“I can’t imagine never having learned,” she said kindly. “My name’s Lola, by the way.”
“That’s a very pretty name,” Owen said.
She gave him a watery smile. “My son who made such a fuss today is Max.”
Maria tsked and walked away, carrying on down the road at a fast clip. If he didn’t hurry she’d be out of his sight in no time.
“Well, thank you again,” Owen said. “Perhaps I’ll be back.”
“Be careful,” she called after him.
When he caught up with Maria, he berated her for her rudeness. “She was trying to be nice. She wanted you to be able to stay. Which is a miracle after what you did.”
“She thinks you’re handsome. She wanted you to be able to stay, not me.”
“What nonsense. She’s got a baby.”
“But no husband.”
“How do you know all this, never talking to anyone and lolling about at the creek all the time you’ve been here?”
She glanced at him sideways. “I know.”
He grunted with frustration. “God, Maria. It’s no wonder they didn’t want you there. You can be awfully creepy.”
“Why do you keep calling me Maria when you know I’m not her? And the reason they didn’t want me there is because they didn’t understand me.”
She was the chattiest she’d been and as much as he hated her distant silences he wasn’t sure he liked this any better. “You should have let them understand you, then,” he exploded. “We could still be there and I could figure out how to help you. Help Maria. And I don’t know what to call you because you haven’t told me. You haven’t told me anything.”
She stared at him for a long time as they hurried away from the Povest village. He was getting winded but didn’t want to admit he couldn’t keep up with a dead girl. God, no. Why did he think of that? Overcome with dizziness, he stopped and put his hands on his knees, surprised she stopped to wait for him.
“I can tell you more now we’re away from them. It was terribly hard work keeping my secret. They’re an awfully nosy lot. And they wouldn’t have helped me, they would have got rid of me. And she’s not ready yet.”
She waved her hand around her middle. He hoped she was indicating Maria somehow still being in there. Her soul, her mind, her memories. He prayed everything about her would be all right.
“She’s still there, then?” he asked, standing upright. She only stared at him. “Fine. At least tell me what to call you.”
She stared even longer at him, finally looking down at the ground. “I— I don’t remember,” she said in a small voice. “It was pretty, though. Prettier than Maria or Lola. At least I think it was. I can almost picture it.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. Just call me whatever you like, I suppose. I’ll know if you’re addressing me.”
He would have groused about that but they were back to their rapid pace and he didn’t want to spare the energy. “We need to get back to London,” he told her. “Your parents are probably scouring all of England for you.”
“I told you they’re not. They know I’m all right.” She paused in her steps, making him stumble to keep from swinging his meager luggage into her. “Oh, you mean Maria’s parents. Yes, I suppose they’re quite wild. Well, nothing for it.”
“Nothing for it? You’ve got to go back and keep pretending to be her until I can figure this out. Since my relatives won’t help we should probably find Ariana. She’s our next best bet and she supposedly has a load of magical new friends.” He stuck his tongue out. “I suppose I’ll have to meet her bloody soulmate.”
“Not her soulmate,” she said, hurrying along again.
“Hold up, have you met him?” he asked incredulously. “Did she take you— I mean Maria— to the future? Or the past? I forget when she met the bloke.”
“No.”
“Oh come on now,” he said, grabbing her arm and just as quickly dropping it.
The odd shield that didn’t let him get too near her seemed to be gone, but something still didn’t seem quite right. Her arm didn’t feel like an arm and he didn’t want to think too much about it for fear of going mad and running away from her. He needed to stay near if he was going to get the real Maria back.
“Am I not walking fast enough?” she asked with mock innocence. He could swear she was teasing him somehow.
“You’re walking plenty fast,” he puffed. “But how do you know anything about Ariana’s … that man she met.”
“I know he’s not her soulmate,” she said maddeningly. “That’s all.” She wrinkled her brow and turned to him, the sparks in her eyes dulled to a simmering blaze. “You’ll need to find her, that’s true enough. But first I want to go home.”
“Oh, thank God,” he said. “Wonderful. As soon as we get back to London, I’ll find Ariana and then everything will be good again.”
She smiled and it wasn’t wolfish at all this time, it was gentle and sweet. It hurt his heart because it looked like the real Maria. “Yes, it will. But we’re not going to London.”
“You said you wanted to go home,” he shouted. Trying to understand her was like being in a runaway cart going down a craggy hill.
“Not Maria’s home,” she explained. “My home. You made me want to remember my name and it’s written somewhere there.”
Owen pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes to keep his brains from spilling out. She was worse than Ariana’s little brothers. He let out a laugh that was close to a sob.
“Where is your home, then?” he asked with all the patience he could muster.
She smiled even more beatifically. “Scotland.”
He laughed harder at that. Back to the beginning, where he was now convinced he never should have left. “Very well. Back to bonny Scotland.”
Her smile faded and he studied her, gazing
