Chapter Seven

His hair was longer than I remembered, falling over his forehead in a wave of chestnut brown, and uncharacteristic stubble dusted his cheeks—but it was definitely Nick. It was his square-cut jaw, his wide, expressive mouth, and eyes the color of golden caramel. Those eyes stared at me from across the room, widened in confusion. I stared back, drinking in every detail of his face.

This is it. Any second now I’m going to wake up and find it’s another dream. He’s not real.

“Nick?” I said in disbelief.

He stepped around the counter and began striding across the café towards me. I put my hands flat on the table and pushed myself up with a strength I didn’t know I had. When there were still several feet between us, he stopped. He pursed his mouth for a second, then said, “No, my name is Daniel.”

My chest tightened. If I hadn’t been able to breathe before, I really couldn’t now. I stumbled against the chair.

“Take it easy,” he said, closing the gap between us. He placed his hands on my shoulders, steadying me. At his touch, a million goosebumps rose on my skin. I looked up at him, and his eyes locked onto mine.

I itched to run my fingers through his hair, to touch his face. I needed to make sure he was real and not just a figment of my imagination. But I hesitated, afraid that if I did, he would vanish into thin air.

“Are you real?” I asked.

His mouth curved slightly, giving me just a taste of that crooked smile I knew so well…and launching my heart into overdrive. “I’d like to think so.”

“You seem real,” I said. “Please don’t disappear.”

He raised his eyebrows, his smile fading. “Ah, okay. Hey, why don’t you sit down?”

I shook my head. “No, I need to look at you.” I raised my hand and traced his jawline with a trembling finger. When he didn’t evaporate, I smoothed his hair back from his forehead. I swallowed the lump in my throat and whispered, “It is you.”

Then, unable to hold back any longer, I threw my arms around him and buried my face in his chest. He was warm and solid, his breath tickling my ear. Just the closeness of him sent little currents of electricity through me. He was flesh and bone, smelling like soap and pine. The ache in my ribs faded into the background as I stood clasping him.

My heart thudded so loudly in my chest that I was sure he could hear it. For the first time since I’d lost my locket, I felt the dark emotions start to lift.

Nick is alive.

He patted my back and gently peeled my arms from around his neck as he let out an awkward laugh. “I’m not who you think I am. You’ve mistaken me for someone else.”

“No, I haven’t,” I said firmly. “You’re not Daniel. You just think you are. Your name is Nick. Nick Allen.”

He rubbed his cheek. “Never heard that name in my life.”

“I’m Julia,” I persisted, “your girlfriend.”

He searched my face. I dug my fingernails into my palms as I waited for some sign of recognition. But his gaze remained blank, and my heart sank all the way down to my toes.

“Sorry,” he said. “You have the wrong guy. I honestly don’t think we’ve ever met.”

“You were in a fire.” My voice shook, and I struggled to keep it steady. “I–I thought you were dead.”

“Look,” he said. “John told me you took a knock to the ribs. You’ve obviously been through a lot and you’re not thinking straight. Just—”

“No!” With frustration bubbling up inside me, I yanked the photograph from my pocket. “I am thinking straight. I know exactly who you are, and you do, too. You just have to concentrate. Look at this picture.”

A wary expression crossed his face, but he took the picture from me. He studied it for a few seconds. Then he turned his attention back to me, his eyes round with shock. “What the—?”

“That’s you, Nick. You and me and my mother. That was the night of our junior high graduation.” I grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “Don’t you see? You were sent here by mistake. You don’t belong here.”

He glanced from me to the picture and back again. “It’s not possible. I don’t remember this.”

“Just give it a minute. It’ll come back to you.” I sucked in a breath, hoping against hope that it would come back to him. Because if it didn’t… Well, I didn’t want to think about that right now.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend, Daniel?” a voice asked from behind us.

Nick pulled his hand from mine and quickly stepped back from me. His eyes shifted guiltily away and color flooded his pale cheeks. Annoyed at being interrupted, I turned to see a young woman standing in the doorway next to John. She had an hourglass figure and skin the color of ivory. Her apple-red hair fell around her shoulders in sleek, tidy waves. She had a sharp, angular face and high cheekbones that looked like they could have been sculpted from porcelain. She lifted her glossy red lips in a bright, insincere smile. The suspicion in her eyes was unmistakable.

“Well, Daniel?” she demanded, addressing Nick, even as she gaped at me. “Who is this?”

“Julia,” I supplied before he could answer. “I’m his girlfriend.”

She let out a haughty laugh. “I don’t think so. He would never be with anyone so”—she wrinkled her nose—“plain.”

