“Is that the kind of tree you had growing up?”
“A few times. We had one too. You said it was the most beautiful Christmas tree you ever had.”
I look over at him as he surveys the trees all around us. Back in the hospital, I didn’t feel anything for him, not like I do now. I try to remember what I thought then, but it comes back as a big, scary blur right now. I’m not sure when this attraction started, or how it continues to grow even while I’m infuriated with him and his stories.
“Are you even looking?”
“Yes, I’m looking.” Maybe not at trees, but I was looking. I turn around in a circle. They’re everywhere, five to ten feet tall, with sparse branches. The needles grow flat. They have a completely different look to them, but I do remember seeing one decorated, the ornaments hanging down between the branches…and tinsel, glittering from all the little needles.
“See one you like?”
“I’m not sure yet.” I spot a nice one but the backside is bare. Eli walks next to me.
“That’s an elk rub, where the branches and bark are all rubbed off.” He looks around. “I bet it was from this year. There’s sign on the ground too.”
I look around and think I see what’s he’s talking about, before I go back to looking at trees.
A thought bounces into my head: his story didn’t explain my memory loss. I turn to ask him but he’s not there.
He’s twenty feet away, squatted down to look at the bottom trunk of a tree. First he looks up at it from his low position, then he stands and walks around the tree in a circle. It has perfectly spaced branches, but they’re a little too far apart. There’s also one spot that’s open, without any branches. Eli looks up at me with a shrug.
“It’s close but not perfect,” he says and continues on. We hike deeper into the forest, and I stop at a pretty tree but it’s over fifteen feet high.
“I could cut it down and take the top part.”
“No, there’s so many other nice ones.” I turn and bump into him. My heart rate takes off again before I feel his hands through my coat, holding my waist.
“The part I didn’t tell you…” He searches my eyes while I hold my breath. “Is that I didn’t want to disappoint you. I let you down before. I hated having to tell you all of that back in Maine.”
“And my memory loss let you off the hook,” I say slowly, dropping my gaze.
“No, not exactly. I dreaded having to tell you a second time, and letting you down all over again. You got to start over fresh.”
“But I didn’t want to.”
“I get that. I know. And I wish we—well, we’re here now, where we wanted to be. It’s not how we wanted to get here, but…” His mouth lifts up in one corner as he pulls me closer.
I put a hand on his chest to stop him before he can kiss me. “So how did I lose my memory? You’re telling me everything now, right?”
“That happened exactly like I told you, in the car accident, after we moved here. When I realized you didn’t remember, I thought it was a second chance. I’m sorry, Meg. I wanted life to go on and be perfect. I didn’t want you to know how badly I messed things up for us.”
I don’t know if I believe it all. I want to. I’m scared to at the same time.
He reaches inside my coat and slides his hands along my waist right above my jeans. My body jerks, heating up in the cold weather.
I pull back. “No way—you are not distracting me.”
He looks let down like I just took away his ice cream cone.
“Alright, let’s cut down a tree,” he says, rallying quickly, and turning to walk back toward the truck. “I think we’ve seen enough. We should pick one.”
I catch up to walk beside him, and notice it behind him: the perfect tree.
“Look at that one.”
He circles it several times, looks at the bottom, and stands with his hands on his hips. “This is the one. I’ll get the chainsaw.”
“You’re not going to cut it with the ax?” I dare. Eli throws me a look, and I can tell he’s accepting my challenge. “I’ll wait here.”
The gleam in his eyes fades and turns to suspicion.
“So we don’t lose this tree.”
He looks at the tree before taking off at a fast walk, and I’m shocked that he listened to me. I push my hands down into my coat pockets and listen to his snow boots compacting the snow; vert, vert, vert. As his footsteps fade away, it grows almost silent around me. I hear the wind whistling in the treetops. It’s me and the trees and a few snowflakes shaking out of their branches.
I could start running but think it through instead. I would have a few minutes head start on Eli, but my footsteps would show, and I’m not sure I could make it down to another road before he caught up to me. If I actually made it away, I’d be facing ten hours of darkness and freezing temperatures. The wind howls above me, sending a shiver down my spine.
Chapter Twenty-Two
*
Eli
I jog back toward the truck, hoping reason wins out and Megan stays put, which almost makes me laugh except the situation is too dangerous. She’s incredibly intelligent but reason is not her driving force. That’s why I love her so much. She has a passion and drive that other people can’t begin to understand. That same drive is pushing her to investigate everything I tell her. Of course I prepared for that but I’m running out of explanations.
I remember when this started, when we stood on the empty property, envisioning the house and our life…
“It’ll be hard, I know,” she said, her eyes watery as she looked at me, a hand to the side of her face to block the sun. It’s blazing hot on our backs.
“It’ll be damn near impossible. How am I supposed to keep the truth from you? And convince you it’s okay when you don’t remember? You’re asking me to lie to you. To completely deceive you about everything.”
“I’m asking you to believe a new truth, and give me that truth. It’s our way out.” She laid her hand on my chest and begged with her eyes.
“What if you figure it out?”
“I thought of a backup explanation.”
