Headlights swept over my closed eyes; I opened them in time to see an unfamiliar truck park beside Derrick Yancy’s car. I heard the driver’s side door open, then close, before a man rounded the hood.
It was Mathias.
Joy burst through my blood, stronger than reason, stronger than instinct.
Malcolm sent him here…
But joy could only override sense for so long. Truth stared me down, an uncompromising force I could not deny. In this life Mathias was not mine. He was married; far worse, I knew he was a father to two children. I stood with both hands clasped at my chin, watching him approach Shore Leave. When he caught sight of me, immobile in the rainy darkness, he halted.
The next thing I knew I was in his arms.
“Camille.” He spoke against my hair, holding me so tightly I couldn’t draw a full breath. “I had to find you, I had to see you…”
Trembling and overwhelmed, I clung to him, pressing my lips to his neck, inhaling his scent the way I would inhale air after being trapped underwater. I knew I should shut my stupid mouth but I didn’t have the strength. “You’re here. I’ve missed you so much, Thias, oh God, I’ve missed you every second we’ve been apart…”
He dug his hands in my wet hair, rocking us side to side, his jaw against my temple. “I’ve dreamed about you every night since you left my parents’ attic. I’m not crazy, I swear to you, but I know I belong with you. We belong together. I’ve never known anything more right. It’s like I’ve been living in a dream world and I just woke up to the real one.” He drew back, clasping my face, thumbs tracing my lips. His voice was low and tortured, rasping over the words. “How is this possible?”
Hot tears seeped over my face, mixing with the cold rain. I knew what I had to do and I wasn’t sure I possessed enough will; I had to let him go. This version of Mathias was not mine and we could not remain in this horrible timeline in which we’d never met until now. It was my worst nightmare realized; every terrible what-if I’d ever asked, every moment I’d taken for granted. Every path that had led us to one another uprooted in this place, overturned and upended. Destroyed beyond repair.
“How?” he whispered a second time, agonized and intense. “Tell me everything. Please, trust me with this. Tell me what you told Tina.”
“I won’t do that to you.” My voice shook. “You’re a husband, a father. I know you would never do anything to hurt your children…or their mother.”
I felt his muscles tense and knew I’d struck a nerve. At last he said, “You don’t know her.” Gruff now, with strain. “We’re not happy.”
“But she’s still your wife.”
“Not in my memories. I only see you. I see us.”
“But it’s not us in this life. This life was never meant to be!” My control was crumbling and I broke away, heading for the dock.
“I don’t understand!” He followed right behind me, not about to let this go.
“Dammit, Mathias, you need to leave. I love you too much to do this to you!” I increased my pace, unable to bear looking at him.
“I knew it! I knew I wasn’t wrong.” He caught my elbow, halting my forward motion, and spun me around to face him in the wet darkness.
“Let go!” I cried, battling the image of Case dying in Tish’s arms.
“Not a chance. I love you too, don’t you hear me? I’m in love with you.”
“Don’t do this to me…” Crying now, I tried again to yank from his firm grasp.
“Who is Malcolm?” he demanded. “What does he mean to you?”
“He’s you!” I screamed, hands in fists at my sides. “You are him! Our souls have been connected through a hundred different lives and I have loved you in every last one!”
There was a sudden, tremendous commotion in the lake.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Landon, MN - July, 1882
WE REACHED LANDON THE DAY AFTER AXTON AND I HAD arrived in St. Paul.
“We’re home, dear one, come and see.” Lorie peered over her shoulder from the wagon seat as she offered this invitation. Her green-checked bonnet trailed down her back and her smile pierced my side all over again; it was my mother’s beautiful smile, warm and effortless, rife with love. Late-afternoon sun slanted against the west side of the wagon, creating a bright, oblong patch on the canvas. I lay in a restless doze, my body jostling to the rhythm of the grinding wheels, but climbed to the front of the wagon at her kind request.
I squinted as sunlight bathed my cold face, just in time to spy a wooden, hand-painted sign reading Welcome to Landon. Flowering vines bursting with blossoms climbed the sign, not to mention every fencepost in sight.
Oh –
My lips dropped open as the wagon, driven by Sawyer, rolled and creaked over Fisherman’s Street in my hometown. It was the nineteenth-century version of Fisherman’s Street, a narrow dirt track instead of smooth pavement bordered by concrete sidewalks, but I would have known it anywhere. The pine trees that guarded the south end of the road were only saplings but Flickertail glimmered wide and blue just a few hundred yards north, totally unchanged. My eyes darted left and right, conjuring up the buildings I remembered which had not yet been constructed – Anglers Inn, Eddie’s Bar, the post office, the hardware store…there was the exact spot where my family
