Chapter Eighteen
Levi
B almy September sunshine streamed through the sliding glass doors, casting a warm glow over the kitchen table where Marigold and I were seated, indulging in freshly made pancakes.
I’d hardly slept, yet for some reason, I was wide awake. Hours had passed as I contemplated how to tell Marigold all I’d learned since the day I found her. Should I be serious? Nonchalant? Apologetic?
She drizzled syrup over her pancakes and took a bite, butter oozing into the thick brown liquid and pooling on her plate.
Two untouched pancakes sat before me. Nervous energy kept my foot bouncing beneath the table.
I stood, pushing my chair back. If I was going to do this then I needed to do it now. “Would you like to sit outside with me for a spell? There’s something we should talk about.”
“And leave the pancakes?”
“We’ll warm them in the oven later. Please?”
Pouting, she set her fork and knife on the plate, then accompanied me to the porch.
Finn had been camped beneath the kitchen table and wasn’t thrilled that we were leaving without at least dropping a morsel for him. He looked at the table laden with food and then followed us outside, his tail limp.
In the daylight, the white lights Marigold called “twinkle lights” glittered as sunlight shot rays through their glass caps.
We sat beneath the canvas canopy and faced each other.
“I need to tell you the truth,” I said. What a terrible start. It sounded like I’d been lying to her.
“What?” she said.
Doubts assailed me. I straightened the lights on the closest railing and considered backtracking. What if telling her didn’t shorten the distance between us? What if it made it worse?
This was a bad idea. Perhaps my confession had less to do with being honest and more to do with my desire to share my feelings. I wanted to tell her everything because honesty multiplied trust. If we trusted each other then maybe we could become more than just friends.
Was telling her a form of manipulation? I didn’t want that. But what else could I do?
She moved to the far end of the bench, pulled her feet onto the wood and crossed them, facing me.
It was hard to keep my thoughts straight with her staring at me like that.
“You’re making me nervous,” she said.
“Don’t be.” She deserved the truth. I was hurting both of us by keeping it from her.
Donner may have known a thing or two about writing, but he’d never once experienced the pressure of hiding a secret like this from a grown woman. A woman I may have loved if I permitted myself. “It’s about the night you lost your memory.”
The wind blew through the leaves and pine branches, shifting her hair around her shoulders and face. She hugged her knees. “You’ve been keeping something from me?”
“No. Sort of.” I fiddled with the lights once more and dug my fingers into Finn’s fur for a long pet. “I swear I’m not crazy.” What was I doing with my hands? This was going terribly.
“Okay,” she said.
“I’m sorry I haven’t told you sooner. Keeping it from you any longer seems dishonest.”
“Levi,” she said firmly, her blue-green eyes boring into me. “Tell me.”
“Right, I’m rambling. Sorry.” With shaking breath, I told her about the night of Lillian’s wedding, the journal, passing out, and then finding her. “I kept this from you because I understand how it sounds.”
She bit her bottom lip.
I waited for her to respond. Finn squirmed.
“I’m not sure what to say.”
That wasn’t a negative response. “Say what you’re thinking.”
Her lips pursed. Then, finally, she spoke. “Let’s backtrack. Are you suggesting that you . . . made me? That you're responsible for my existence and the fact that I don’t have any memories?”
When she put it like that . . .
Finn whined as I clutched him too tightly. “I thought it was crazy, too, I assure you. But Donner told me—”
“You’re getting your information from Donner ? The guy who just last week told me he names the squirrels in his backyard before shooting them for dinner?”
“You’re right to be skeptical. I understand this sounds bananas. But—” I gestured to Finn. “I wrote him too.”
She stared at Finn. “Why would you make something so ugly? No offense, Finn.”
Finn wagged his tail and opened his mouth for a signature-smile pant. It was as if he were saying, No offense taken.
Turning back to me, she said, “Levi, I don’t understand why you’re saying these things. I knew you were still struggling with your dad’s death, but . . . ”
If I could script this conversation, Marigold would cycle through emotions like the wind circulated from the mountain to the valley—initially hurt, then forgiving. She’d be angry and then get over it. She’d accept my account without reservation. Then, in my wildest imaginations, she would fall in love with me.
