I know it’s time to tell Dean the truth and I’m dreading it. I don’t know how to make him believe me, short of pulling out the file I found. But then he’ll know I snuck into the Facility, and he might even accuse me of being a spy. I also can’t get Wes’s words out of my head. The minute I tell Dean the truth, I’ve changed the future forever. I want to believe it will be a good change, but I’m still afraid of the unknown possibilities. What if I erase myself and return to a life where no one knows me? I’m not ready to face that fear yet.
My grandfather remembers saying good-bye to Dean on the morning of June 5. It’s also the date of Project Hero. That gives me two days—including today—to work up the nerve to talk to Dean.
I wave back at Mary and make my way toward the buffet table, covered in an array of jellies, tiny sandwiches, and dark, thick cookies. I take a little bit of everything. I walk through the groups of people, clutching my plate. Mary and Mrs. Bentley are sitting on a checkered blanket, looking out over the crowd, while Dr. Bentley lounges on the grass nearby, smoking a pipe and contemplating a deviled egg. I sit down next to Mary, who tosses an apple in my direction. Mrs. Bentley hands me a cloth napkin from a basket by her feet.
“Are you ready for the dance later, girls?” Mrs. Bentley asks.
“Of course!” Mary exclaims. “We’re going back to the house to get ready. Suze is coming too. I’m wearing my red dress, and I’ve been mending the blue for Lydia.”
Mrs. Bentley smiles at me. “I’m sure it will be just lovely on you, Lydia.”
“Thanks.” I smile back.
“Oh, look, there’s Dean.” Mrs. Bentley stands up and smoothes the wrinkles from her wide, flowered skirt. “Dean!” she calls out. He turns toward the sound of his mother’s voice and starts walking in our direction. He’s wearing his uniform and holding hands with his wife, Elizabeth. Her hair is so blond that it glows almost white in the sun.
Dean’s face is tanned and healthy, his body lean and slightly lanky. He’s a young man, about to go on a mission that he thinks is going to save his country. But he has no idea what really awaits him.
“Hello,” Elizabeth says as they approach our blanket. She’s wearing a plain brown dress.
“Elizabeth, dear.” Mrs. Bentley smiles and the two women hug. Elizabeth won’t let go of Dean’s hand, and they end up forming an awkward triangle.
“How are you?” Mrs. Bentley asks.
Elizabeth shakes her head a little. “Dean has to report to the base again. He says they need him for a few days and he doesn’t know when he’ll be back home.”
Dean looks grim as he watches his wife. There’s a restrained quality about him, as though he wants to break down into tears or anger and he’s barely keeping himself together.
Dr. Bentley stands up too, and puts an arm around his son. “Let’s take a walk,” he says. Dean nods, though he glances back at his wife. He too seems reluctant to let go of her hand. Dr. and Mrs. Bentley gently pull them apart and lead them away, softly speaking to each half of the married couple.
“Dean is always leaving,” Mary says in a whisper. “He’s usually home in a day or two.”
“They’re just worried about him.” I jiggle my foot against the blanket, frustrated and confused. It’s a terrible burden knowing someone else’s fate.
“You’re right.” Mary sighs and gestures to where her mother is hugging Dean’s wife. “I guess I wouldn’t want to watch my husband go off every few days either. Especially when he can’t tell me why.”
I don’t know what to say.
“Oh, look!” Mary brightens. “Suze is coming. And Jinx!”
The two girls plop down on the blanket. They’re both wearing plain sundresses.
“Hi, girls.” Jinx smiles. She sees my expression and pauses. “What’s the matter?”
“Dean has to leave for a few days and everyone’s upset.” Mary’s voice is soft and concerned. I bite my lip.
“He’s always back in a few days,” Susie says gently.
Mary smiles slightly. “You’re right. I’m sure everything will be fine.”
“Yeah, but what if it isn’t this time,” I snap. The three girls look at me, then exchange glances.
“Sorry. I just need something to drink.” I wave limply at the refreshment table, where large glass pitchers of lemonade and ice water sweat in the afternoon sun. I stand.
“Are you okay?” Mary shades her eyes as she looks up at me.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Get me a lemonade,” Jinx demands.
“Sure.” I quickly walk away from them, turning toward the Manor. I walk around the large building until the picnic is out of sight.
There’s a small field past the hill and I step into the middle of it, running my fingers through the tall, pale grass. I break some off and twist the stalks in my hands. They smell sweet and fresh, like dry hay.
I’m turning it all over in my head—Dean, Mary, Wes—when I hear a noise. The grass rustling and swaying. I back up slowly, my eyes darting around the field. A head suddenly pops up not far from me, and I scream out loud.
“Lydia?”
It’s Peter. My seven-year-old grandfather.
“Peter? What are you doing out here?”
“Shh,” he whispers, his small body half-hidden in the reeds. “You’ll wake them up.”
“Wake who up?”
He beckons me closer. The grass parts around my heavy skirt. I’m wearing the green dress again, with a wide-brimmed straw hat that keeps the sun out of my eyes. I lean over to see what Peter’s pointing at. There is a bird’s nest
