Chapter 28 #2
I close the laptop, resolve hardening inside me. I’ll try Dr. Ezra’s meditation. I’ll make it work. Because dammit, something has to.
The meditation space I choose is a small alcove off the main living area of our suite.
I’ve pulled a floor cushion into the corner, positioned so I can see out through the floor-to-ceiling windows but remain slightly sheltered by the curve of the wall.
The afternoon light is soft, filtering through the thin desert haze.
Domhnall is still working, now moved to the private pool area where he can take calls without disturbing me. I can just see the top of his head through the window, dark hair catching the sunlight.
I settle onto the cushion, crossing my legs and resting my hands on my knees. My posture feels artificial, like I’m playing at meditation rather than actually doing it, but I push away the self-consciousness. This isn’t about looking the part.
It’s about finding Mads.
Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes, focusing on the sensation of air filling my lungs, then slowly leaving again. In, out. In, out. The rhythm of breath, the most basic sign of life.
After a few minutes, my racing thoughts begin to quiet. The constant background anxiety that’s been my companion since Mads disappeared fades to a dull hum. I’m not completely relaxed—I don’t think I’ve truly relaxed in years, if ever—but I’m as close as I get these days.
Following Dr. Ezra’s instructions, I begin to visualize a meeting place.
What comes to mind isn’t a room or a garden, but a beach—the wild, rocky shore of western Ireland where Domhnall took me a couple of months after I returned from Chicago.
The memory is vivid—gray-green water, dark stones, a sky that couldn’t decide between rain and sunshine.
We’d walked for hours along that shore, talking about everything and nothing, the wind whipping color into our cheeks.
In my visualization, I’m sitting on one of the larger rocks, watching the waves crash against the shore. The space beside me is empty. Waiting.
“Mads?” I call, my voice echoing oddly in this imagined space. “Are you there? I’d like to talk to you.”
Nothing. Just the sound of waves, the cry of distant seabirds.
I try again, putting more intention into the mental summons. “Mads, please. I need to understand what’s happening. I’m sorry I tried to send you away. But I need you back. Donny needs you.”
For a heartbeat, I think I feel something—a whisper of presence, like someone standing just behind me, out of sight. But when I turn in my mental landscape, there’s no one there. Just an empty beach stretching in both directions.
I stay in the meditation for what feels like a long time, calling out to Mads in different ways, trying different approaches.
Sometimes pleading, sometimes demanding, sometimes just sitting in silence, hoping she’ll appear on her own terms.
But the beach remains empty, the space beside me unclaimed.
And then, I can’t tell how long I’ve been sitting in the meditational space, but suddenly it’s not the beach in front of me or the ocean in the background I’m seeing and hearing.
I’m in a dark room, and someone is crying.
A slanting flash of light brightens hazel eyes in front of me in a small, round face, as if a door’s just opened in the dark.
Oh my—
Goosebumps rise, the flash of old fear.
But it’s not my father appearing at the door.
Shhh. I’m here, little love.
It’s my mother’s soothing voice and figure slipping in the door. Quickly, she scoops up my little brother from the bed beside me and walks hurriedly back out of the room.
Over her shoulder, my brother’s eyes find me. His intelligent eyes are wide in his otherwise scrunched, fearful face as she takes him away from me.
As both of them leave me forever, fleeing my father.
The pain of their loss hits me in the gut, and I heave for breath.
My eyes burst open and I leap to my feet out of the zen meditation pose.
“What the fuck was that?” I splutter, heaving for breath and putting a hand to my racing heart. “Mads?”
There’s still no answer. I blink in confusion and look around. My legs are stiff from sitting so long, and the light has shifted, casting longer shadows across the floor. Did I drift off while I was meditating? Was that just a dream? Or a memory?
I know I had a brother once, but only because Mads says so. Those memories are usually locked away from me.
I feel drained, disappointed, and not at all closer to finding Mads than I was before. I wish I could feel like the dream was a sign from her. In truth, it feels like the hauntings of a ghost.
Outside, Domhnall is no longer visible by the pool. I move stiffly toward the window, stretching out the kinks in my back and legs.
There he is—down by the main pavilion of the resort, talking to someone who appears to be one of the hiking guides, pointing toward the trails that wind up into the surrounding mesas.
Oh right. Our afternoon hike. I’d almost forgotten.
I press my forehead against the cool glass, watching Domhnall’s animated conversation.
He’s been excited about this hike ever since we arrived at Amangiri.
We’ve mostly stayed inside since it’s rained some since we’ve been here.
There’s a spa on site we’ve visited a couple times.
Otherwise we’ve spent lingering mornings in bed, making love both sweet and rough.
It’ll be good for him to get out in the sunshine.
The least I can do is put aside my disappointment and be fully present for it. For him.
Even if I can get Mads back, my time with him might still be short.
Instead of a honeymoon, this time might be an extended, bittersweet goodbye.
I can’t afford to waste a moment with him.
“The trail gets a bit steep here,” our guide, Melissa, warns as we approach a switchback climbing up the side of a mesa. “Take it slow and watch your footing.”
