Intertwined

dead at that time, only speaking of her in past tense all left Mary Ann reeling.

At the time he’d written these journals, her mother had been alive and well and caring for Mary Ann at home. And why couldn’t he let others know that he loved her, his own wife? Wasn’t that something husbands and wives were supposed to be proud of?

Trembling, Mary Ann read on….

March 1

My second session with Subject A.

A fight had erupted the day before, all of the patients in a frenzy. Seems A told one of the patients he was going to die that day with a fork to the throat. That patient became angered and attacked A. The patients around them jumped into the fray. The hospital staff rushed to the group and began pulling them apart, injecting them with sedatives. But at the bottom of the pile, they found the patient A had predicted would die. He’d had a fork buried deep into his throat, blood pooling around him.

A hadn’t done it, that much we know. He’d managed to work himself out of the flailing throng and press himself against the wall, forked himself, in the side. Plus, another patient still had his hand wrapped around the utensil, shoving the metal prongs deeper. Had the patient committed murder because of what Aden had said? How had A known the guy had hidden a fork in his sleeve, though? Had he seen it and hoped the guy would use it the way he described? A self-fulfilling prophecy?

When I asked A these questions, he gave me no answers. Poor kid. He probably thought he’d get in trouble. Or maybe it was guilt. Or pain. I have to reach him, have to gain his trust.

March 4

After my prior encounter with Subject A, I was still a little shaken. Maybe I should have waited to see him again. Maybe then this third session wouldn’t have proven to be our last.

A was different today. There was something about him…his eyes had been too old for his age, filled with knowledge no eleven-year-old should have. I had trouble looking at him.

At first, everything progressed as I’d hoped. He’d begun to answer my questions, not evading as usual, but finally allowing me a peek inside his mind and why he does the things that he does. Why he says the things that he says. What he really thinks is going on in his head. His answer—four human souls are trapped inside him.

I dismissed the claim as his way of coping with what was happening to him. Until he mentioned Eve. That intrigued me. Eve was a person who can supposedly time travel. Just as my wife claimed to be able to do.

Everything A said meshed with her accounting. They didn’t simply venture to the past, but into their own lives. They changed things. They knew things. Add in their similar disappearances and the fact that A’s eyes had flashed to a hazel-brown when they were usually black…for a moment it was as though I was talking to Mary Ann’s mother.

The sensation disturbed me, I admit it, disturbed me so much I went a little crazy myself. I even threw A out of my office. The only way he could have known about my wife was by raiding my office, unlocking my file cases and reading my private journals.

Either that, or he was telling the truth.

Part of me, the part that had always longed to prove my wife had not been mentally ill, had wanted to believe him. But how could I believe A when I hadn’t believed her? I had hurt her, each and every time she’d tried to explain her experiences to me. I had destroyed her confidence, made her think she was crazy. To believe A, a relative stranger, was to admit she’d been right and I’d hurt her for no reason.

How could I live with the guilt of hurting the woman I loved? I couldn’t, and I knew it. So I kicked A out and left the institution. I even quit my job. I mean, the kid mentioned my daughter. Had spoken of her with utter confidence—had spoken of things he couldn’t possibly know. Or shouldn’t know. I’ve never been so stunned and upset in my life.

To believe he’s right…I can’t. I just can’t. And even if the things he told me come true…I can’t.

May 8

It’s like my wife has died all over again. I can’t get A out of my head. I find myself thinking about him, wondering how he is, what he’s doing, who is treating him. But I won’t allow myself to pick up the phone and check on him. I’m not objective about that boy. I couldn’t help the love of my life, so I certainly can’t help him. A clean break is best. Isn’t it? I used to think so. Now, two powerful words haunt me.

What if…

My current wife sees my preoccupation and believes I’m thinking of another woman. One I love more than her. I try to tell her that isn’t true, but we both know it is. I have never loved her the way I should. I’ve always loved another.

I never should have gone to that institution. I never should have taken on A’s case.

So many questions, Mary Ann thought, dazed. And so many things no longer made sense. This time her dad had spoken of both a wife and a “current” wife. One was a mentally ill woman who had given birth to her. The other was perfectly sane and had raised her. They were one and the same, though, so two wives shouldn’t have been possible. Unless…

Had the woman who raised her not been her birth mother? Again, that didn’t make sense. Mary Ann looked like her mother. They shared the same blood type. There was no doubt they were related.

And there was no doubt her mother had loved her more than anything in the world, as a real mother would. The woman had nursed her when sick, held her when she’d cried. Had sung and danced with her when she was happy. They’d had tea parties together and raced Barbie Corvettes. If Mary Ann knew nothing else, she knew she’d been loved.

Was it possible her dad had married two different women who’d looked just alike? The first had given birth to her, and the second had raised her? It was a possibility, she supposed, if far-fetched. But if so, why had he never told her?

Though she didn’t want to, she gave the journal to Riley. He stared at the bound leather for a long while before focusing on her. He didn’t say anything, just leaned forward and pressed their lips together. Soft, sweet, offering comfort.

Tears burned her eyes. “Take it back to the office, please. I don’t want him to know I took it.”

Riley nodded and left, his gaze staying on her until he disappeared around the corner. He didn’t return to her bedroom. The sun was already rising, and he had to get back. She knew that, but she missed him anyway. He’d held her while she’d read, offering what reassurance he could.

She couldn’t go to school today. She was too raw inside. She needed solitude. That’s not the only reason. Being away from her dad, away from Aden, even away from Riley, would give her the time she needed to think. Again, you’re evading. This mystery surrounding her mother disturbed her. She needed time to process it. Liar.

She wiped a budding tear from the corner of her eye. Fine. She needed Riley. Wanted his arms around her again. Wanted to talk to him, present her questions and hear his thoughts. Why had he gone? Where had he gone? To collect Victoria and escort her to school? Wasn’t he supposed to protect Mary Ann now? To protect her, he needed to be with her.

At the very least, he should have said goodbye.

God, when had she become so needy?

That doesn’t matter right now. Only one thing did, and that was Aden. He’d been right, she thought. Her dad really had thrown him out of his office. Because he’d loved her mom—her real mom? A woman who had been a little bit crazy? — and Aden had awakened memories of her that had sent him into a tailspin of uncertainty?

Pot and pans began banging downstairs and she knew her dad was up. She rose from bed, showered and dressed as if she planned to go to school. In the kitchen, her dad had breakfast prepared and waiting on the table. Scrambled eggs and toast. He was in his usual chair, hidden behind a paper. The thing that proved how upset he was was the colorlessness of his knuckles as he clutched the sports section.

There was nothing she could say to soothe him—not without admitting what she knew. And if she began talking to him, she knew she would ask questions he wasn’t yet ready to answer. Questions with answers she would be better off finding on her own. He was hiding something from her, and she didn’t want him to have the chance to lie to her.

It was odd, knowing her dad had secrets. Odd, disappointing and yeah, upsetting. He’d promised to be open