“Stacey!” John exclaimed.

“What?” she shrugged, the picture of innocence. “You know you were thinking it, too.”

I took several deep breaths. Don’t let her get to you. “Listen, ah…Stacey, is it?” I plastered a smile on my face that I’m sure looked every bit as fake as hers. “I need to talk to N—Daniel in private. So why don’t you—?”

“No,” she interrupted. “Anything you have to say to him, you can say in front of me. Right, Daniel?”

Nick—who’d been watching the exchange with obvious discomfort—cleared his throat. He glanced down at the picture again. “Just give us a few minutes, Stacey.”

“Excuse me?” Stacey said loudly. “What’s going on here? You’re not seriously telling me you know this girl?”

“I’m not sure.” Nick raked his fingers through his hair. “Just go. Please.”

Thank God. His memory might not have returned yet, but the picture had triggered something in him. At least he was willing to talk to me.

The door to the café opened and in stepped a stout woman with hair the same color as Stacey’s. She was plump where Stacey was slender, her complexion rosy instead of bone white. When her eyes settled on me, she gave me a warm smile. “Well, hello, dear. So nice to see a new face in the village. We don’t get many visitors. And who might you be?”

“This is Julia,” Nick piped up, giving me an uneasy smile.

“She just barged in here where she doesn’t belong,” Stacey said, flashing daggers my way. “You have to do something, Mom.”

The woman frowned. “Don’t cause trouble, Stacey. You know anyone is welcome in my café.”

“Daniel wants to talk to Julia alone, but Stacey is being…difficult.” This from John, who I was really starting to like.

“Stacey,” the woman said in a warning voice, “go in the kitchen with John.”

“But, Mom—”

“Go. Now.”

Stacey sent me one last withering look before following John into the other room.

Stacey’s mother approached me, peeling off her gloves. “I’m pleased to meet you, Julia. I’m Doris Clifton.” She extended a hand for me to shake, then frowned as her warm fingers clasped my cold ones. “My dear, you feel like an icicle. And you don’t look well. You need to sit down. Here.”

As she held out the chair for me, I sat down cautiously, bracing myself for another jolt to my ribs.

Doris peered at me in concern. “Are you sick?”

“No,” I said. “I hurt my ribs.”

She clucked her tongue. “Then you shouldn’t be out and about. Why aren’t you resting?”

“Because it’s really important that I talk to Nic…ah, Daniel.”

“Nonsense. You’re pale and obviously weak.”

And I desperately wanted to lay my head on the table and close my eyes, but I fought the urge. There’d be plenty of time for rest later, when Nick was himself again and we were home. Before I could voice another protest, Nick spoke up.

“Doris is right. You should be taking it easy. But…you’re right, too.” His gaze rested on my face. The familiar warmth of his eyes tugged at my heartstrings. “I’ll take you to my cottage. We can talk there, and you can rest at the same time.”

“All right,” I agreed. I knew I’d have to get back to Luke soon, and we had to find Tom…but at that moment, all I cared about was being with Nick.

“Well,” Doris said, pleased, “that sounds like a sensible plan. Let me wrap up some food for you to take with you.”

“It’s not far,” Nick said when Doris had disappeared into the kitchen. “And there won’t be any interruptions there.” His eyes gravitated to the picture again. There were questions written all over his face.

“It might help if you keep that photo with you,” I said.

He frowned at me a little but tucked the picture into the pocket of his shirt.

Doris bustled out of the kitchen with a large brown paper bag. Then Nick was next to me, helping me up and out of the café. I smiled sleepily, relishing the feel of his arm around my waist. As he bundled me into some kind of sleigh, tucking a bright red blanket around me, I murmured, “I can’t believe you’re here.”

He didn’t reply, just jumped up onto the front seat and lightly snapped the reins. The horse, a dapple grey, started to move. The runners of the sleigh made a swishing sound as they slid through the snow. Clusters of cottages passed by on either side of me, interspersed with forested slopes. Trees drifted past, their velvety green branches glittering with frost, their trunks the color of rich cocoa. The icy peaks of the mountains shimmered in the distance.

I closed my eyes, my stomach churning.

It was just too surreal. I couldn’t really be in my mural, could I? When I opened my eyes again, the glistening landscape would be gone. I’d find that this was all a dream.

“Are you all right back there?”

I opened my eyes. If it was a dream, then why did Nick seem so real? He peered over his shoulder at me, his eyebrows raised.

