Page 105 of The Unmaking of June Farrow

Margaret was wringing her hands now, bottom lip trembling as she shot a glance at Eamon.

I took a measured step toward her. “You knew all this time.”

“I can’t.” Her voice scraped. “I promised I wouldn’t.”

“Tell me!” I took hold of her arms, squeezing.

“I promisedyou!” she cried, tearing away from me.

I let her go, and she stumbled into the porch railing, catching herself. She looked at the three of us with wide, glassy eyes.

“I’m not supposed to say anything. Not until you choose.”

“I gaveyouthe envelope with the bluebell, didn’t I?” I said it out loud as it dawned on me. “I told you to help me come back here.”

Her red face was streaked with tears now, her hair falling from its braid.

“Margaret,” I said, more gently. “Tell me.”

When Annie appeared in the doorway, Esther shooed her back into the house. Then she came outside and closed the door.

Margaret wiped her face. “You said you had an idea about how to—” She stopped herself.

“It’s all right, honey.” Esther rubbed her back, smoothing her braid. “Take your time.”

“You had an idea about how to make it so Annie wouldn’t ever get sick, but you couldn’t tell Eamon because he wouldn’t understand. You said he’d stop you from doing what you had to do. You begged me.”

I could see it. I could almost hear my own voice saying the words. The memory was trickling in now. Margaret whispering. The slam of a door somewhere.

“You told me to keep the envelope safe. For a long time. I’m supposed to give it to you in 2022 so that you’ll come back here.”

I shook my head. “Why didn’t you just tell me? Why not just explain?”

Now I was asking her to account for things she hadn’t yet done. That wasn’t fair. I knew it wasn’t, but I also couldn’t make sense of this.

“You said that you couldn’t know anything until the right time. If you did, it could change things. Set things off course. I’m not supposed to tell you anything until you start to remember.”

My mind raced, trying to match the timeline with the one that would play out more than seventy years from now.

“But then so much time went by that…” Her voice broke. “I thought maybe I’d messed it up, somehow.”

“What exactly did I tell you to do, Margaret?”

“I’m supposed to give you the locket. You told me to set it to 1951, not before, so that you wouldn’t risk returning to a time where you were still here.”

You cannot go where you already exist.

That was one of the rules.

I’d kept the hallucinations from Gran and Birdie for nearly a year. What Margaret couldn’t have known was when she would die. Mailing the photograph might have been her last-ditch effort. Her Hail Mary, hoping it would start the chain of events before it was too late.

All of this wasmydoing.

“Where did I go when I left, Margaret?”

She stared at her shoes, wiping her nose with her sleeve.

“It’s done now. I’m here. There’s no reason to keep it from me.”