Page 66 of Intersect

We nod, and Nick grabs my hand hard, channeling all his fear into it. “You’ve got the scans?” he asks.

The doctor nods, shifting uncomfortably. He’s frowning, and my heart starts to tap in my chest, faster and faster. I really believed what my mother just did would save me, would save all of us. All the effort she made, the years she put in, what she gave up…it cannot be for nothing. But the look on his face alone is crushing my hope into a million pieces. Nick’s shoulders go rigid, bracing for the worst. “The staff, uh, they tell me you are a neurologist?” he says to Nick.

Nick nods and glances at me. Fear is written all over his face. His hand presses tighter.

“We do not have your images from before,” the doctor says, moving to the light board, “but I am confused.” He hangs the scans up, one and then the next. “You said she had a brain tumor, but we see nothing there.”

I’m not a doctor, but even I can see that each image shows a perfect, tumor-free brain.

Nick’s utter shock turns to something else. He swallows hard, stares at the floor as he tries to compose himself. “I guess,” he says in a choked voice, squeezing my hand, “that you were right about your mom after all.”

34

QUINN

When I wake the next morning in the hotel, I’m alone. A note on the nightstand from Nick tells me he’s off finding “breakfast for the four of us.” I lie back, smiling at the ceiling. It was a long time coming, and a lot of sorrow on the way, but I think we’re finally getting our happy ending.

I called my mother—the one who raised me in this life—last night. She was so relieved by my news about the tumor that she didn’t even ask about the emergency I’d mentioned earlier on the phone. She did ask if I’d consider going back to Jeff now that I’m healthy again and I laughed. I haven’t told her about the pregnancy yet—it’s best to give her surprises in small doses—but given that I’m carrying someone else’s kids, I seriously doubt Jeff would want me back even if I were willing.

I hop into the shower, eager for this last day in Paris with Nick, and just as eager to get home and start our lives. He’s returning with two full bags of something fragrant and newly baked when I emerge.

“When you said you were buying food for four,” I say, tying the sash of my robe, “I didn’t realize you meant it literally.”

He grins, a little sheepish. “I got carried away. You’ll probably need to get used to it.” He hands me a Styrofoam cup. “Caffeine-free.”

I accept the coffee and blow on the steam coming from the lid, while he opens a bag and pulls out a variety of pastries. “Why do I feel like you’re buttering me up?” I ask.

He exhales. “I grabbed something from the desk at Sarah’s yesterday,” he says. He goes to his laptop bag and hands me a manila envelope with my name on the front. “Things were so heavy at the time that I thought I should wait. But since I’m not sure what’s in there, you probably need to take a look before we go home. I can give you some time alone to go through it if you want.”

I take a seat on the bed, patting the spot beside me, and then I carefully unclasp the envelope. Inside, the stack of papers clipped together is nearly an inch thick. I remove the letter on the very top and hand the rest of the pile to him. In a way I don’t want to read it. This is the last thing I’ll ever receive from my mother, the last piece of her I’ll hold. But I hope, at the same time, that it will help me remember her.

To my Beautiful Daughter —

In this envelope you’ll find deeds to some of my properties, and my lawyer will pass on the rest soon. Needless to say, it is all yours now. I have taken care of things so there will be no questions about my disappearance. And there are some photos here to help both of you, but I’ve broken my own rules to acquire them. Once you begin time traveling, you should take pains not to be photographed.

And now for the hard part. I’ve had a long time to think about what I would put in this letter, and yet now that it’s finally time to write it, I’m at a loss. There are no words for how much I wish I could be there during this next stage of your life, how much I wish I could be a grandmother to your girls, but I’m so grateful you’ve made it where you are that it’s hard to want for much at the moment.

Never regret what happened. Your daughters needed you, not me. There will be times, I know, when you will question this, but you shouldn’t. Remember, I saw the outcome of them growing up without you and I know exactly how it would have turned out. They would have come far too soon, leaving one of them very ill and one of them bitter, with a father who never quite recovered from losing you. You will change all that. You will give all of them the life they are meant to have. There’s more, but it can wait. Come back to see me and let me know how it all turned out.

All my love,

Mom

I can’t say it helped me remember her, but there’s still hope. Eventually I’ll go back and get reacquainted with the mother I don’t remember and, perhaps too, with the father I never met. I brush at my eyes and turn to him. My voice is raspy. “Anything there?”

He starts shuffling through the papers. “You have property,” he says. “You have a lot of property. Greece, Paris, London, Brazil, California…Jesus, it goes on and on.”

My breath releases in an audible huff. After an entire lifetime spent worrying about money, I’ll never have to worry about it again. I wonder why she never shared it with my father—uncle, I correct, though he will always seem like my dad—but realize she probably tried and he was just too proud to take it. “I suspect that’s the tip of the iceberg,” I say quietly.

He presses his mouth close to my ear. “So you’re telling me I fell in love with an unemployed student and it turns out she may be an heiress?”

My lips tug upward. “I hope you’ll be able to live with it.”

“I’ll manage,” he says with a grin, which fades when he shuffles through the last of the papers and comes to the photos.

Photos of us, together. In a previous life.

“What the hell?” Nick whispers.