I swallowed, my throat as dry as cotton balls. My ribs were killing me, but he didn’t need to know that. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Hold on a little bit longer. We’re almost there.”

“Okay. Good.” I licked my lips. “Nick—”

“Daniel,” he corrected.

“You really don’t remember how you got here?”

He frowned. “I’ve always been here.”

“That picture in your pocket tells a different story, though, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t understand it. It doesn’t make sense.” He faced forward, his shoulders set in a rigid line. “And I want you to explain it to me after the doctor checks you out.”

“Doctor?” I gaped at him.

“You say you’re fine, but you’re obviously not. Don’t worry. He happens to live close by. I’m going to get him once I get you settled.”

“But I don’t need—”

“Here it is,” he interrupted. “Told you it wasn’t far.”

We entered a clearing, and a small cabin came into view. The building had logs the color of maple syrup and a gable roof layered with snow. A stone chimney poked up on one side. Piles of chopped wood were stacked at various points along a wraparound porch. On the front of the cabin, two curtained windows flanked a solid oak door.

Nick stopped the sleigh, hopped down and tied the reins to a post. Then he turned and, putting an arm around me, helped me down. I grunted from the pressure on my ribs and staggered as my feet hit the ground. I careened into him. He caught me neatly in his arms, steadying me. We were face-to-face, so close our mouths almost touched. My breath caught in my throat.

The warm brown pools of his eyes gazed into mine. They definitely looked too real to be part of a dream. How was it possible that for two months he’d been lost to me forever, and now he was with me—solid, warm and alive? My hand moved of its own volition and I brushed his cheek. I was overcome with the need to have his lips on mine. Those two months without feeling his kiss had felt like two lifetimes.

But just before my lips brushed his, he pulled away, quickly averting his head. An embarrassed flush crept up my neck and spread across my face. For a second there, I’d been lost in his eyes, and the way the soft light picked out the golden flecks in his irises. But I couldn’t forget that he didn’t know me. As far as he was concerned, I was a complete stranger. The realization struck me in the stomach like a cold fist.

He cleared his throat. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.”

“No, I shouldn’t have touched you like that. It’s just…automatic for me, I guess.”

“Probably best if you don’t do it again.” His voice was gentle, but his words cut like a knife. “All this is a lot to take in.” He studiously avoided looking at me now, his gaze focused downward as he brushed snow from his pants.

“Right. Yeah. I get it.” It doesn’t matter, I told myself. I’ll fix this. He’ll know me soon enough. But the cold spread upwards from my belly, clamping around my heart like an icy band of steel. I swayed a little, feeling woozy again, and he snapped to attention.

“You’re shivering. Come on.”

Nick led me into the cottage. It was warm and cosy inside, with a large living area that led into a small kitchen. He strode to a sofa set against one wall, tossed aside the cushions and pulled out a bed, insisting that I lie down while he went to get the doctor.

When the cabin door shut behind him, I propped myself up on my elbows. My gaze darted around the room. A square end table stood on either side of the sofa bed, each one holding a kerosene lamp that cast a glow on the rough-hewn log walls. An overstuffed taupe armchair sat to the left of a flagstone fireplace, while a hickory rocker with a twill plaid cushion took up home on the right. An oval-shaped area rug lay in the centre of the gleaming hardwood floor.

From my spot on the sofa, I had a view of the mountains from the front window. They rose in the distance like a mirage, floating against the cerulean sky in undulating patterns of white and green. I stared for a long moment, transfixed. Those weren’t just any mountains. They were my mountains. My stomach rolled at the thought.

The door opened, causing me to tear my gaze from the window. Nick entered the cabin, accompanied by a man with coppery hair and rosy cheeks. He smiled when he saw me. His eyes were the color of golden-brown sand.

He didn’t look familiar, so I figured he must’ve been one of a group of villagers I’d painted. He blended in with the rest in my mind. I had no idea how he’d become the village’s resident doctor, but several of the people here seemed to take on roles and personalities that I’d never imagined.

“Hello there,” he said in a deep, friendly voice.

Nick quickly made the introductions. “Julia, this is Dr. Evans. Dr. Evans, Julia. She’s—”

“Just visiting,” I interjected.

“Visiting? Well now, I can’t remember the last time we had someone new in the village, if ever!” He chuckled. “Can you, Nick?”

Nick frowned. “No, I can’t.”

I wanted to tear out my hair in frustration. How could he say that? He was new. And what was the deal with this doctor and the other residents not remembering when Nick had first appeared in the village? Were they all under the same spell as he was, believing he’d always been one of them?

“No matter,” the doctor continued. “Nick tells me your ribs are sore.”

