Page 4 of It’s You

“What’s with you? Are you okay? You. Are. So. Weird,” Theodora hissed again, standing up with the rest of the bridesmaids, staring down at Darcy’s flushed face.

She looked up at Theodora and stood quickly, bracing her hands on the pew in front of her, holding the bright white wood with a claw-like grip.

“You may kiss the bride.”

The congregation broke into applause as the recessional music played cheerfully.

When Darcy looked back at the edge of the woods, he was gone.

“What do you mean, you think you saw Jack Beauloup? When you went inside?” Willow held her champagne glass at an awkward angle, leaning her head toward Darcy at their assigned table, and speaking in an urgent whisper.

“You’ve never seen anyone in there. You know what I think? You and weddings don’t mix.”

“Tell me about it. Honoria was kind enough to remind me of my unmarried state, and Theodora implied we’re a couple.”

“Your family’s the best .” Willow shook her head, and the little silver feathers hanging from her ears jingled. “Honoria Turner is a rhymes-with-stitch and Theodora Turner is a moron. No. You know what? That’s unfair to morons.”

Darcy was accustomed to the snickers and low-toned gossip surrounding her and Willow.

They had been roommates for ten years, sharing the old Victorian house left to Willow by her grandparents.

Two adult, unrelated women living as roommates for a decade simply wasn’t acceptable for the simple-minded, straitlaced, New England sensibilities of Carlisle.

“Wait. Are you trying to change the subject? Where did you see him?”

“Through the church window. Standing at the edge of the woods.”

“As far as we know, he hasn’t been in Carlisle for over twenty years. You saw him here ? In Proctor Woods?”

“No, Willow. In the Vienna Woods in Austria. Yes, Proctor Woods! What other woods are there?”

“Are you sure it was him?”

“No. He was tall and dark and had his back to me.”

“His back. You saw his back . So…you’re basically saying it could have been anyone.”

“I had a feeling . A strong feeling. Of recognition or something…”

“We’re basing this wild assumption on a feeling ?”

“And I had just gone inside . I had just heard?—”

“His voice,” Willow supplied. “You are really losing it.”

“Maybe.” Darcy took a sip of her champagne and rubbed her eyes. “Maybe you’re right. It’s probably just weddings. Always a bridesmaid.”

“So defeatist, Darce. It’s not like you have one foot in the grave. You’re still young. I mean, someday?—”

Darcy turned to her friend sharply, giving her a warning look, and Willow stopped talking. Willow knew full and well that someday was just about Darcy’s least favorite word.

Distracting herself, Darcy pulled at the fabric flower that was crushed against her neck, making her itch. “Isn’t there anything I can do with this awful dress? It’s scratching the heck out of my skin.”

She tugged at the stiff taffeta, pulling at the seam until she ripped the odious puffed flower off entirely, and with it, a bit of the already-scant décolletage. Willow gave Darcy’s chest a quick glance.

“Well, well. Carlisle will just love that.”

“I didn’t choose this monstrosity of a dress.”

Darcy pulled a light, cantaloupe melon-colored cardigan sweater out of her bag and unrolled it, shrugging it over her bare shoulders and buttoning the top three buttons.

“That’s more like it. Matches your hair. By the way, where’d you go this time? When you went inside? Where were you?”

Willow was the only person who knew about Darcy’s occasional visions, her escapes to the enchanted forest when she went inside.

Darcy had started having the visions the fall after her fifteenth birthday.

At first, they would just appear out of nowhere.

A dizzying, swirling feeling would overtake her, and if she closed her eyes, she’d feel as though she was transported somewhere else.

She’d be enveloped in the welcoming warmth of the forest, soothed by nature’s sounds, know the pleasure of belonging somewhere, and best of all, she’d hear Jack Beauloup’s voice from that night whispering softly in her ear once again.

But she’d also been frightened by the trance-like state that would last anywhere from thirty seconds to several minutes, no matter how good it felt while she was there. By Christmastime, she felt like she was going crazy, losing her mind, and fearfully confided the visions to Willow.

Thank God, because Willow, who was one-quarter Métis on her father’s side, had taken the news in stride, impressed and intrigued.

Pouring over Métis books on trances and hypnosis for their entire winter break, they agreed that Darcy had somehow tapped into the gift of soul flight.

