Chapter 13: He Doesn't Remember

I don't remember walking out of the hall.

I remember the kitchen, and a cook holding a tray of rolls, and the back door banging against the wall.

Then I was in the snow in a green dress and no coat, and my hands were shaking too hard to hold my phone.

The back door banged again.

"Linnea."

It was Anders, with his jacket already off and held out in front of him.

"Don't," I said.

"You'll freeze." He put it around my shoulders anyway. "Come on. My truck's at the side. I'll take you home."

"Which home?"

"Whichever one doesn't have Ingrid in it."

I got in.

The heater roared, and we went down the lodge road with the dark pines flashing by, and neither of us said anything for the first three miles.

Behind us, I knew, two hundred people were toasting a wedding that had not been planned for me.

"She put my name on the list," I said finally.

"I know."

"She dressed me. She did my hair. She zipped me into this dress twice."

"I know, Linnea."

"I told her everything. I told her about the mark on my wrist. She sat on my bed and said it was beautiful."

Anders drove with both hands on the wheel and his jaw clenched.

"I'm going to be sick," I said.

He pulled over. I got out and was sick in a ditch with snow coming down on my bare arms.

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