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“I’m right here with you. But I’m going to get Owen. You don’t have to go through alone.”

“I have to go.”

When she walked into the hall, Trey started to go down ahead, get Owen. But both Owen and Cleo stepped out of the bedroom.

“Somebody woke me up,” Owen told him. “It wasn’t Cleo.”

“I heard it, too. Like before. Someone saying ‘Sonya,’ a hand on my shoulder.”

“I’m awake, but… Do you feel it, too?”

“Not really. Something maybe.” Owen shook his head. “But not really.”

“I have to go. I have to.”

She continued to the end of the hall with that pull growing stronger and stronger. Then she stopped at the top of the stairs, pointed down.

“It’s there. Do you see it? It’s down there.”

“I see it.” His eyes on the mirror, Trey took her hand. “You can say no, Sonya. I’ll help you say no if that’s what you want.”

“No, I want… I need to.”

“I’m with her. You need to stay with Cleo. It’s not reflecting. Movement in it, and I can hear music.”

Trey kept Sonya’s hand. He saw them reflected in the glass as they walked toward the mirror. He heard nothing.

At the base of the stairs, he put Sonya’s hand in Owen’s, and all his trust with it. “Look out for her.”

“I got it.”

Cleo grabbed Owen’s face, kissed him. “Look out for you, too.”

“That’s the plan. Ready?”

“It doesn’t matter. I have to.”

Together, they stepped through.

And stood in the grand foyer with the portrait of Astrid Grandville Poole. The music, the voices, came from outside the open windows.

“‘Louie Louie.’” Owen identified the song, the heavy bass coming through. “So sixties or beyond.”

“I don’t understand—”

Even as Sonya spoke, the front door flew open. The woman rushed in, long auburn hair in tumbling waves to her shoulders. She wore a crown of rosebuds over it, with ribbons trailing behind.

She hiked up the frothy skirts of her white dress as she hurried toward the stairs. In high, sparkling heels, Johanna Poole started up.

“Her feet are killing her,” Sonya murmured. “I can hear her thoughts, like with Arthur Poole.”

Gripping Owen’s hand, she followed the seventh bride.

1995

I’m married. I’m a married woman, a woman married to the best man I’ve ever known. The only man I’ve ever truly loved.

From today, we’re Collin and Johanna Poole.