Still, it felt wrong not telling her. I wished I could talk it all over with a close friend. Someone like Rosie. She would empathize.
It was so strange to think that two of us could exist now. As soon as possible, I intended to get to the Onar Clinic and free her, and I couldn’t guess what I’d find. I felt inwardly complete, like I’d taken my soul, my inherent me-ness with me when I’d escaped. But that presented a puzzle for what I’d left behind. Did she feel whole, too? Had we split neatly into two? She might be lost in an unthinking stupor.
I needed to find out. Despite what Orson had said, I couldn’t help wishing there was some way I could still return to my old body and leave Althea’s life behind. At the very least, I needed to discover what had happened to her.
Hours later, as we approached Holdum, Texas, the welcome sight of green rose to meet us. Our jet touched down, and with my first whiff of warm, balmy air, I shook off my last hunch of winter. A driver collected our gear while I took a backseat in a fancy, new-smelling SUV. A big sky arched above the sprawling landscape, and random, solitary trees ruled over plots of green. We passed a barbed wire fence strung with catfish heads and a yard full of birdbaths for sale. I liked Texas.
“Almost home,” Diego said.
At the next corner, we turned off the highway onto a private road.
“At last,” Madeline said softly. “Would you look at the laurel.”
Shrubs of blue flowers edged the road, which went on for another couple of miles before we slowed to pass through a security gate. As we came around a final bend, a wide, sunny valley opened up on my right, like a giant hand had scooped out a perfect bowl of earth and filled it with grasses and wildflowers. On a ledge overlooking the valley stood a huge, rambling house of wood and stone. I counted five chimneys. An enormous beech tree dropped dark shade over the front yard and the porch, where a beagle rose to its feet.
“You didn’t tell me we lived in a castle,” I said as we pulled up.
“It’s just an old farmhouse, really,” Madeline said. “We added on.”
“Hey, girl. Hey Solana,” Diego said, getting out. “Look who’s back.”
The dog trotted eagerly over to Diego. I smoothed my sweater over my belly, caught up my cane, and stepped out of the car.
Madeline moved beside me and crouched down. “Solana, come here, girl! It’s Althea. Get over here and say hello.”
The dog came over to sniff at my knees and sneakers, but she showed no special recognition.
“It’s okay,” I said. I reached down to pat the dog’s soft head.
“I don’t understand it,” Madeline said. “I thought she’d be ecstatic. She still sleeps at the foot of your bed.”
A door slammed, and up on the porch, a dozen people came spilling out. They hurried down the steps, calling and laughing in welcome.
“Althea!”
“?Bienvenida a casa!”
“Really, Diego?” Madeline said.
“Es nuestra familia,” Diego said. “What could I say?”
Two dozen aunts, uncles, and cousins surrounded us, all laughing and talking at once. Most of them were Latino, like Diego, but a few were from Madeline’s side of the family, and all of them seemed bent on hugging me to death. Madeline tried to introduce people, but the names blurred together. Sunny and sassy, avuncular and intense, the different personalities were overwhelming. Aunts patted my belly and exclaimed over the baby, and a little boy cousin shyly gave me a homemade fuse bead star.
The last person to claim me was a big, hulking man with a strong resemblance to Diego. Althea’s grandfather wore a hat and a button-down shirt, as if he’d dressed up to bring some dignity to the occasion, and when he calmly took my hand, his grasp warmed me through.
“Mi corazoncita,” he said. “I’m so happy to have you home again! Let me see you.” He studied me openly. “Tell me honestly now,” he added. “How much do you remember?”
Around us, the others grew quiet. I glanced awkwardly from one face to another.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ve never seen this place before. I don’t remember any of you.” A flicker of headache pulsed through my brain, and I squinted against the brightness.
In the stillness, the little boy cousin tugged his mother’s skirt. “Can I have a popsicle yet?” he asked in a loud whisper.
The others stirred again and smiled.
“It’s all right,” Grampa said to me, patting my hand. “The heart knows where it belongs.”
“Okay, everybody,” Madeline said. “Let’s give Althea a chance to settle in.”
“That’s right,” added an aunt. “Food’s on. Aim for the kitchen.”
The circle broke up, and the family began drifting back inside.
Grampa offered me his elbow, and I shifted my cane so I could take his arm.
“Have you talked to Tom?” he asked. We walked slowly up the steps into the soft shade of the porch.
I shook my head.
“I’m surprised the boy hasn’t shown up,” he said. “Maybe he’s learned some sense. If you need anything, you let me know, hear?”
“Okay,” I said.
“‘Yes, sir,’ you mean,” he said gently. “That’s how we do it here.”
I gave him a quick look, but his expression was kind.
“Okay. Yes, sir,” I said.
He gave my hand another pat and released me as we stepped into the darker coolness of the house. He headed toward the kitchen, and I instinctively breathed deep, curious to see if the place might feel familiar in any way and awaken a trace of Althea inside me.
The air was redolent with a mix of furniture polish, a tang of wood smoke, and the sweetness of baking brownies. Laughter and the clink of silverware carried from the back of the house. The driver came in with a couple of suitcases and headed up a wide staircase toward a landing with big, tall windows. On my right, in the living room, a bronze sculpture of a duck sat on a small table by the windows, and books were piled and tucked into every corner. Time-mellowed woodwork laced up to a high ceiling, and a soft, heirloom carpet in indigo and beige beckoned me to take off my shoes. Already I could see glimpses of a library, a solarium, and a music room.
“This is beautiful,” I muttered, and stroked my hand along the back of a chair, liking the satiny wood. None of it was familiar.
“It’s home,” Madeline said from behind me.
I turned to see her taking a desultory pass through the mail on the hall table. She had a subtle new air about her, still commanding but more relaxed, like she’d arrived where she belonged.
She glanced up at me and smiled. “Something here ought to resonate, don’t you think? Eventually? Even if it doesn’t, you can learn your memories again. That’s what Dr. Fallon said. Enough to get by and go forward.”
“It wouldn’t be learning again. It would just be learning, the first time around,” I said.
Her smile pinched at the corners. “We’re saying the same thing.”
We weren’t, but I didn’t see the point of arguing. “Yes, ma’am.”
She gave my arm a motherly squeeze. “Come get a bite to eat.”