Page 64 of Always

Her voice breaks a little, but steely determination fills her eyes.

“Tell me,” I prod.

She draws in a breath. “When I remember the cornfield, some of it is so clear. My heart thumping, fear flowing through me. My little legs trying to run but tripping, and then the pole springing and breaking my path. Hitting my head. Then waking up in bed. But so much else was a blur. Like why was I running in the first place? I remember chasing the praying mantis, but there was so much urgency.”

“And did you figure that out?”

She nods. “For now, anyway. But like I said, I believe it’s a journey.”

“I understand. Life is a journey, Skye.”

“Exactly. I told you that I stopped asking my parents about their separation when I was little because they kept telling me that it was in the past and nothing for me to worry about. But after talking to my therapist, I went to my mother again.”

“And did you get your answer?”

She swallows. “I did. And it’s not pretty. Not pretty at all.”

“Do you want to tell me?”

“I do.” She bites her lips, pauses a moment. “I asked my mother again, and this time I told her I needed an answer because I was trying to figure some things out about myself. About my relationship with you. About my relationship with everyone, really. And that it all seemed to come back to those few months when Dad left.”

“And what did she say?”

Skye sighs. “She said something that surprised the hell out of me.”

I lift my eyebrows.

“She said that leaving wasn’t my father’s idea.”

“It wasn’t?”

She shakes her head. “We didn’t have a lot of money in those days, but that year we had a bumper crop, and we needed extra help. So Dad hired a hand. His name was Mario. I didn’t remember him for the life of me, but then she told me to think back to that day I ran off chasing a praying mantis. She said Mario is the one who found me.”

“But you don’t remember being found.”

“Right. I don’t. All I remember is waking up later in my bed. Then she dropped a bomb on me.”

My heart skips. Clearly this is a turning point for Skye.

“She told me,” Skye continues, “that Mario is the reason I ran off.”

I absently clench my hand into a fist. If Mario hurt Skye in any way, I will hunt him down and make him pay.

“No, no, no.” Skye shakes her head, seeming to read my mind. “Nothing happened with Mario. At least not to me.”

I heave out a sigh of relief. “Thank God. Go on.”

“So I started thinking, and then something appeared in my mind. I wasn’t sure what it was yet, but Mom kept talking, telling me I had hit my head really hard and that I had a concussion.”

“A concussion can cause retrograde amnesia,” I say. “Maybe that’s why you don’t remember Mario.”

“That’s probably part of it, but I think I repressed what I saw.” She gulps audibly. “I saw my mother. In the bed she shared with my father.” Another gulp. “With Mario.”

“God, Skye.” My heart breaks for her. “I’m so sorry. So it wasn’t your father who had an affair.”

“No.” She sighs. “My mom said I broke a plate and ran out. And I remembered. I remembered breaking some of her good china, but mostly I remember the praying mantis. I was a tomboy back then, and I loved bugs. My mom always tried to dress me in girly things, but I just got them all dirty.”

“I can totally see that,” I say, smiling.

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