Once Jacob returned to June of 2020, the first thing he did was check the table. Rory’s obituary was gone. “Thank God.” He collapsed into the old, wooden chair in front of him and waited a minute—for what, he wasn’t sure. Maybe for Rory to come up from the basement or out of the bedroom, maybe for Wendy to still be alive, because what he had just done in the past, maybe, just maybe, it created a miracle.
None of that happened. He was still alone.
A storm had come up while he was gone, a violent one. Blue streaks zigzagged from the sky to the ground and thunder shook the whole house. He wondered if it would be safe to travel back again that night. In a few minutes, it would be time to go back to the night before he married Wendy, to the year they first made love by the pond and Rory watch
