Chapter Twenty-Eight
Levi
The girl, her hair a vibrant shade of red that seemed to defy nature, nervously bit down on both her lips in contemplation. While she was occupied with formulating a response, I surveyed our surroundings. Towering beside me was a jagged cliff that rose into the heavens.
She was right; we were at the base of Skeleton Cliff.
The last thing I remembered was lying in a sleeping bag at my campsite the day before Lillian’s wedding. I had a two-hour hike to my truck and then a twenty-minute drive to the valley.
But if I fell asleep at my campsite—alone—then how did I end up here with a freckled stranger who seemed to know my family’s history?
“Do you know my name?” she whispered, the sunset glittering in her glassy eyes.
I hated making girls cry, but I couldn’t lie. “No. I’m sorry.”
“What do you remember?”
I told her my most recent memories and rubbed my arms. July wasn’t this cold. Looking around, I noticed the gold leaves clinging to spindly branches. The smell of decaying forest and frosty nights enveloped us almost as if Christmas were near. But that couldn’t be right.
Panic seized me. “ Wh--what? Why are the trees bare?”
She recognized the terror shaking my limbs. “What are you talking about?”
“It feels like fall.”
“Yes. It’s the first week of November.”
I caught myself on a jutting rock. “That’s not possible.”
She touched my arm. “Levi. Here’s the book you used to write me and Finn to life. The poem that brought you back to life too.”
I didn’t take it. “Listen, I don’t mean to be rude, but that’s insane.”
She snorted. “That’s what I thought a few hours ago. You tried to convince me otherwise.” She turned to the unmoving dog. “We can’t leave him like that.”
It took a while, but we finally dug a shallow grave and then piled rocks over him.
Focusing on her kept my body from shaking. I needed to get to my truck. I needed my phone—more specifically, the calendar on my phone—to sort everything out.
“Do you remember the accident?” she asked as we huffed upward.
“Accident?”
“Your momma’s at the hospital in Chattanooga.”
This day was getting weirder and weirder. “Tell me everything.”
By the time we arrived at the truck, her version of events had unfolded to me, leaving me uncertain about its credibility. I found my phone in the cupholder and tapped the screen. It was Saturday, November 7th. A missed call from Colton and a text message awaited me.
Colton: How’s mom?
Thankfully, I was seated in the driver’s seat. If I had been standing, I might have collapsed under the magnitude of this revelation.
Everything the girl said had been true.
I cranked the engine. “Let’s go to the hospital.”
“If Ezra’s there, you can get the book from him.”
Gravel spun under my tires as I slammed the accelerator. “If he thinks I’m dead, he’s long gone.”
The skeletal trees reached their bony branches toward us in the fading light. “What did you say your name was?”
“Marigold.”
A wave of static clouded my thoughts before clarity returned like an old TV adjusting its signal. Her words resonated with a distant memory.
“Your tale about being a ghost sounds like one of the mountain legends.”
Her crimson locks gleamed under the fading light as she cryptically stated, “Perhaps some legends are true.”