“What are you doing?” he demanded, low-voiced and astonished, catching my wrists in both hands. “Who are you? How do you know me?”
“It’s me, it’s Tish. Patricia Gordon. I know everything about you, sweetheart, I even know your horse. That’s Cider, right there, and we’ve ridden double on her dozens of times, out there into the foothills.” I indicated eastward with a tilt of my head, observing the way his eyes registered both undiluted shock and increasing fluster. I pratted on, believing I was gaining momentum. “I know this is crazy, it seems crazy to you because something is so wrong, Case. I don’t know what’s happened, but somehow everything has been changed. I don’t know how this happened but I intend to find out. I promise you I will find out. Just earlier tonight we were at The Spoke with Garth and Becky, and Mathias and Camille, and then…and then…”
Despite everything he had not released my wrists. He’d gently removed my hands from his face but held them now between us, our arms bent in tight, acute triangles. His thumbs enclosed my bones, which felt so fragile in the strength of his long fingers. I caught the scent of whiskey on his breath and my heart constricted further; in our normal life he had long since given up drinking hard liquor. I truly did not believe I was imagining that he was currently a man radiating with lonely despair. I longed so deeply to wrap him in my full embrace that it hurt my limbs to remain immobile. His eyes drove into mine and I knew there was a part of him that wanted to believe me.
And so I continued babbling. “Then I talked to Derrick on the phone and he told me that Franklin Yancy is really Fallon Yancy, they’re the same person, Case, that was the detail we were missing before. Derrick said that Fallon has done something terrible, sweetheart, to hurt us. To hurt Marshall and Ruthie, and everyone we love. You have to trust me.”
Lynnette had closed the distance between us and overheard my last few words. “Are you fucking kidding me, Case, you’re actually listening to this crazy bitch?” She grabbed my upper arm and yanked me around to face her; under normal circumstances such behavior would have activated a sort of Gran-style offense mode and my normal assertive self would have shrieked to existence, but I had been hollowed out by desperation. Lynnette wasn’t quite tall enough to meet my gaze head on, but rage lent her height; I didn’t fight her grip.
“Let go!” Case ordered her harshly, coming between us. But instead of sheltering me he hooked an arm around Lynnette’s waist and hauled her a few paces away, next grasping her shoulders and speaking with a sincerity that lacerated my breaking heart. “Lynn, come on, please calm down. I do not know this woman, all right? Would you listen to me? I don’t know what’s going on here. I swear I’m just as surprised as you are.”
“Well, she sure knows you!” Lynnette twisted free to confront me yet again. “How do you know my husband? Are you from around here?”
“No,” I whispered, staring at Case, who stared right back. The tilt of his wide shoulders told me with no words that he was strung with indecision, but he remained silent. I didn’t advance toward him this time as I implored, “Can we drive over to the Rawleys? They’ll still be up. Maybe they’ll remember, maybe they can help you remember.” My tortured mind had missed a detail and I demanded, “Is Marshall home? When was the last time you saw him?”
Maybe I’d already known it was coming as Case asked, “Who’s Marshall? Who are the Rawleys?”
Despite the intensifying doom, I could not stop badgering. “What do you mean? Clark and Faye helped raise you! Garth and Marshall are your best friends. They’ve been your neighbors all your life. Their ranch is only minutes from here.”
Case gripped the nape of his neck with both hands, conveying increasing concern. He slowly shook his head, elbows pointed at the sky. “No, you’re mistaken. There’s never been a family by that name in Jalesville.” Having brought Lynnette under partial control of her emotions, he addressed me now with quiet courtesy. “Ma’am, I apologize, I truly do, but I don’t know these people. And…” He paused for an eternal second, his gaze holding mine. “And I don’t know you.”
Had I been summarily gutted with a dull fishing knife it would not have hurt worse.
I could not accept these statements as truth. Maybe it was selfishness, or pure desperation, but in that moment I exercised zero control; I didn’t consider how what I was saying could hurt him, or Lynnette, as I cried, “Case, oh God, please listen to me! You do know me. Somewhere inside, you have to know me. I’m in love with you. Where I just came from, we were married. I was pregnant…with our little girl.” Sobs broke through and I covered my mouth with both hands.
“I knew it, Case! You son of a bitch!” Lynnette was at it in full force again.
“Shut the hell up!” I directed my monstrous agony at her, fair or not. “You have absolutely nothing to do with this!”
She rocketed toward me, fury twisting her face, hands fisted. “Case is my husband, you bitch. I will not shut up. Get the fuck off our property!”
Camille was at my side in an instant, curling me close, the protector now, just as I had been earlier this nightmarish evening. Weeping, devastated,
