Intertwined

“Hello, Mary A

She shivered, the urge to hug him stronger than ever before. “Hello.”

“Should we leave?” Victoria asked.

“You can’t,” Aden-Eve said. “Without Riley, Mary A

They lapsed into an awkward silence.

“This is silly,” Mary A

You do know something about her, she reminded herself. The journal. One passage was already burned into her memory.

My friends think I’m stupid. Having a baby at my age when there are ways to “fix” the situation. As if I could part with this miracle. I can feel her already. I love her already. I would die for her.

Sadly, she probably had.

“Do you remember anything about your life?” Mary A

A shake of that dark head. “No. I’ve tried. We’ve all tried. I think there are memories just waiting to be freed. I mean, I can feel something swirling in my consciousness, but I just can’t seem to get to it.” A sigh. “We all have thoughts and feelings, fears and desires we can’t explain any other way.”

“What are yours?” she dared to ask.

A fond smile. “I’ve always been the mother hen, as Aden calls me. The protector. The scolder.” That dark gaze lowered, and the smile faded away. “I’ve always loved children and feared being alone. Perhaps that’s why I didn’t help Aden try to find a way to free us as doggedly as I should have. But that’s my cross to bear.”

The nuances of Eve’s personality fascinated her, and she found herself comparing her to the little she knew about her mother. So far, they meshed. “You met my father during a therapy session. Do you remember that?”

“Yes.”

“Did you feel anything for him? Like an unexplainable need to hug him, the way Aden says you feel for me?” A need Mary A

“I felt a fondness for him, a sense of gratitude. At the time, I assumed those feeling were because of his treatment of Aden. He sat down with the boy, listened and didn’t judge.”

“Now?”

A shrug. “I’m not sure. Like Aden, I was just a child when I first met your father. I wouldn’t have known how to interpret something deeper, like what a husband and wife should feel for each other.”

Mary A

“I have control of the body now. I could travel back, maybe put myself inside a younger version of me. This is amazing!” Aden-Eve’s head tilted to the side; his lips lifted in another smile. “All the voices. Wow. I had forgotten how difficult it is to tune everyone out. Aden’s reminding me that I have to have a specific piece of my life in mind to travel back and as I recall nothing about who I was, if I even was someone else, there’s nowhere for me to go but his past.”

Mary A

Did she want it to? Did she not want it to?

“Wonderful idea.” Aden-Eve’s hands were shaking just as violently as those strong fingers cracked the spine, settling on a page. “Today I am tired,” he read. “There is nothing on TV, but that’s okay. I have company. My precious angel, nestled close to my heart. Her kicks are strong today.” He rubbed his stomach, as if checking for signs of life. “She’s craving apple pie. Maybe I’ll bake her one. I can almost smell the ci

Aden flipped the page, hand shaking, and continued reading. “I was too tired to bake so Morris brought a pie home. The store only had cherry so it’ll have to do. I just hope my angel doesn’t start kicking up another fuss. She’s…he’s—Oh, my God.” Lips smacked together. “It’s almost like I can taste it.” Deep breath. “Smell it, too. I can even see it. I can really see it! The cherries are so red.” There was an excited gasp, and then suddenly Aden was gone, the only indication he’d been there the dent in the mattress.

Victoria and Riley popped to their feet, both gazing around the room with concern. Mary A

She didn’t have to wait long. Within three minutes, Aden was back on the bed as if he’d never left. His eyes were still hazel. Like Mary A

“I remember. I remember.” Eve launched herself at Mary A

At first, Mary A

“I went back. I was there, in the little house I shared with your dad. I was eight months pregnant and lying on the couch, rubbing my belly and singing you a lullaby, that bowl of cherry pie resting on top of me. I remember now. I remember. The walls had the most horrid floral wallpaper, and the furniture was threadbare, but clean, and I loved every stitch. The orange couch, the yellow loveseat. I’d worked as a waitress to help pay for everything. And since my first memory with Aden isn’t as your next-door neighbor, I’m guessing his parents moved him.” Her grip tightened. “All this time…if only they had stayed, I could have watched my angel grow up. My beautiful angel.”

Mary A

Carolyn could have changed the décor, but she hadn’t. She’d left everything the same. A tribute to the sister she’d both envied and mourned?

There was no way Eve could know those details. Unless…Mary A

Eve petted her hair. “Tell me your aunt Carolyn treated you well. Tell me your life has been happy.”

Her arms moved of their own accord, wrapping around Eve’s shoulders. They hugged as tightly as they’d longed to do since the begi

“I was happy,” she worked past her throat. “She treated me like her own. And I think—I think she missed you. She changed nothing in the house, even picked up the bright color scheme when we moved, probably so that we’d both feel closer to you.”

“So she forgave me. Thank you for telling me that.” Eve pulled back and cupped her trembling chin, staring into her watery eyes. “Oh, my darling girl. I adored you from the moment I first learned of you, imagining the two of us tending the garden together, shopping, you styling my hair, painting my nails and doing my makeup as I used to do to my mother. Your father named you after me and the hospital you were born at, I’m guessing.”