How could I help her believe me? “I didn’t make this up. Donner said it’s happened before. You’re not the first person to be written onto the mountain.”
“Levi, please. Do you hear how crazy you sound?”
I’d been wondering if I was crazy for weeks. “Yes, I know. That’s why I haven’t shared this with you until now. It sounds insane. I sound insane. That’s why I waited. But every word I’ve said is the truth.”
She was quiet for a moment. Finally, she said, “I don’t believe you.”
Her words hit me like a head on collision with a truck, knocking the wind out of me. This rejection stung deeply; a fear turned reality that I detested facing head-on. “That’s fair,” I said. “But what other explanation could there be for you to have not have any memories?”
My brain fastened on an image, and I snapped my fingers. “I can prove it. Do you recall the morning after you arrived? When you told me about your boyfriend, and I somehow knew his hair color?”
Her confidence faltered. This had bugged her too. “Yeah.”
“The exact scene you described was in a movie I’d watched the night before. You remembered something from my subconscious.”
“That could have been a lucky guess.” Worry lines crinkled her forehead.
“I realize it sounds nuts, but it’s real. Donner explained that the mountain is named Ghost Mountain because of the ghosts born here.”
She swallowed and turned her face away. “Please, Levi, don’t do this. If I made you want to push me away—”
“You didn’t do anything.”
She unfolded her legs and stood. “Then why would you attack the thing that means the most to me? You know I want my memories back. You know how much I desire to know myself.”
I matched her stance. “That’s why we’re having this conversation. I couldn’t go another day without telling you.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “Please, Levi,” she begged. “Tell me the truth. I know you know something about me, but this can’t be it.”
Finn positioned himself between us as I tried to step in her direction. I halted, lifted a hand to touch her, then let it fall to my side. “It’s the truth,” I whispered.
“I can’t accept that,” she said.
“I’m not lying.”
She stepped backward. “Why—” she paused, turning toward the valley. “Why did you stop kissing me?”
Finn moved just enough for me to stand beside her. Taking a chance, I touched my knuckles against her hand. She pulled away.
“Because I needed to tell you about the journal first.”
She shook her head. “No. You still love Lillian.” Lines of hurt marred her face.
I had to help her understand. “Part of me will always love Lillian. But I don’t think about her anymore. Not since you.”
“Levi.” Her voice was hoarse. “Why did you . . . ” Then her fist clenched, and she whirled on me. “Why did you have to lie? We were happy. I was enjoying breakfast. I think you’re afraid to love someone again, so you’re pushing me away on purpose. It’s fine. I’ll go.” She walked off the porch.
“Go?” I ran after her. “Go where ?”
Instead of answering, she marched into her room and started to shove clothes into bags.
Desperation ran through me. “Please,” I said. “I don’t love Lillian like that. I promise. I was starting to fall for you. That’s why I told you. Not to push you away. I didn’t want there to be any barriers between us.” My heart pounded as my words came fast through quick breaths.
She scoffed. “I can’t tell if you believe this or if you’re simply trying to manipulate me.”
No. No. No. This was supposed to be the total opposite of manipulation. How had this backfired? “I would never try to manipulate you.”
Tears welled in her eyes.
This couldn’t be happening. If I could reach back in time, I’d snatch the secret back, even if it broke us. At least that tearing would have been slow. This was too much, too fast.
I watched helplessly as she packed and then threw the bags into the back of her red truck.
Without a hug or even a slight smile, she left.
My heart dropped into my stomach. I’d lost Marigold.
Marigold
I didn’t let the tears fall until I was rolling to a stop in the valley. They flooded my eyes, their warmth searing my cheeks.
Levi thought he could find a solution for my memory loss? He thought he could be my savior by pretending to be the man who created me?
What a joke.
The problem was this: I cared for Levi.
Tears still leaked from my eyes when I parked in front of Ezra’s house.
Wait. Ezra’s house?
I’d been driving on autopilot, but now that I was there, it made sense. Beth had offered to let me stay the morning after Levi and I had met. But I couldn’t ask her. That would be too . . . weird.
Ezra was my only option.
Before knocking on his door, I sat for a few minutes, debating if I’d made the wrong choice in leaving Levi. I could still go back.
No. I couldn’t.