Willow encouraged Darcy to master her special talent, control the length of her stays, when and where she welcomed them, and how to fend them off at inopportune times.

Darcy had never actually been able to control them, but with the exception of the last few months, their frequency had diminished to two or three times a year.

She didn’t mind them. She was grateful, even, to turn herself over to the embrace of the forest now and then, to the warm heaven of Jack Beauloup’s low, urgent voice from long ago.

In the past few months, however, the frequency had increased again.

She was going inside more and more often, unable to control the arrival and length of the visions.

While it wasn’t exactly frightening her, after a decade of only occasional episodes, it was unsettling.

And for the first time, the forest visions didn’t seem like a private world.

For the first time, she understood something, or someone, was there with her.

“Darcy and Willow.” Honoria and her skinny bald husband, Bob, approached their table for the duty greeting.

For the first time, Darcy realized that the table was practically on the outskirts of the outdoor, tented reception, and only sat four people, as opposed to the tables of eight and ten closer to the dance floor.

It was definitely the spot farthest away from the head table where the rest of the bridesmaids, led by Honoria’s twin sisters, Theodora and Aurelia, were doing a good job getting drunk on shots of clear liquid.

“I just knew you two would want to be together, so I didn’t put you at the head table, Darcy.”

“How thoughtful.”

Willow stood up to greet the bride, her slim figure, black dress, and gamine jet-black hair a striking contrast against Honoria’s blonde chignon and cream puff of a gown. Willow gestured to Honoria’s belly with her champagne glass. “No drinking, now. Doctor’s orders.”

Honoria’s eyes widened, then narrowed as she gave Willow, Carlisle’s only local physician, a tight smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Dr. Broussard.”

“Congratulations, Bob.” Darcy stood up and opened her arms to her cousin’s new husband.

Bob glanced quickly at Honoria, who answered his silent question with a curt nod as if to say, “Oh, for god’s sake, just hug her and get it over with so we can get away from these two,” before stepping into Darcy’s embrace.

“Welcome to the family,” she whispered into his ear. “Good luck with Honoria. You’re going to need it.”

Bob stumbled back, staring at Darcy, who smiled at her cousin’s new husband with amusement. “Why, Bob Fellows, you’d think I bit you.”

Honoria glared at the two women, then gestured to Darcy’s altered neckline and cardigan. “Always have to be different, right, Darce?”

Darcy met her cousin’s blue eyes with cool defiance. “You know me.”

“Unfortunately.” And then Honoria flounced away, dragging poor Bob behind her.

Without missing a beat, Darcy turned back to Willow to continue their conversation. “You asked where I was this time? A bed of needles. There was someone nearby. Watching me. Near me.”

“That’s happening more and more lately, isn’t it? Someone else in there with you…”

Darcy nodded, sitting back down and refilling her own glass with a bottle of champagne set on the tables for toasting.

“You know that I straddle the line between the medical world and the natural world, but I’m starting to worry,” said Willow, refilling her glass as well. “I’m wondering if we should get an MRI on that head of yours.”

“Don’t worry, Will. It doesn’t feel any different than it ever has. Nothing’s changed…except when I’m in there.”

“Okay. But I can arrange it in North Conway or at Dartmouth whenever you say the word. No one needs to know.” She paused and placed her hand over Darcy’s. “Who do you think it is? Who’s inside with you?”

Darcy had no answer for her friend, so she shrugged. In twenty years, she had never seen another person when she went inside. Her mind amended the thought. Maybe you haven’t seen another person, but you’ve certainly heard one.

And lately, she felt someone. She knew someone was there, watching, waiting.

Darcy gestured to the two empty chairs at the small round table. “Who do you think these chairs are for?”

“For us.”

Darcy and Willow looked up simultaneously to see Darcy’s brother, Amory, standing over their table.

Darcy smiled at her brother, shielding her eyes from the bright sun, then noticing, for the first time, the figure standing beside her brother, who stepped in front of the sun like a solar eclipse, blocking the light, but somehow not the warmth.

Darcy’s heart stopped beating, and her breath caught in her throat as she stood up, slowly, disbelievingly.

It was the man from the edge of the woods.

For the first time in twenty years, Darcy Turner was face-to-face with Jack Beauloup.