Page 30 of The Unmaking of June Farrow

When I looked down to my finger, the moth was suddenly gone, and with it, the view of the tobacco field began to disintegrate. In a matter of seconds, it had vanished, replaced by the abandoned farm that surrounded me.

A tight breath escaped my lips as I stumbled back to the truck, my hand clumsily reaching behind me for the door handle. I hit the gas, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the sinking porch that encircled the house. The chimney. The crooked front door.

A bead of sweat trailed down the center of my back, and I rolled down the window, trying to wash that scent from the cab. The sweet, berry-ripe, wood-rotting smell that swirled around me. I drank in the wind, the speedometer climbing until I was finally able to breathe. And when I got up the nerve to glance in the rearview mirror one more time, the house had disappeared behind the hill.

The truck slid to a stop when I reached the river road and I stared into the empty field on the other side, still breathing too hard. Whathappened back there—that vision—was different from the episodes that filled my notebook. What had Birdie asked me? If I wasremembering? That’s exactly how it had felt. Like opening a hole in my mind that held something I’d forgotten. But what?

I glanced to the left, where downtown Jasper lay beyond the hills. I didn’t care what promises Birdie had made or how things were supposed to happen. She was going to tell me what I needed to know. Right now.

I turned the wheel in the opposite direction, headed for the farm. The urge I had to call Mason was so strong that I had to will myself not to reach for my phone sitting in the passenger seat. What would I even tell him? How could I ever explain this? The person I should really be calling was Dr. Jennings. There wasn’t a single moment that had made sense since I’d opened that envelope from Gran, and the image that kept replaying in my mind was of Susanna. Not the woman in the photo or the one in my files in the basement. It was what I imagined she had looked like that night, walking barefoot on that road in the middle of a snowstorm. Lost and confused, just like I was now. I could almost see her up ahead, trailing the edge of the road in her damp nightgown, skin drained of color in the cold. A drifting figure in a sea of white.

I swallowed down the nauseous feeling climbing up my throat. Was it Susanna I imagined there on the side of the road, or was it me?

The road curved sharply, and my fingers loosened on the wheel when I caught sight of something flashing into view through the driver’s side window. Just as quickly as it appeared, it vanished behind me. I slammed on the brakes, tires screeching on the blacktop as the truck came to a jerking stop.

I watched as the smoke from the tires drifted past the windshield, and I took three deep breaths before I dared to look in the rearview mirror.

I hadn’t imagined it. It was the door. The red door.

The very same one I’d seen in the cemetery. At the farm. On Main Street. The same brass handle. The same chipping paint. It stood erectin the middle of the field, a blot of crimson against the rolling green hills.

I got out, a floating feeling settling over me as I walked slowly toward the trees. The truck rumbled behind me, and the sound of the wind swallowed up the silence, reverberating in every cell of my body. The scent of burning rubber still stung my nose as I waded into the tall grass.

“It’s not real,” I whispered, out of habit more than anything. The words were a knee-jerk reaction, but they weren’t true anymore. They never had been.

I was breathing so hard now that my lungs hurt. At any moment, I was going to wake, I told myself. I was going to open my eyes in my own bed and realize that none of this had ever happened. But the thought was followed immediately by another. That I had to see what was on the other side.

I stopped when I reached it, boots sinking into the rain-softened soil.

Open it,Birdie’s voice echoed.

I looked up and down the empty road, eyes lifting to scan the trees in the distance. There was no one to see me standing in that field in front of a door that wasn’t there. No one to bear witness to my madness.

Before I could change my mind, I reached out, fingertips tingling when they touched the scalloped doorknob. My hand curled around it, and I heard myself exhale before it turned. With a shaking, terrified breath, I pushed it open.

My eyes widened as the hinges creaked and the door drifted away from me.

On the other side was another field. Beyond it, a blacktop road was carved into the earth against a thick tree line. I could hear the cicadas. The water in the creek.

Again, I looked behind me to the truck parked with the door ajar down the road. The cool metal of the doorknob was still there on myfingers. But I froze when I heard the sound of wind in the trees, the leaves rustling. Because I couldn’t feel it.

Carefully, my gaze returned to the open door. On the other side, the branches were bowed, the grass bending beneath a swift breeze. But on this side, all was still.

I lifted a hand slowly, moving closer, and when it crossed the threshold, a brisk wind wove through my fingers. My lips parted in an overwhelming awe as I closed it into a fist and drew it back. As soon as I did, the wind disappeared.

I stared at my palm, my gaze following the lines that spread like tree roots over my skin.

Two places at once.

It was Gran’s voice I heard as I counted the inhale.One, two, three.I took a step forward, exhaling a shaky breath.One, two, three.I don’t think there was a moment when I made up my mind. There was no single thought that made me do it. I was just suddenly moving forward until my boot was touching down on that glistening grass.

The wind caught me, pulling my hair across my face, and I filled my chest with the summer-sweet air. Dragonflies danced on the sparkling water below.

But when I turned around, the door was gone.

I looked around me, turning slowly in a circle. My breath shook when I caught sight of the freshly paved road winding between the fields like a snake disappearing into the hills.

The truck had vanished.