“Yeah, I fell.”

“Let me take a look.”

He examined me, pressed gently on my ribs—it was all I could do not to gasp—and asked me a few questions. Then he nodded. “Uh-huh. Just as I suspected. Your ribs aren’t broken, just bruised.” He patted the black bag he’d laid on the table. “I brought a bottle of apple cider vinegar with me. It does wonders for bruises. I’ll make you up a compress for you to put on those ribs now, and Nick can change it for you in a couple of hours. How does that sound?”

I let out a strained laugh. “Well, not as good as a couple of aspirin.”

Dr. Evans and Nick exchanged a confused look. Okay then. Guess that didn’t exist here. Note to self: add a bottle of pain reliever to next painting.

“Never mind,” I said. “That sounds fine.”

After immersing a large piece of cloth in the vinegar, the doctor instructed me to hold it against my ribs. “There,” he said. “That should help with the pain. I’m also going to leave Epsom salts and lavender oil for you to soak in later.” He turned to Nick. “You need anything else, young man, you just let me know.”

“I will.”

Dr. Evans treated me to another smile. “You take care now, Julia. And welcome.”

“Thanks,” I said.

When the doctor was gone, Nick sent me a curious glance before going to the kitchen to flick a dial on the stove. Then he came to stand awkwardly by the bed. “How did you fall?”

“It’s not important. Listen…”

I broke off because, at the same time, he said, “I’m sure…”

“You first,” I said. Suddenly I felt nervous, which was crazy since I’d known Nick most of my life and had always told him everything. But, I reminded myself, this wasn’t exactly Nick.

“I’m sure you’ll feel a lot better in a day or two. The doctor really knows what he’s doing.”

I nodded. Now that I had the floor, I found myself unable to speak. Where do I start?

He turned and busied himself at the fireplace, throwing in logs and lighting them with a match. Soon he had a small fire going. He jabbed at the blaze with a poker. The yellow-white flames danced in response, the light playing over his profile.

Turning from the hearth, he pulled the photo from his pocket and held it up. “The guy in this picture looks exactly like me. I want to know why that is.”

“Because it is you, Nick.”

“My name is Daniel!” he said sharply. “And this guy isn’t me. He can’t be. I was never at this house, and I’ve never seen this woman—or you—in my life.”

I wasn’t sure what pained me more—the certainty in his voice or the anger that flared in his eyes.

“So, tell me the truth,” he continued, his voice rising several octaves. “What’s going on here? I really can’t—”

The kettle whistled on the stove, the shrill sound cutting him off mid-sentence. Rubbing his neck, he slipped into the kitchen. I leaned back against the pillows and closed my eyes. It was Nick rustling around in the room next to me, but at the same time, it wasn’t. With my breath hitching, I willed myself to stay calm, to bury the frustration that rose inside me.

“Here you go.” I opened my eyes. He was moving towards the bed with a mug in his hands. “Drink some tea. It’ll warm you up.”

Tea again. Of course.

His voice was warm and gentle, and as I reached out to take the mug from him, I was relieved to see that the anger had faded from his eyes. “Thanks.”

He sat on the edge of the bed as I took a drink. “I’m sorry about before…for yelling at you like that.”

“It’s okay,” I said, staring down at the mug cradled in my hands. “I know it must be confusing.”

“It is.” He ran both hands through his hair. “You think I’m this Nick guy. And in the café you said I was sent here. Sent here from where, exactly?”

“From St. Peter’s. It’s a small city on the east coast of Canada.”

“But I’ve never been there. I’ve never been anywhere but here.”

“I know it seems that way, but…” I paused, racking my brain for a way to describe what had happened to him. “It’s this place. It’s playing tricks on your mind, making you forget everything about your life.”

“This is my life. Here, in the village.”

“Nick,” I said, and held up a hand before he could correct me again. “The village is not part of the real world. I… Well, it’s a mural I painted. And it’s not going to be around for much longer.”

“Oh, really? Where is it going?”

“It’s being painted over. And we need to get out of here before that happens.”

“A mural.” He let out a short, humorless laugh. “I think something is playing tricks with your mind. And just how do you think I was sent here? Someone waved a magic wand?”

I bit my lip. “My mother opened a portal. You were pulled in.”

“A portal,” he repeated in a flat voice.

“Right. I come from a family of people who can open these portals. They’re like doors into pictures and paintings. Only I didn’t know I could open them until recently.”

