The only color in the room was the turquoise sky behind the beveled glass panes, and the vibrant Double Wedding Ring quilt folded at the end of the bed.
“ . . . and kept separate rooms. So much for things being okay, huh?” Her attempt at a laugh forced me to pull myself together.
“Th-the quilt’s gorgeous. Heirloom?” I couldn’t quite manage to look at her, but I could feel her confusion.
“His mother made it years ago . . . ? I think she was sad she wasn’t going to see him get married.” She continued as I turned away, “She had breast cancer. He doesn’t like to talk about it.”
We made our way downstairs in the silence of unvoiced questions, and she let me walk out alone.
Adam was out on the dock with Traveler and Betty, facing the breeze rising in the east. He didn’t turn around as I left, but there was a note on the driver’s seat.
Tell Eileen I meant what I said.
Touch
I don’t know how I managed to drive home, but when I pulled up, I was crying so hard I could barely breathe. Sal was waiting for me on the steps and helped me from the truck without a word.
“E-Eileen?” I couldn’t see through my tears and stumbled, but he caught me by the elbow.
“She has headphones on. She did not hear you arrive.”
“Is sh-she—”
“She is listening to musical representations of the Fibonacci sequence. She is fine.”
He guided me down the path to the river and settled me on a rotted timber at the tideline. Scuttling noises told me that we’d disturbed the hermit crabs, but the sound of lapping water was peaceful. When my sobs quieted, I wiped my face as best I could, and looked for him. He was barely a step away, watching me as usual. Waiting for me to come to terms with the unimaginable. I pulled him down beside me, but couldn’t look at him.
We sat silently for several minutes, watching the sunlight turn to silver and diamonds on the brown water. He said nothing, but having his massive bulk next to me was somehow reassuring. Like an ancient mountain, he waited patiently for my human drama to parade past; and yet, in spite of the silly name he’d chosen, he wasn’t made of stone.
“You know why I’m upset.”
“Little else could make you despair so.”
I watched an osprey dive and snag a fish by the talons, then shake off the water and fly away with its prize. Beauty in tragedy.
“Why didn’t you tell me? I know you wanted to.”
“I did not want to.”
“But they did? Your team?”
“It was thought the knowledge would ensure your commitment, negating the need for overt coercion.”
Overt coercion. My eyes closed as I absorbed his meaning, but I forced them back open.
“How did this happen?”
“We do not know.”
“Don’t lie to me!”
“We do not know, Lilith.”
“But—”
“Without your cooperation, we can only extrapolate from the data we have, and the data from other realities is difficult to translate. For obvious reasons, as I am sure you can—”
“What are you talking about?! What did you do to us?!”
“Nothing.”
My eyes narrowed. “Don’t. Lie. To. Me.”
“There are stranger things in this universe than other lifeforms,” he pointed out. “You have the ability to experience simultaneous realities and—more uniquely—the ability to assimilate more than one reality. In fact, your connection to one is so strong that you have . . . ” he seemed to be searching for the right word, “ . . . traversed many times. So many times, that you have integrated both versions within your psyche.”
“Other realities.” I searched his expression for a lie, but the awfulness of the truth was plain to see.
“We did not make your Adam forget you.”
I slumped over my knees and bawled like a child. Loss. Want. Shame. His warm hand stroked my back once, then again, and again, continuing until the rhythm of it helped me find my voice.
“H-how?”
“Tell me what you remember of her conception.”
“Can we . . . ?” I glanced sideways at him and made a scribble motion on my leg.
“We already know he is her father, but we need to understand your experience before we can attempt to explain it.”
I shuddered and rocked forward over my knees again. This cannot be true.
You know it is, Lila.
I groaned and sat up. “Does he know? Does Cara?”
“He senses the connection,” Sal put a heavy arm around my shoulders, “just as Cara senses Adam’s connection to you—but she does not know about Eileen.”
“Please don’t let them tell her.”
“They will not. She is in a fragile state.” He leaned his head down to mine, “You are stronger.”
I choked on fresh tears. “I-I’m not!”
“Yes, you are.” He pulled me against his chest, his breath warming the back of my neck as he murmured, “You kept yourself sane. You brought your child to term alone. You raised her alone.”
“Did I know?”
“Before your memory was altered?” He laid his cheek against the top of my head. “We cannot be certain. You never spoke aloud about it, and Madeline told me nothing, if she knew.”
“I d-didn’t see her before she died.”
“You did.” He held me closer and spoke quickly, “When the hospital contacted you, you returned to Wilmington. You did not want her to die alone.”
I stayed still against his chest. “Then why don’t I remember?”
“You did not want to remember.”
“No, I . . . I left her alone. I let Jack talk me into . . . ” I sank lower against him with my guilt, and he stroked my hair.
“You were there, Lila. She was not alone.”
“I was? But . . . all I remember is . . . is the story you created.” His heart missed a beat, and I realized what I’d said.
Oh, no.
“You are finally certain.”
I lifted my head slowly. “I-I am.”What have I done?
His eyes were closed, but there was a slight smile on his lips. “I am glad.”
“You are?” What would they do to him?
“Of course. I told them that it was necessary for you to accept my role before you begin your work. I want to earn your trust.”
My work? He
