Page 52 of Remain (one-of-a-kind)

I vaguely recalled Wren mentioning to me that Reece was the only family she had left.

“So who’s going to get the property now? Griffin?”

Oscar shook his head. “Aldrich suspects it’ll be split between the town and the conservation trust. He doubts Griffin will receive anything at all: Wren’s divorce attorney is adamant that Wren and Griffin weren’t getting back together, and he’s willing to testify to that fact.

Massachusetts law is also clear that inheritances that haven’t been received aren’t considered marital property, and because Wren died before the trust was distributed, the property never actually transferred to her. ”

“Griffin won’t be happy about that.”

“Who cares?” Oscar snorted. “Oh, and for what it’s worth, Aldrich claims to have had suspicions about Reece and Louise all along, just not enough evidence to do anything about it.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Had Aldrich been in touch earlier in the week, it would have saved us a lot of trouble.”

“That’s assuming he would have told us. I think the only reason he mentioned it this morning was because Reece is dead, and Louise is behind bars. But that reminds me: what do you want to do about Nash, Griffin, and Dax?”

I’d been thinking about that on and off in the hospital. “Nothing,” I finally answered. “They might have been awful to Wren, but they didn’t kill her.”

“You don’t care that Nash is a thief or that the last thing Dax should be doing is counseling people?”

“I think it’s best if I try to put all this behind me. More important, you’ll be living here, and you don’t need enemies.”

“Okay,” he said, scratching the skin at the upper end of his cast. He glanced away before turning back to me. “I saw her, you know. Wren, I mean. When I came to the house, I saw her through the window. She let me know you were trapped inside.”

“And?”

“It made me realize that even though I mostly believed you, there was a tiny part of me that didn’t.

But actually seeing her…” He hesitated. “It’s like having the rug pulled out from under you, because it reveals how little we know about existence.

And it makes me wonder about the big questions in life: Is there a God?

What else is out there? Where do we go when we die? ”

I nodded. “She saved my life, you know. She woke me up when I was unconscious. Without her, I wouldn’t have made it.”

For a moment we stayed quiet before he leaned toward me. “How are you doing? Now that you’ve had a little time to process everything?”

Remembering the dream, I avoided his gaze. “I miss her.”

“Maybe you’ll see her again.”

I stared out the window, focusing on a lone cloud in the bright blue sky beyond. “Maybe.”

· · ·

I was discharged later that day and immediately called an Uber to take me to the property. Among other things, I needed to pick up my car, the keys having fortunately been in my pocket when I’d dragged myself from the house.

After being dropped off, I took in the site where the house had been.

Little was left except the skeletal, charred structure and mountains of ash.

Aside from the concrete cellar and the chimney, only a blackened fragment of the corner wall near the bookshelves remained, overhung by a small wedge of the second floor.

This was the place where Wren had lived and died and lived again, and the destruction triggered a new wave of sadness.

I maneuvered through the debris, my crutches sinking into sodden piles of ash. I examined the remnants for signs of smoldering, but the firefighters had done their job well. No other structures on the property had been damaged, and even the nearby trees seemed unaffected.

I shuffled to the corner of the house that was still standing, moving with care to avoid disturbing the precarious structure.

The walls had nearly burned through, and the struts looked as though they’d dissipate in the slightest breeze.

Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the blackened masonry.

I had the strange feeling that Wren had preserved this part of the house for me, and I stopped short of the overhang.

“I’m here, Wren,” I said.

I waited, but there was nothing. Searching for a place to sit, I took a step toward a nearby lump of concrete when I heard her voice.

“Hello, Tate,” she said from behind me.

I turned. She was wearing the white dress from my dream. She was as beautiful as I remembered, and yet I detected a new aura of peace about her, heightening her loveliness. Her gold-flecked eyes, once troubled and plagued by self-doubt, now held only grace.

“I knew you’d come,” I said.