He stared at me for several beats, then in one abrupt movement, got to his feet. He picked up the poker again and prodded the fire logs. I waited for him to say something–anything–but he remained silent as he stood with his back to me, his hands steady on the poker.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Nick,” I said, a pleading note in my voice, “don’t you remember me?”

He turned around slowly, the poker still clutched in his hand. “All this talk about portals and me being from this other world… It’s just crazy, okay? You must’ve hit your head or something when you fell. You can stay here tonight and get some rest. But I think it’s best for both of us if you leave in the morning.”

I took a shallow breath. “But what about the picture?”

“I don’t know about that. Must be somebody who looks like me.”

“Nick—”

“I told you,” he said. His eyes, steady on mine, were devoid of emotion. And that cut more deeply than his anger ever could. “My name is Daniel.”

I set the mug on the table beside the bed and tucked my wayward hair behind my ears. “Listen to me, okay? I know I can jog your memory if you just give me a chance to explain. First of all, you were in a fire.”

“What? No, I wasn’t.”

“Please, just hear me out. It was the night of the awards ceremony. You’d won a humanitarian award. The three of us were going together—me, you, and Mom. But we never got there because the fire broke out.” My throat was beginning to ache, and I swallowed painfully. “You lost consciousness and when Mom opened a door to the mural, you got sucked through it. And I came here to take you back. But I can’t do it if you don’t remember who you are. Please, try to remember.”

“How can I remember something that didn’t happen?” He sighed. “Maybe you have a concussion or you’re confusing dreams with reality. Or—”

“No!” The word burst out of me with such vehemence that he took a step back, startled. “It’s all true.” The frustration I’d been pushing down suddenly leaped back up, mingling with a fresh onslaught of grief as I relived that night in my mind. “I saw the fire with my own eyes. I thought you were trapped inside. There was a memorial service and everything. Your parents just started a scholarship fund in your name. I’ve known you since we were kids, Nick. And suddenly, you were just…gone.”

He just looked at me like I had two heads.

“Everyone assumed you burned in that fire,” I said, my voice wobbling. “But you didn’t. And I am so friggin’ grateful for that. But still, because of Mom, you ended up here, and I can’t imagine what that’s been like for you. God, I wish I could go back to that day. Maybe if I’d been there, none of this would’ve happened. I wouldn’t have lost you. We wouldn’t have been separated. Mom would still—” I ran out of breath as my ribs kicked up an assault. Hot tears stung my eyes.

“Hey,” he said, coming back to the side of the bed, “take it easy. You’re getting yourself all worked up again. It’s obvious that being around me reminds of you of this guy who looks like me. Just lie back and get some rest. And like I said, in the morning—”

“I’m not leaving in the morning,” I said. “I won’t lose you again.”

He rubbed his temples, as if I were giving him a headache. He didn’t remember…and he didn’t believe me.

Before I could stop them, tears spilled from my eyes and ran down my flushed cheeks. Frustration and despair washed over me like a river current, fast and strong. With the jumble of emotions overpowering me, I wished I didn’t have to go through this. I wished I could take him home now.

The dizziness struck me head on. My eyes sealed shut.

Then came a clanging sound so loud it made my ears ring, and I was able to open my eyes.

Nick stared at me, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief. The poker lay at his feet, where he’d dropped it on the hardwood floor. “How did you—?” His head swiveled to the door of the cottage, then whipped back to me again. “There was something glowing over there. What was that?”

I struggled for breath for several seconds. That was close. Way too close. I had to get myself under control. “I started to open a door. A door back home.”

Now he shook his head as if to clear it. “How did you do that? Is it an illusion?”

“I told you, I can open doors in and out of paintings. When I’m feeling really intense emotions, it just happens. That’s how I got to the village, through a portal. It’s how you got here.”

All the blood drained out of his face. He stumbled into the kitchen, took a glass down from a cupboard and filled it up at the sink. I waited while he gulped it down, moving in front of the fire to warm my hands.

When he came to stand next to me a minute later, his breathing sounded as shallow as my own, but a little color had returned to his cheeks. I looked up into his eyes. They were full of fear and confusion. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse. “I don’t want to believe it. I don’t want to believe what you just did. But I saw it. I saw something.”

“I’ll tell you everything, okay? I’ll tell you about us, about my mom, about your life in St. Peter’s. But I need you to listen.”

He nodded, his face grim. “All right. I’ll listen.”

* * * *

The next morning, the sun rose over my mural, streaking the sky with shades of apricot and rose. An ethereal mist pooled over the mountains, suffusing the peaks with a violet glow. As the sun climbed higher, the mist dissipated and the snowy landscape shimmered under golden shafts of light. I stared out of the window, captivated by the surreal scene, a coffee Thermos in my hands.