The tale he spun about writing me in a book and then magically finding me on his doorstep couldn’t be real. I would not fall for the lore of the mountain. Stories were just that. Stories. People didn’t invent people with words. I would not be tricked into believing that I didn’t have a past.
No, I didn’t have any memories dating before the night I woke in the woods—but that didn’t mean my existence was proof of magic.
It simply meant I had amnesia. Long-term amnesia. I still went to bed most nights hoping I’d wake with my memory in the morning. It hadn’t happened yet, but it would. Someday.
At least, I hoped.
Ezra’s frame darkened the screen. He pushed the door open, stepped outside, and waved.
I waved back.
With a sigh, I turned off the engine.
His voice carried across the lawn as he said, “I wasn’t expecting you today.”
I debated if I should trade pleasantries or get right to the point. Who was I kidding? I didn’t have the guts to ask if I could live with him here on the lawn. Pleasantries it was.
“Is now a good time to find that truck part?” Maybe the opportunity to ask him about the living situation would arrive on our trip to the truck graveyard.
“It’s a little early yet. I’ve just put on a pot of coffee. Why don’t you come in for a spell?”
That might work too.
Once we stepped onto the porch, I followed him into his sleek kitchen, adorned with stainless steel appliances and a massive fridge boasting double doors. After retrieving two coffee cups from the cupboard brimming with an assortment of mugs, he poured the rich, fragrant brew from a weathered coffee pot.
As he began to pour, I halted him with a raised hand. “That’s enough.”
“I’m sorry. I should have asked if you liked coffee first. We’ve never seen each other this early. Please excuse me. Mari, do you like coffee? If so, how do you like it?”
“I prefer less coffee and more cream and sugar.”
He poured in the cream and let me stir in the sugar. Then we moved to the living room couch, our feet propped on the low table, mugs in hand.
“It’s a beautiful morning,” he said. “I was just—”
“I need to talk.”
“Okay,” he said, giving me ample space to gather my thoughts. His languid posture and presence calmed me.
Telling Ezra about Levi’s stories made me squirm. I didn’t believe them, but they still felt private, raw, and vulnerable. Something nagged at me, and I couldn’t put my finger on what it was.
I could pretend this was a social visit before driving to the mountain to seek Levi’s forgiveness. Nope, that wasn’t an option either.
I had two choices:
Go back to the man who lied—or I could ask Ezra for a place to stay. He was keeping secrets, but he hadn’t been untruthful to me.
So far, at least.
“Levi and I had a disagreement.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “So you came here to gather yourself and visit the truck graveyard?”
“Sort of. I left after the argument.”
He paused. “What do you mean you left ? You’re saying it like it means more than the fact that you drove to my house, which is obvious.”
This was the tricky part. The coffee mug burned my cupped hands. I’d already gotten this far.
“No. I packed my bags.”
He set his mug aside without taking a drink. “I deeply desire to know what that argument was about. But for the sake of your privacy, I won’t ask.” He stared at me pointedly as if to say, See? I don’t need to know your secrets. We can be friends without sharing everything.
I wasn’t so sure. Not when the thing he kept from me involved a bash on his head and raw knuckles. The bruise looked the same as it did yesterday. An array of colors atop healing skin. This wasn’t the time to argue.
“Thank you,” I said. “I appreciate that.”
He waited.
“I, um, I hoped your offer still stands.”
He blinked, retrieved his mug, and took a sip. “Yes. It does.”
“I’m talking about when you offered to let me stay here.”
He gave a small nod. “I’m aware that’s what we’re speaking about, yes.”
“And you’re still okay with it?”
“Certainly.”
I had to be sure. “Just like that?”
“No strings attached.”
“I didn’t want to assume.”
“Mari. Stop. You are welcome here. I have a guest room.”
This was easier than I expected. “Thank you.”
A knock at the door startled me, causing coffee to spill over my mug and onto my shorts. I spun to see Beth and Courtney with their noses pressed against the screen as they peered into the living room.
Ezra chuckled. “Come in, Mother. Mrs. Shaw.”
The door flung open. “Marigold, how are you today?” Beth’s gaze darted between the two of us. She was obviously trying to discern the nature of our relationship. How could I live with Levi but be here, with Ezra? She was in for a surprise.
“Good morning,” I stammered.