“What if you don’t trust me?” I laid my forehead against hers and closed my eyes. Why couldn’t I talk her out of this?
She stepped back and took my face in her hands.
“I’ll always trust you. You’re a part of me like I’m a part of you. Nothing can change that. This is what we have to do. It’s the only way.”
Good god, when that woman gets an idea in her head, nothing short of Armageddon can stop her.
You don’t trust me, Megan. You think I’m going to put a bullet in your head and chop you up with an ax like some deranged murderer. You think I’d do that to my wife, the love of my life, the woman who saved my life and soul.
So what now? What do I do?
She really didn’t know what she was asking me back then. That, or she thought more of me than I do.
What if she does make a break for it out here? Her talents lie more in the interpersonal realm, not so much outdoor survival. She can navigate life with the rich and twisted, surrounded by power hungry tycoons and white collar killers, but I’m not sure she’d keep her head about her in a survival situation out here, especially in her confused mental state.
Why did I leave her by herself? Did I really think it’d prove that I trust her?
I pick up my pace, huffing it back in a fraction of the time it took us to walk out. I reach the truck, grab the ax, and turn right around. I’m not giving her any more time than I have to—she’s already been thinking too much as it is.
If she’d just let go of her doubts and focus on the future. On right now. On what we have here. I breathe in the scent of forest and snow and appreciate the simple pleasure we’re sharing out here, us and the woods, making memories.
What have we done? Was this the only way? She’s safe, but the price might have been too high. I might not be strong enough to stay a step ahead
of her.
Chapter Twenty-Three
*
Megan
I hear Eli returning. Running. When I spot him, he has the ax in his hands, jogging my way. I catch relief in his expression when he sees me—which means I’m getting better at reading him.
Reaching the tree, he rests the ax head on the ground, leaning on it for a few seconds, before suddenly swinging it up and back. It comes down on the base of the tree with a whack. He shakes the ax loose, pulls it back, and slams the blade into the same mark. Again. And again. He stops to rip his coat off and throw it aside.
I stand back, watching the way his entire body moves. He wore a short sleeve shirt after he told me to bundle up, and I can see the chorded muscles of his forearms flexing as he swings. The tree quivers with each strike. The next one tips it.
“Timmmmmber!” he yells as the tree shakes and falls to its side. He breathes hard from the exertion but wears a smile. It’s contagious.
How does he do this to me? I’m actually believing that crazy story. I walk closer to check out the tree. When I look up, Eli is taking my picture with his phone.
“Really?”
“Yes, really. And guess what? You smiled.” His face softens as he looks at the screen.
He picks up the base of the tree trunk in one hand, still carrying the ax in the other. “Can you get the other end?”
I grab his coat and the light end of the tree before we proceed back through the young forest, tethered by our new Christmas tree. The air is cold and fresh, filled with the scent of the trees, and a hint of Eli’s cologne when the breeze blows in my face. My nose and eyelids burn from the exposure, but it energizes me to feel the crisp air.
“Isn’t this great? We should have come up here sooner.”
“It’s pretty, and quiet,” I agree.
Back at the truck, Eli puts the tailgate down and we slide the tree up into the bed, bottom first so the branches won’t break. The entire experience feels a bit like a daydream because my mind is running through his story, trying to rewrite what I know.
“Coffee?” He dumps out my untouched, cold coffee and pours steaming hot liquid into the cup. This time, I take it gratefully and sip while he takes the small cooler out of the truck, sets it on the tailgate, and starts to make sandwiches.
“What about Bethany?”
“Bethany?” He looks honestly blank.
“The nurse. And the doctor. There was something off about both of them. Were they in on it?” But why were they allowed to know when I wasn’t? They had to know; there’s no other explanation.
“They weren’t in on it. They did understand it was a very sensitive situation, and that the FBI enforced secrecy.”
“So why not tell me?” I ask, even though his answer is playing through my mind. Eli looks at me, knowing this too. He doesn’t want to explain again. I sigh. “This is new to me. So even if you’ve been living it awhile, you owe me an explanation and patience and answers.” It’s almost funny the way we’re stressing words at each other.
“Yes, I suppose so.” He hands me a sandwich with the works: lettuce, tomato, Swiss, spicy mustard, and dark forest ham. It’s really good.
Eli sits on the tailgate to eat his sandwich. I start to join him but change my mind so I can see his face when I can ask more questions.
“So… if there was security at the hospital and the FBI was involved in that, you’re saying the accident wasn’t an accident?”
He stops chewing for a few seconds. When he chews and swallows, I wonder what he’s thinking through. “As a precaution.”
“Why?”
“That’s what I’m saying, there wasn’t a reason to suspect your accident was connected to Gary, but I wasn’t going to risk it. It scared me.”
I turn to look into the forest. It’s snowing again and getting dark—it was daylight minutes ago but now it’s dusk and growing darker by the second. Behind me, Eli packs up and starts the truck, then comes to me and wraps his arms around me from behind.
It takes me all this time to realize what I’m feeling: a sense of loss. I lost more than my memory. I lost time and relationships. I lost any sense of security, if I had that before. I lost even knowing what I had lost.