I’d woken up just minutes earlier to find myself alone in the cottage. There was a note from Nick on the pillow next to me, indicating that he’d gone to feed Dusty, the horse, and that I should help myself to the coffee on the side table.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed. My ribs still throbbed with pain, but it was nowhere near as excruciating as the day before. I couldn’t believe the apple cider compresses had actually worked.

I pushed myself up and padded to the kitchen, where I leaned against the counter and took in the view from the back window. The sun swept over the fields and trees, making them glow. A small barn gleamed a rich red in the explosion of dawn. Nick and Dusty stood in front of the open doors. Flurries drifted around them in lazy circles. He brushed the horse’s lustrous coat with a gloved hand, his lips moving.

Velvety darkness had fallen by the time I’d finished telling Nick my story. I’d told him everything, starting with how I’d open a portal as a kid, how Luke’s father, intent on revenge, had confronted Mom. Nick listened, incredulous, as I explained how Luke had come looking for his father and the fire had broken out, and how Mom had created the door to the mural. Finally, I told him about tumbling into the painting with Luke.

When I finished, Nick raised his eyebrows at me. “That’s a crazy story.”

“I know how it sounds, but—”

“And you’re saying this guy, Tom, this alcoholic, is here, too? I don’t know anybody like that.”

“I don’t know for sure if he’s here,” I said, holding a compress against my ribs. “But he blames me for the way Luke turned out.”

“So your…ability. You really didn’t know about it?”

“No. Not until I lost my locket. It was charmed to take away my power. You know the locket,” I added. “You teased me for never taking it off.” He looked at me with a blank expression. I sighed. “You don’t remember that either, huh?”

He leaned forward on the armchair, his elbows propped on his thighs. “No, I don’t. And I don’t understand why you want me to carry the picture.”

I’d done my best to explain how a personal item acted as a memory trigger when someone was inside a painting, but he just seemed even more confused. Even after I’d spent the better part of an hour telling him about our relationship, he still didn’t show any signs of recognition. After an awkward silence, he had wished me goodnight and disappeared into the bedroom adjacent to the living area.

It’d taken every ounce of my will not to cry myself to sleep.

Now I watched him tend to the horse. Even from where I stood, I could see his solemn expression. My Nick was inside there somewhere, but I didn’t know how to get him out.

I shuffled to the table and sat. Should I go back to Susan’s, find out if Luke had fared any better than Nick when it came to regaining his memories? Or should I stay here? I dropped my head in my hands and sat there for I don’t know how long, only looking up when Nick stepped into the cabin.

His cheeks were flushed from the cold, his hair damp from the light snow. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his mouth stretched in a grim line across his face. He stomped his boots on the mat inside the door and hung his coat on a peg. When he moved toward the kitchen, his expression softened.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey.” His arms hung awkwardly at his sides. “Listen… I’m sorry you lost your mom.”

“Thanks.”

He sat across from me and lifted his clouded eyes to meet mine. “I didn’t get much sleep last night, thinking about everything you’ve told me. And I’ve looked at the picture”—he patted his pocket—“over and over. But I still can’t make sense of any of it.”

I hadn’t slept well either, knowing he was lying in the next room. So close and yet so far away.

“Do you still think I’m crazy?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I’ve seen what you can do. I just can’t remember being in this other place, this St. Peter’s. Or being with you.”

I bit my lip and stared down at my hands, twisted together on the table to keep them from shaking. “Will you take me to see Luke? I have to check on him. He’s still over there at Susan’s.”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

I raised my head and gave him a tight smile. “And who knows? Maybe something about him will jog your memory.” And if I have two guys with amnesia, I’m screwed.

“I’ll make breakfast first. You must be starving. You barely touched Doris’ sandwiches last night.”

As if on cue, my stomach gave a loud rumble, making me blush.

“And that answers my question.” His mouth turned up in his lopsided grin, and I caught the flash of his dimple just before he turned and went into the kitchen. Goosebumps rose on my arms. God, how I’d missed that dimple. I’d missed him.

And it was taking everything in my power not to throw my arms around him again.

He served breakfast at the little table—an omelette stuffed with cheese, peppers and onions, strips of crisp bacon, golden hash browns flavored with savory and fresh, tangy orange juice. I devoured every bite.

“How did you get so good in the kitchen?” I asked, scraping up the last bit of egg with my fork. “Back home you could barely boil a pot of water.”