She tilted her head. “I could say the same thing,” she said, her gaze traveling over me. A frown creased her forehead as she took in my crutches and ugly bruises. “You’re injured.”

“I’ll be okay,” I said, thinking the change in her was remarkable. There was a quality of ease about her now, as if all her questions had been answered.

“Do you know?” I ventured in a tentative voice.

“Yes,” she answered. “I know what Reece and Louise did to me.”

“I wish I could have stopped it.”

She shook her head. “You didn’t know me then.”

In the hospital, I’d rehearsed everything I wanted to say to her, but in her presence, it was impossible to recall the words. Instead, I could only blurt out the obvious. “I don’t want you to go. I want you to remain here with me.”

Her eyes brimmed with regret. “I can’t stay.”

“But I love you.”

“And I love you,” she responded. “I think I loved you from the moment we met.”

I felt a part of me begin to disintegrate, a slow landslide beneath my feet. “What is there left for me without you?”

“Everything,” she answered. “It’s all waiting for you, Tate.” She took a step toward me, her expression tender. “I want you to live well and love deeply. Look for reasons to be grateful. Treasure your friends. Embark on wonderful adventures. Honor the gifts you’ve been given.”

“I want to do those things with you,” I said, already feeling defeated.

“If you really love me, you’ll do them anyway.”

“I don’t know how.”

“You will,” she promised. She smiled before raising an eyebrow. “Your sister feels certain that you can.”

“Sylvia? You and she…”

“Yes. You made her sound so delicate, but she’s a force of nature,” Wren observed. “She’s sweet and funny but determined. And she still worries about you and Mike. She watches over both of you.”

“Will you watch over me, too?”

“Always.”

“Will I be able to sense you?”

“Only in memory.”

I was quiet again, trying and failing to imagine a future in which I could no longer reach out for her. “I dreamed about you.”

“I know. I wanted to dance with you. I wanted to finally feel your arms around me. I wanted to kiss you.”

“Will I dream about you again?”

“Perhaps. But I won’t be there with you.”

I could feel despair seeping into me like water leaking into the foundation of a house. “I don’t think I can love anyone else.”

Her green eyes softened. “Oh, Tate,” she whispered, “loving another is a gift that you give to yourself. Haven’t you learned that yet?”

I had no answer. Stirring the ashes underfoot with the tip of one of my crutches, I asked instead, “How long can you stay with me?” My voice cracked.

“Not long now,” she said. “It’s almost time.”

“Can I ask a question?”

“You can ask me anything.”

“Why me? Was it because of Sylvia? Because she gave me her gift?”

“Sylvia might have opened the door, but in the end, it could only have been you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Yes,” she said with an enigmatic smile. “You do.”

Staring into her eyes, I suddenly realized she was right. When I’d arrived in Heatherington, I was a man held prisoner by my past; Wren, too, had been locked in a cage of her own making. Falling in love—and truly loving each other—had been the only way to free and save us both.

She smiled as though she’d heard me. Somehow, I knew that Sylvia, too, was smiling in agreement, and I watched as Wren slowly brought her hands toward me.

She gently cradled my face, without touching me, and when she was finished, I responded by tracing a finger along her cheekbones and lips, committing every line to memory.

She took a small step backward then, and I could feel her eyes on mine as the outline of her image began to fade.

“Wait! Wren!”

She paused, wavering like a mirage in the desert heat.

“I have to know. Did you make the house explode? When Reece was about to hit me with the crowbar? To stop him?”

She tilted her head. “What do you believe?”

For a moment she hovered before me, translucent, before she raised an eyebrow and began to fade again. And then, all at once, she was gone.

I don’t know how long I stood in the ruins of the house, tears streaming unchecked down my face. When the ache in my knee brought me back to reality, I wiped my eyes before carefully picking my way back through the ashes.

Opening my car door, I took one last glance over my shoulder, just in time to see the ruined overhang crash to the ground with a thunderclap. The walls followed in an avalanche of ashy dust, until nothing remained at all.