Chapter Three
Henry
“It was Cara. I swear to God that it was, Uncle Jake.”
Jake’s been making us dinner while he listens to the news on his phone. The avalanche and the crash are all over it right now. He looks up from rough-chopping a length of pepperoni, his expression pained.
“Henry...Cara’s dead. You know that.”
I take a deep breath. He said the same thing to me on the phone, while I was looking right at her. Cara, my love, my wife, whom I buried almost twenty years ago.
I saved you this time, I think, l*****g my dry, chilled lips as a sense of unreality washes over me. I finally managed it.
Logically, I know that my uncle’s right. His hard, worried look drags my feet back onto the ground: flight of fancy over.
Not my wife at all. Too young, and way too...alive. But how the Hel