He lifted a shoulder in a half shrug as he picked up our dishes. “I work at Doris’ café. She taught me everything I know.”

“Huh.” I peered at him curiously. It was so weird to think of him having this other life that I knew nothing about. “Do you like working there?”

“I love it. The people are great and Doris is really flexible.”

“And what about her daughter? She seemed pretty…demanding.”

“Stacey?” He’d turned to put the dishes in the sink, so I couldn’t see his expression as he rinsed off the plates. “She’s always been a bit protective of me.”

“Protective?” I scoffed. “She practically bit my head off.”

He swivelled around and gave me a rueful smile. “Yeah, sorry about that. She can be blunt.”

More like bitchy. In fact, she reminded me of Trisha. And wasn’t it just my luck that there was someone like her in this world, too.

“She does a lot for me, though,” Nick continued. “Both her and Doris have.”

“So is she a friend…or more than that?” I took a gulp of my juice, dreading the answer.

“She’s just a friend, although sometimes I think she wants more than that.”

The juice went down the wrong way, stinging my throat. Nick was at my side in a flash, lightly thumping on my back as I coughed. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” I said when I was able to stop sputtering.

He gave me one last pat on the back and stepped back. Anxiety settled in my gut like a rock. “And what about you? Do you want more from her?”

“No, I don’t think of her like that. She…well, she’s not the kind of person I could see myself in a relationship with.”

“Oh.” I couldn’t help but smile.

His gaze rested on my face for a long moment, and I wondered if he was thinking about what I’d told him about our relationship.

A tangle of hair fell in my eyes. I shifted uncomfortably, suddenly feeling clammy and gross in my clothes from the day before.

“Can I get washed up, maybe borrow some clean clothes?”

“How about a bath? The doctor left the Epsom salts and lavender oil for you to soak in.”

“Ah, yeah. Okay.”

He grabbed the bag of salts and a small bottle of oil from a cupboard, then led me to the bathroom. It was a small but airy room done in creamy whites and rich browns. A claw-foot bathtub sat under a window that overlooked the field.

Nick opened the cabinet below the sink and withdrew a large yellow bath towel. He handed it to me. When he ran the bathwater, he added a generous amount of the salt and lavender oil.

“I’ll give you a few minutes to…get ready,” he said. “Wrap yourself in the towel.”

“Um, what do you mean?”

“I’m going to help you in and out of the tub.”

I shook my head. “Uh-uh. No way.”

“Your ribs might feel better today, but they’re still healing. You need to go slow. You don’t want to slip and fall, do you?”

A warm flush crept up my neck. “I think I can manage on my own.”

“Don’t worry, Julia,” he said with a sigh. “I’m not planning on being there for the main event. But you’ve got to let me help you.”

I pressed my fingers to my blazing cheeks. As much as I wanted to be physically close to Nick, the thought of him seeing me sans clothes made me squirm uncomfortably. Now that he was convinced he was this Daniel person, it was almost like he was a stranger. Showing that much skin…? Talk about awkward.

He looked at me with a mix of concern and puzzlement. “What’s wrong? I’m serious. I’ll be in and out. I just don’t want you to get hurt again.”

“Fine. But eyes up here,” I said, pointing at my face.

“I swear, I’ll be the perfect gentleman.”

As the bathroom door closed behind him, I stared at the tub, quickly filling up with water, then at the towel in my hand. I sighed. It was now or never. I set the towel down next to the sink and slowly pulled off my clothes. A few minutes later, Nick rapped on the door.

“You ready?”

“Just a second!” I called. Gritting my teeth, I yanked off my socks, then reached for the towel. With trembling hands, I threw it around my shoulders and held it so that the material was taut over my chest and fell below my knees. “Okay, ready now.”

He came in, and with barely a glance in my direction, leaned over the tub to turn off the water. I moved so that I was directly behind him. He turned around, startled, bumping my shoulder with his elbow. “Oh, there you are. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I said with a nervous laugh. “I won’t break that easily.”

He smiled shyly, his eyes locked on mine, and there was that electric tension again between us, making my heart gallop.

“So,” he said, “all set?”

I cleared my throat. “Sure.” I let the towel fall away. True to his word, Nick kept his eyes on my face and his hands on my arms as I stepped into the tub. As soon as I slid down in the water, he turned away. “Just yell if you need anything. I’ll be back to get you out in fifteen minutes.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Relief poured over me as I heard the door close softly behind him. It was just too much to be close to him like that when he didn’t know me.

The warm water felt heavenly and eased the ache in my ribs. I lathered soap on my skin and washed the grit out of my hair. By the time Nick knocked on the door, I was feeling human again.