Ezra warmly embraced Courtney as she balanced a glass pan covered in foil. “Mari, have you met my mother?”
“Briefly. At church.”
She shifted the pan to her other arm and reached out her hand toward me. “I’m Courtney King. It’s a pleasure to meet you again.”
Her name reminded me of the day Levi and I hiked to the waterfall and found the initials DES & Courtney carved into the tree. Could this be the Courtney who etched her name into the wood with a penknife dozens of years ago?
“I–I’m glad we met again.” Why was I stuttering?
“Marigold is staying with Levi,” Beth said. “She has amnesia.”
“I remember.”
I felt like a rare bird at the zoo under her scrutiny.
Ezra cleared his throat. “She’s not living with Levi anymore.”
Beth’s brows came together to form the shape of the letter V . “Is Levi okay?”
“Yes,” I jumped in. “He’s fine.”
The woman who welcomed me into her home, sat beside me at football games, gave me Levi’s jersey, and greeted me with the warmest hugs now looked like I’d broken her heart. “Oh,” she uttered as the spunk drained from her face.
When I left Levi, I hadn’t considered how it would affect his sweet mother.
Courtney broke the awkward silence. “I brought the cinnamon rolls I promised.”
Ezra accepted the offered pan. “They smell delicious.”
I couldn’t think straight as Beth pasted a smile over her forlorn expression. “Well, it’s delightful to see you, Marigold,” she said. “I should go.”
Courtney didn’t turn with her friend. Instead, she kept her stare on me like she was sizing me up as a suitable match for her son.
“Mother?”
She blinked.
“Thanks again for the cinnamon rolls,” Ezra said.
She forced her gaze away. “Of course. They’re your favorite.”
“Mother and Mrs. Shaw are always baking,” he said with a jovial grin, maybe trying to break the strange tension emanating from both older women. “I’m lucky to live next door.”
Courtney smiled. “We’ll get out of your way. Tillie Brown’s husband passed two days ago, and we plan to deliver a pan of brownies and a chicken casserole.”
“See what I mean?” Ezra said. “Always in the kitchen. And thinking of those in need.”
Beth glanced back, then the screen door shut behind them.
The sound of crinkling aluminum distracted me as Ezra pulled back the foil on the glass pan. A whiff of cinnamon made my mouth water.
“These will pair perfectly with breakfast.”
I pushed aside Beth’s disappointment and Courtney’s strange fascination with me to focus on Ezra’s solid body beside mine and the aroma of the food. “Breakfast? I only saw coffee.” I remembered the forgotten pancakes on the kitchen table at the cabin.
“Exactly,” Ezra said.
I walked into the kitchen and watched as he placed two rolls on a plate, covered them with a paper towel, and then set them in the microwave. He leaned his backside against the counter as the machine whirred.
“I’m sorry for my mother’s behavior,” he said. “She’s not normally so . . . intense .”
I crossed my arms. “I’m afraid I’ve disappointed Beth.”
“This is a strange situation,” he said. “You living with Levi first and now me? But I think they’ll warm to the idea. My mother has been protective ever since my dad went away.”
Courtney’s stare didn’t resemble that of a concerned mother. She looked like she knew something about me. Like she knew me.
The microwave dinged.
Ezra set two forks beside the plate of warm, gooey rolls.
I wasn’t hungry.
“Are you okay?” he asked in a gentle voice.
“Just distracted.”
He set the sweet aside. “Would you like to get your mind off things?”
More than anything. I nodded.
“Your things are in the truck?”
I nodded again, too overwhelmed to risk saying too much and voicing my fears and sadness.
“I’ll grab your bags, and then we’ll go drive somewhere,” he said.
Instead of arguing, I let him go.
Echoes of my argument with Levi resurfaced.
“Every word I’ve told you is the truth.”
If what he said was true, then the eerie hours spent wandering through the dense forest aligned with a strange logic. The absence of any form of identification, the void of social media presence, and the lack of a name for authorities to trace suddenly found an explanation in his narrative. It explained why my memories weren’t returning.
But Levi’s story couldn’t be true.
It couldn’t.
Doubt clawed at my mind as I sank forward, hands meeting my temples in an attempt to quell the throbbing ache that pierced through my skull.
But what if it was?