“It’s not safe, June.”
Hearing him say my name sent another chill up my spine. There was no formality in it. No edge of uncertainty. His mouth moved around it like he’d said it a thousand times.
“Who are you?” I asked.
He pressed a hand to his forehead, as if there was pain there. “My name is Eamon,” he said, impatient. “Eamon Stone.”
“Why do you have a picture of me in your house?” I blurted out. I was cold all over now.
“Come with me and I’ll tell you.”
“No. Tell me now.”
His face changed as he measured his words. “I know you. You just don’t know me yet.”
“Yet?” I stilled, watching him. The panic I’d felt standing in that bedroom with that picture frame in my hands was now terror. “How do you know me?”
His hands fell heavily to his sides, fingers curling into fists. “Look, you need to come with me.”
I took another step deeper into the water before his eyes snapped up to the road. I could hear another car pulling onto the shoulder behind the trees.
Eamon shifted on his feet before he set the hat back on his head and a car door opened. There were footsteps moving behind the brush.
“Everything all right?” a man’s voice called out.
“Yeah.” Eamon smiled at whoever stood on the road, but it looked wrong on his face.
“Saw your truck.”
A man in an old style of police uniform appeared at the top of the bank, attention on Eamon. He had one thumb hooked in his belt as he wiped a handkerchief across his brow, and the badge on his chest was engraved with the word DEPUTY. He froze when he saw me.
“June? That you?”
I looked to Eamon, the cinching feeling around my lungs now an excruciating pain. What the hell was happening?
Eamon’s eyes bored into mine, like he was truly afraid of what I might say. “Just got back,” he stammered, turning so that he was half blocking the man’s view.
Back? From where?
The man stepped aside, trying to see me. His hand absently moved from his belt, and I had the fleeting thought that it could be drifting toward the gun at his hip.
“Well, it’s good to see you. Your mama doin’ all right?”
I looked from him to Eamon. My mother? Susanna?
My mouth opened, but before I could speak, Eamon was cutting in again.
“Much better,” he answered, eyes shooting to me. The muscles in his throat tightened, and he gave me an almost undetectable nod of his head.
“Yeah.” I swallowed, taking my cue from him. I didn’t know what else to do.
“Good.”
I nodded awkwardly.
His gaze moved to my feet. “Everything okay?”
I looked down, remembering that I was standing calf-deep in the river. My boots were completely submerged now.
“Yeah,” I said, more loudly than was necessary. I was still out of breath.
The man looked confused, but before he could ask any more questions, I trudged back up the rocks, to where Eamon stood. Behind his truck, the glossy black-and-white paint of the police car reflected the sun. A single red light was fixed to the hood.
I didn’t even see Eamon moving before his arm came around me, hand hooking my waist. I stared at it, watching his fingers curl into my shirt. He pulled me closer to him, but I could feel the tension coiled tight around his body. Whatever was happening, Eamon was doing his best to smooth it over.
“Well, like I said, it’s good to have you back.” The officer was still watching me intently. “Been a hell of a year.”
I nodded again, keeping my mouth shut. I wasn’t going to risk saying or asking anything that would make this more complicated. Not before I could figure out what exactly was going on here.
The officer tipped his hat before he walked back to the car, opening the door with one more look in our direction.
“I, uh.” He hesitated before he glanced to Eamon. “I’ll need to let the sheriff know.” He said it as if he were apologizing.
“Of course.” Eamon nodded, his voice finding a more convincing ease. “Don’t worry about it, Sam.”
The deputy got into the car, and Eamon lifted a hand in the air before it disappeared around the curve in the road. As soon as it was gone, he dropped his arm from where it was wrapped around me, eyes pinching closed for just a moment. When he finally turned to look at me, it was with a coldness that made me recoil.
“Get in the goddamn truck.”
He didn’t say a word as he walked up the bank, not even looking back to make sure I would follow. For a moment, I considered refusing, but beneath the anger, that look on Eamon’s face had been desperate. He didn’t just know me. I also had the sense that he was trying to protect me. As we stood on the riverbank with that police officer, there’d been an undeniable fear in his eyes.
The engine started up as I opened the door and climbed in. Eamon didn’t wait for it to close before he hit the gas.
“I told you to stay put,” he said, grip tight on the steering wheel. “What the hell were you thinking?”
I studied the inside of the truck. It was an old farm rig with wooden railings fit to the bed and mismatched tires that had probably blown in the fields. Straw and dirt covered the floor where the mats were missing, and the radio dial was fogged over, the numbers illegible.
We were headed back the way I’d come, away from town. I watched the steeple of the church disappear behind us.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
Eamon stared at the road.
“You said that if I came with you, you’d tell me what’s going on.”
“I don’t know what’s going on.” He ground it out one punctuated word at a time, his accent deeper now.
“You know a hell of a lot more than I do. What did you mean, I don’t know you yet?”
He let his eyes land on me for just a moment before he pulled them away again. “We met five years ago. If you don’t recognize me, it’s because it hasn’t happened yet—for you.”
“How is that even possible?”
“How is any of this possible?” His voice rose.
And that’s when I saw it—the glint of gold on his left hand. A wedding ring.
“Oh my god.” I leaned forward, putting my head in my hands and trying to breathe.
“I came home one day and you were gone. I haven’t seen you since,” he said. “That’s all I know.”
“When was that?”
“Almost a year ago.”
I closed my eyes, trying to breathe. A year ago was when my episodes had started. When everything changed. Could that timing be a coincidence?
“It wasn’t me,” I choked out. “It couldn’t have been me.”
“It was you. I think I know my own wife.”
I shook my head, wishing I could unhear those words. “I’m telling you that I have never been here before. I’ve never met you.”
He cranked the wheel, and the truck jostled left to right as it turned. I grabbed hold of the handle above my head to keep from hitting the window, and as soon as I saw what lay ahead, I sat up straighter, leaning closer to the glass.
A relieved breath left my lips.
The Adeline River Flower Farm sat back from the road, framed by the mountains in the distance. The house was a different shape, but it was still the same one I’d grown up in. The windows were in the same place, the porch and steps just like I remembered. But the front room that had now become our office wasn’t built yet. Instead, that part of the yard was covered in ferns and a chicken coop framed with gridded wire. Behind it, the rise of land was covered in rows of flowers in full or partial bloom.