“I’m ready. Come in.”

He entered the room and set some clothes next to the sink. “Let’s get you out of there.” He extended his arms and I let him help me over the lip of the tub and onto the soft bathmat. I shivered as air hit my skin. Nick snatched the towel and wrapped it around my shoulders. Then he paused, his eyes meeting mine.

“Feel better?”

I nodded. “Much.”

“Good.” He took a step back, but his gaze didn’t waver from my face.

My pulse jumped. Had he remembered something? Had he remembered me? “What is it?”

He gave a half laugh. “Well, it’s just...you have really pretty eyes. You’d think if I knew you, I would’ve remembered them.”

“Oh.” I dug my nails into the soft material of the towel and sucked in a breath. “I know this all sounds crazy. I can see why it’s hard to believe. You just need time.”

He sighed. “Maybe you do have this magical ability, but the guy you’re looking for, it’s not me.”

My heart sank like an anchor falling to the bottom of the ocean. The tears were threatening to fall again, pricking my eyes. I had to get them under control, and I didn’t think I could do it with his eyes locked on me in that penetrating gaze.

“Julia?”

“I can’t talk about this right now. Will you please just let me get dressed?”

“All right,” he said. “Take your time.”

This time when the door shut, I sat on the edge of the tub, barely succeeding in pushing back the wave of emotions before it could wash over me.

* * * *

I emerged from the bathroom and shuffled down the short hallway. Nick glanced up when I entered the living room. Then he went back to folding the sheets and blankets on the sofa bed.

I sat on the edge of the armchair and watched him, unsure of what to say. My towel-dried hair hung in damp waves around my face. I felt refreshed wearing the clean cotton shirt and jeans Nick had laid out, even though they were a bit baggy on me.

The silence stretched out between us, broken only by the creak of the eaves as the wind whistled through them.

I swallowed thickly. “I thought you were dead, you and Mom. I lost my home, my family. And I kinda felt dead too, on the inside. It was like these horrible dark feelings were in there somewhere, but they wouldn’t come out. I mean, I’ve always been pretty good at not getting overwhelmed by feelings, you know that.”

Nick didn’t say a word, just raised an eyebrow at me. I heaved a sigh. Of course he didn’t know.

“Anyway,” I continued, “this time I thought I’d be able to cry easily, like my Aunt Karen. But nothing, not even one little tear. I don’t know, I guess I figured it was just shock that kept me from losing it.” I let out a harsh laugh. “Of course, everyone thought I was this callous bitch because I didn’t show any emotion after the fire. I was okay with it, though. It’s what got me through each day, not being able to really feel.”

I paused. Again, no comment from Nick, but I could tell from the way he kept glancing over that he was listening. And, for now, that would have to be enough. “But when I lost my locket, suddenly I felt like having a meltdown almost every second. I thought it was because that locket was all I had left of Mom and not having it anymore… Well, I guessed everything just hit me all at once.”

Nick dropped the folded quilt on the bed and turned to look at me full on. “So then you did cry?”

“Yeah,” I said, twisting my hands together in my lap, “because I wasn’t protected by the locket anymore. Now, seeing you again after all this time, after thinking you were dead… Well, it’s bringing up a lot of strong feelings. I have to get control of them. If I don’t, I’ll open a door before we’re ready to go back.”

He crossed the room and sat next to me. “Look…I’m sorry you’re dealing with this. And I’ll do whatever I can to help you stay calm while you’re here. But I’m not going through any magical doors. This is my home.”

I took a deep breath but didn’t say anything.

“I’ll take you back to Luke. I’m sure you guys can figure this all out.”

“Right,” I said, biting my lip, “Luke.” Even though I knew I should check on him, I wanted to stay there with Nick.

“Don’t get upset,” he said gently. “But I’m not the one you’re looking for.”

“You are the one, Nick.” I put my hand over his, pressed it down firmly so he couldn’t slide from my grasp.

He drew a sharp intake of breath. His eyes changed, became glassy.

“Nick?”

He shook himself and his eyes cleared. “Sorry.”

“Did you remember something?”

“No, I— No.” Now he did slip his hand out from under mine. “I’ll take you back to Susan’s now. Just let me get Dusty ready.”

He pulled his coat on and went outside.

Sitting in the quiet of the cabin, I wondered what would make Nick’s eyes glaze over like that. What had he been thinking?

The cabin door swung open again. Cool morning air drifted inside, making me shiver. “That was fast. What did—” The words died on my lips.

It wasn’t Nick. It was Luke.