’t here to defend himself, that didn’t seem fair. “No there’s nothing new there,” Isla said. “Not really.”
“Then what?”
On the wall above the TV was her parents’ wedding photo. Bright lighting, bright smiles. In true 1980s’ style, her mom’s dress had puffed sleeves, and she wore a veil attached to a white floral headband. Her dad was in a black tux and bowtie, and his dark hair skimmed his shoulders in a sleek, feathered style. She tried to see Mav in his features, but aside from his coloring, Dad had always resembled Nana.
“I found something out about Dad and Pop-Pop,” Isla began. Then she launched into what the letters in the box had revealed and Mav’s deception.
When she finished, Nancy took off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Neil wasn’t Del’s dad?” she asked. “All those years I worked alongside Embeth, and never once did she even hint at something like this in her past. Are you sure?”
“I can show you the letters.”
“So then Maverick is your grandfather by blood. That’s… that’s something.”
“Yeah,” Isla scoffed.
“But”—Mom frowned—“that all happened an awfully long time ago. Both Neil and your dad are gone. And your nana lived a long and happy life.”
Isla had a sip of her now drinkable coffee. “Your point being?”
“You’re very upset.”
“Because they lied.”
“Mm, by omission maybe.”
Isla put her mug down with a clang. “Whose side are you on? Don’t you think Mav, if anyone, should have understood the implications of keeping me in the dark, knowing how I’ve struggled with not knowing, not remembering? This trip was a quest for answers, and instead he deliberately withheld something this big. Fuck that.”
“Language.” Mom pursed her lips. “I get it, I do, but maybe if you talk to him, and?—”
“No. I don’t want to talk to either one of them right now. I want to be left alone.” She got up from the table and put her mug away. “I know you mean well, but I’m going back to bed. I’ve got to call Louise.” Her friend was the only one left that she could count on, and tomorrow Gemma would be back in the office. She couldn’t let this stuff with Mav distract from that.
“Okay.” Mom held up her palms, capitulating. “You have a right to your feelings. I won’t interfere.”
“Thank you.”
Isla reached the doorway and had one foot in the foyer when Nancy spoke again. A timid little “But…”
Isla paused. She should have known that wasn’t the end of it. “Yes?”
“I’d advise you not to forget that Maverick is ninety years old. He won’t be around forever. And that’s all I’ll say about that.”
Isla bit down on her tongue. Dammit .
Back in her room, she texted Louise to see if she could talk, but it seemed work was busy, so eventually she dropped the news in a text. So Mav and I aren’t on speaking terms right now , she wrote. Wanted you to know.
I’m sorry , Louise responded. That’s a lot.
Finally, someone who understood.
Louise excused herself shortly after that. She had a deadline, and then she would be watching her niece after work, but she promised to call as soon as she’d been to the dentist’s office in the morning. Isla would have to make do with that.
As much as she wanted to crawl back under the covers again, she wasn’t tired enough for sleep to make sense, but after unpacking her bag, showering, and failing at several attempts to escape into a book, she still ended up on her back across the covers, staring at the ceiling.
Outside the window, the treetops swayed in a coordinated pattern with a hawk circling above, looking for prey. It would be spring soon—a time of rebirth and change that this year, by necessity, included Isla herself. She thought of helping Mom pack up the house, finding a place to live, preparing for the courses she’d have to teach. If she went back to Bellingham as was currently the plan, she’d basically be on the doorstep of Jonah’s family. She’d run in to old friends, frequent shops and restaurants that had once been part of a happier life. People would ask questions. So many questions. And she still didn’t have the answers she needed to face the past. Everything depended on tomorrow and Gemma knowing something.
That or a miracle that gave Isla her memory back.
But the universe wasn’t in a generous mood that week.
Louise called at 9:15 the following morning. Isla answered with a breathless, “Was she there?”
Traffic sounded in the background as if Louise had stepped outside. “Yes.” Loud honking came over the line. “Hold on one second.” Shuffled footsteps, then the noise muted. Louise coughed. “Um, she was. I talked to her.”
“And?” Isla’s fingers dug into her phone.
“Isla, I…” Louise paused. “I’m so sorry. She didn’t know anyone named Jonah, and she didn’t recognize his picture. I wish I had better news.”
Isla closed her eyes. Not until then had she realized just how much she’d counted on this for closure. She’d been so sure. Mav had convinced her there was meaning in taking action, Rowan had boosted her spirits, she’d thought Louise would be able to dig behind the scenes, and now it turned out it had all been in vain, and two of her companions had ultimately added insult to injury instead of making things better. What was the point?
Isla hung up and sat for a moment, staring at the phone. Then she climbed back under the covers.
Perhaps that was the problem—there was no point. This was what you got when you killed your husband.