I’m starting to think that I’ve lost the ability to trust. Because, after all of this, how can I trust Eli? I need him, but I have no way of knowing if this is the truth or another story to keep me satisfied.
“Truck should be warm by now.”
I pull away and get into the passenger seat. It’s blazing hot inside and my face burns after being out in the snow. I pull off my layers as he gets in and backs up.
Full darkness falls and we’re halfway down the mountain when I ask him, “Why are you watching me at the house?”
He doesn’t answer. I don’t look over.
“I’ve almost lost you twice, babe. I know I went overboard with the security, but I kept thinking something else could happen to you.”
He loves me.
The thought—the feeling—hits me hard.
A lot of his story doesn’t add up in my mind, but I might believe him on this one point. And maybe that one point does make the rest of it make sense.
“Will you stop?”
“The truck?”
He does that to throw me off my original question sometimes.
“No, stop spying on me.” I don’t add that it’s an ultimatum. He has to know that. “You’ll turn off any cameras inside the house?”
“Yes.”
“Do you promise?”
“I promise.”
When he reaches over and takes my hand, I don’t pull it away.
***
Eli drives and listens to country music while I try to sort out my thoughts. I would press him for more answers but I can tell he’s done. He visibly reaches a wall sometimes. I’m surprised he gave me as much as he did. But how much is true?
I think of all the things he didn’t say. Our real names. Why we couldn’t talk in the house. If the neighbors are in on it.
“Wait!”
He jerks.
I’m excited, not freaking out, so he waits.
“Did you make up my childhood and the foster homes? Do I actually have family?”
“I’m sorry, sweetie. That part was true. Neither of us had a family. So I wasn’t lying about bonding because we were both loners, either. I mean, we didn’t choose that so much as get it handed to us.”
“Wait… You lied about your mother?”
“She’s our contact.”
I shake my head. My brain actually hurts from taking in so much information today. “What do you mean, our contact for witness protection? And I spent Thanksgiving with her?”
Eli goes quiet again and I lean back, feeling my eyes sting. It’s like I’m losing my family all over again—every time I realize anew that there was never any family to start with. And my mother-in-law isn’t family either. That was another lie. Shouldn’t I feel better now that I know?
“And what about Nick and Sabrina? Do they know?” It hurts to think he told them but not me. I’m still wondering if they staged that accident the other day to distract me.
“No. Listen.” He looks over. “This is critical. They don’t know, and we can’t tell them. We can’t tell anyone.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Eli comes to a stop at an intersection and glances at his phone.
“Speaking of Nick and Sabrina.” He puts the phone down and turns. “They’re at the diner up ahead and invited us to join them. It is about dinner time.”
“I don’t know…” I want to find a dark hole and hide for a few weeks. My head is pounding; my brain can only take so much in one day.
“Ah, come on. Aren’t you hungry? And won’t it be nice to see them again?” Eli rubs my arm. “You have to put all that other stuff into a box and shut it away. Live in the present, in our life together.”
Live the lie?
 
; For a second, I think I actually said that, but Eli doesn’t react. I’m mulling it over when he pulls into a small parking lot and turns off the truck. It’s very quiet all of a sudden. With a sigh, I open my door and walk inside with him, both of us in snow boots.
Dinner smells greet me and I realize I am hungry—maybe eating will make me feel better. Nick sees us from his booth and waves, flashing a big smile with dimples. I noticed the twinkle in his eyes before, but now I also see how pretty sky blue they are. He’s wearing a blue patterned sweater that I’d classify as a Christmas sweater, and looks like he’s ready to have a beer and watch a game on TV. Nick is so suburbian that it’s hard to imagine him as anything but a typical guy—a friendly, truthful guy. So why do I suspect more about them?
Sabrina turns as we approach and jumps up to hug me. “Megan! Merry Christmas! Isn’t this great timing?”
“Yup, we were just about to drive by,” I say, absorbing some of her perkiness. “How’s it going?” They’re sitting on opposite sides and I slide in with Sabrina. It’s not the typical double date seating arrangement but Eli sits with Nick without a fuss.
“Great! I’m all ready for Christmas. How about you two?”
“The tree is in the truck,” Eli tells them. A waitress appears, ready and waiting. After we order, Nick turns to Eli and they start discussing some project I haven’t heard about, something about pouring concrete for the foundation. Sabrina turns to me, her violet eyes glowing with excitement. Her constant enthusiasm, freckles, and shiny curly hair make her look like a teenager. I watch her talk, and wonder if Eli would have any reason to tell them that we’re in witness protection, if it’s true. What does she know? And would she tell me? I can’t ask her any direct questions though—it’s too risky, especially since they seem to be right there when Eli needs them.
“We should totally go get our hair done together sometime,” she says, and I tell myself I must be suffering from severe paranoia.
***
At home later, I run a bath. It’s quickly becoming my oasis in all of this. I light candles, turn off the lights, pour rose scented bath salts into the hot water, and sink in slowly as the water runs. That’s my favorite part of a bath: the soothing sound of the water rushing in. It relaxes me and my mind goes blank…for a few minutes. Then all the questions sweep back in, like leaves on a windy day.