Domhnall reaches back to offer me his hand, and I take it gratefully. The hiking trail has been mostly easy so far—well-maintained and clearly marked—but the beating sunshine is starting to get to me.
“You doing okay, love?” Domhnall asks, his voice low enough that Melissa, a few paces ahead, won’t hear. His eyes are concerned, scanning my face for signs of fatigue or too much sun exposure..
Melissa pulls out a folded up wide brim trail hat and hands it to Domhn. He plunks it on my head and I roll my eyes.
“I’m good,” I assure him, squeezing his hand. “Just need to take it a bit slower than you mountain goats.”
He chuckles at that, slowing his pace to match mine as we navigate the switchback.
The path zigzags up the side of the mesa, offering increasingly spectacular views of the surrounding landscape with each turn.
Red rock formations stretch to the horizon, their shapes sculpted by millions of years of wind and water.
It’s humbling to think about the slow dance of erosion that created this place, one grain of sand at a time.
“Almost there,” Melissa calls back encouragingly. “The lookout point is just around this bend.”
We round the corner, and suddenly the landscape opens up before us—a vast, yawning canyon stretching toward the horizon, layers of red and gold and orange rock stepping down to a distant valley floor.
The view steals my breath, not just for its beauty but for its scale. It makes me feel insignificant.
“Wow,” I breathe out.
“I know, right?” Domhnall says, and I can tell by his voice he’s feeling what I’m feeling at the awesome sight before us.
“Careful near the edge,” Melissa cautions, though she stays close to it herself, pointing out landmarks in the distance. “The drop’s about five hundred feet to that first ledge down there.”
Domhnall moves forward first, always the more adventurous one, to stand beside Melissa. I follow more cautiously, maintaining a respectful distance from the precipice. I’ve never been particularly afraid of heights, but there’s something about this place that demands caution.
“See that formation over there?” Melissa is saying, indicating a distant spire of rock. “That’s called the Sentinel. And beyond it, you can just make out the edge of Lake Powell.”
I step forward to get a better look, my curiosity momentarily overriding my caution.
The edge is closer than I realized. As I peer over, trying to see the landmarks Melissa is pointing out, a wave of dizziness washes over me. The world seems to tilt beneath my feet, the canyon floor rushing up to meet me even though I haven’t moved.
My vision swims, and a familiar light-headedness sweeps through me—the same sensation I used to feel right before Mads would take over.
My heart lurches, a jolt of adrenaline cutting through the dizziness.
This feeling. I know this feeling.
“Anna?” Domhnall’s voice seems to come from very far away. “You all right? You’ve gone pale.”
I barely hear him, too focused on the internal shift happening inside me. Dr. Ezra said to pay attention to stuff like this. The light-headedness intensifies, the edges of my vision blurring. For a heartbeat, I think it’s happening, that Mads is finally emerging from wherever she’s been hiding.
But then Domhnall’s arm is around my waist, pulling me back from the edge, and the sensation begins to fade. By the time he’s guided me to a nearby rock to sit down, the momentary disorientation has passed, leaving only a hollowness in its wake.
“Just got a bit dizzy,” I explain, accepting the water bottle Melissa offers. “Too much sun.”
“We should head back,” Domhnall says, his brow furrowed with concern.
“No, I’m fine, really,” I protest, suddenly invigorated. “I just needed some water.”
They exchange a look, clearly unconvinced, but don’t argue further. As we rest in the shade of a stunted juniper, drinking water and admiring the view from a safer distance, my mind races with the implications of what just happened.
That feeling—the light-headedness, the blurring at the edges of my vision—that’s always been the precursor to Mads taking over. But this time, she didn’t appear. It’s like the connection was there, briefly, then lost.
It was the height and the momentary fear of standing so close to such a significant drop that triggered it.
Fear.
The realization hits me with unexpected force. Of course! Fear has always been the bridge between us—my fear creating the space for her strength and courage. It’s what called her into being in the first place, all those years ago, when I was too frightened to survive on my own.
I’ve been going about this all wrong, trying to find her through calm, controlled methods like meditation. Mads has never been calm or controlled. She’s fire and fury, reaction and impulse. She appears when I’m most afraid and vulnerable.
So if I want to find her again, maybe I need to scare myself.
Really scare myself.
The thought is both terrifying and exhilarating. I glance at the canyon edge, measuring the distance. Not here, not now, with Domhnall and Melissa watching so closely. But soon. I’ll find something that pushes me right to the edge of my comfort zone—and beyond.
“Ready to continue?” Melissa asks, checking her watch. “We should start heading back down if we want to make it before sunset.”
I nod, getting to my feet with newfound energy. “I’m ready.”
As we begin the descent, Domhnall walks close beside me, still concerned despite my assurances that I’m fine. I let him fuss, my mind already racing ahead to what comes next.
If fear is the key, then Amangiri—with its countless adventure activities, many of them designed to provide controlled doses of adrenaline—is the perfect place to find Mads again.
And if I can get her back, fuck it, somehow we’ll find a way to stay with Domhnall. Between Mads and me working together for once and not at odds, we can solve anything. I’m sure of it.