“Of course not.” She pressed the orchid to my lapel and wove a three inch straight pin through it, fastening it to my jacket. Her eyes gazed at me suspiciously and with no little concern. “But you look like you just saw a ghost.”
“I remembered that night. Things I hadn’t remembered before.”
“That night? Jon, really. Which night?”
“The night Rachel died.”
She touched my cheek, and I brought my arm around her waist. “Tell me,” she said.
I put my lips close to her ear. “She’s alive.”
“How is that possible?”
“I remember. I woke up in the grass, and she was next to me. Her eyes were open. She blinked.”
Nothing about Jessica’s expression changed for the first second, and I watched her closely. I needed her to tell me something. Maybe comfort me, or tell me I was wrong. Maybe I’d missed a shred of evidence that proved what we’d always known. That Rachel was dead and buried and the family tracks covered with six feet of dirt.
She put her hand on my lapel. “You know, this isn’t a reliable memory, right?”
“Yes. But I also know it’s right. Sure as we’re standing here.”
“Well then, there’s only one way to know for sure.” She squeezed my hand and put her lips to my ear. “We’ll have to find her.”
A streamer floated down from a tree and landed between us, while the sound of the quartet drew my attention back to my engagement party and waiting guests.
END