He stepped through the door and, for the sake of his own dignity and self-worth, closed it after him. The doves were up by the house aviating, making wild circles and loops over the driveway, showing off, having the time of their lives. “Yeah, rub it in.”

The phone rang in the kitchen.

“Oohhh!”When it rained, it poured. Loose doves andthe phone ringing. If Dane had been sitting on the toilet right now the morning would have been perfect.

He ran up the pathway, all stops out, pedal to the metal, his legs still sore from the last big run, and got to the kitchen door as the answering machine picked up. “Hi, this is Dane. Please leave a short message …”

Who? Who is it?

The doves were soaring high, heading down the driveway, as good as gone.

He almost went inside to hear the message but stopped on the threshold.

“Hi, this is Jack Lewis …” Arnie’s code name! “Just want you to know that your order is still in process”—they hadn’t found Mandy yet—“but be advised the, uh, the means of shipping is, uh, unavailable … well, it’s gone, we can’t find it.” They couldn’t locate her blue Volkswagen. “However, if you have any information you can get back to us at …”

Arnie was leaving a new number to call, but Dane was watching the doves circle down toward the front gate, then perch, hop, and fly in short bursts along the top of the paddock fence, following …

A blue Volkswagen, rolling, jostling, whirring up the driveway. Arnie hung up, and Dane didn’t care. He stepped into the driveway, wanting only to see who was behind the wheel. When the little car came near the house and into the winter-thin shade of the aspens, he could see through the windshield.

It was …

What world was he living in now? Had he fallen from the real world into another madness, or from one madness, one dream, into another? Could he really believe what he was seeing, or was another reality or illusion or goofy deflection in the space-time watchamacallit going to horn in and change everything again? He wanted to believe, but he couldn’t. He thought he’d be ready and could handle it, but all he could do was stand there.

When she’d stopped the Bug, set the brake, and turned off the engine, she looked at him through the car window for the longest time, as if she were having the very same questions, as if that pane of glass could shield her from answers she couldn’t bear.

She was glad he remained so still, so everyday human with his bruises, tousled morning hair, and confounded expression. She needed a good, reassuring look at him before she opened the car door—and maybe he needed that kind of look at her.

He looked like the man she remembered, as real as ever he’d been. Shelooked like …

She stole a look at herself in the rearview mirror.

Do you remember, my love? All the years, all the seasons, all the changes we went through? These are what brought us to this day, this is who we really are, and this is where we belong. Do you see it that way?

Dane approached as the doves lit on the car roof, their feet tap-tap-tapping on the metal. He gazed at her through the window, put his fingertips on the glass. She placed her fingertips against his from the other side. They had the time, so they took it to look at each other.

She was alive. Beautiful and unafraid.

He placed his hand on the door handle. The latch clicked. He eased the door open, she swung her feet out, and then she stood with no glass, no door, no barrier between them.

She’d made it to Idaho.

“Well …” he said, drinking in the sight of her. This was she, the woman he’d loved for forty years.

Six-oh, she thought. Of course.He was supposed to be sixty and now it didn’t seem one bit strange to her. She was feeling kind of sixtyish herself and it wasn’t so bad, just a month or two older than she was before. It fit.

“Well …” she said back with a little smile, but thought, Go ahead, touch me.

* * *

He extended his hand. Maybe she’d touch him and see he was real, or he’d touch her …

She took his hand in hers and covered it with her other hand.

She was real, as real as ever she’d been.

They embraced, and from there they got to know each other again, taking it slow, feeling it new, savoring the hours as on their very first night.

chapter

54

Her soul at peace, Mandy slept until midday, then rose, showered, and slipped into Dane’s blue robe. It was warm and comfortable, and there was just something commemorative about it: she’d worn it right after he rescued her the first time. The thrill of it was, she didn’t have wet clothes in the dryer and, just as on their first day married, she would never have to leave.

Dane must have heard her stirring about. As she emerged from the bedroom he came up the stairs carrying a latte for himself and a mocha for her, brewed in their same old trusty coffeemaker.

“Oh, thank you, kind sir.”

“But of course.”

He’d pulled on his jeans and a pair of slippers. She took a second look at him, something she’d been doing since she got here.

“What?” he asked.

“You are so hairy!”

“Why, thank you.”

“When we first got married you had maybe two hairs on your chest.”

He shrugged and sipped from his latte. “Have you seen my ears lately?”

He settled into a chair in the loft. There was a sweeping view of the valley behind him, but he wouldn’t stop looking at her.

She went to the east windows, admiring the view, recalling raking and sweeping out the barn, cleaning out the shop, all the work on this place … and all the snow, Lord have mercy!She certainly had the energy back then.

“So,” she ventured, “what are we going to do? I mean, how do we tell the world I’m alive again?”

He put on a very typical deep-in-thought expression. “Well, we could borrow from Mark Twain and say the reports of your death were greatly exaggerated.”

She smiled, enjoying the smell of the mocha beneath her nose. “I suppose.”

He smiled back and sipped from his coffee. “I’m making a list.”

“I still have a coat I borrowed from a nurse in the Behavioral Health Unit. We need to put that on the list, get that back to her.”

“That’ll be the easy part.”

Okay. She felt better. “Oh, and I’ve been meaning to say”—he waited, clearly enjoying the sight of her—“it sure means a lot to me that you didn’t fall for a younger woman.”

She could see the twinkle in his eye before he said it. “And go through menopause all over again?”

She could have given him a slick comeback, but something caught her eye …

A girl running through the pasture toward the house, staggering, falling, getting up again, reaching desperately.

“What is it?” he asked, but then he froze at the sight of her just as she remained transfixed by the sight out the window. “Ohhh, man. Déjà vu. You see her, don’t you?”

It was … well, of course. It was the girl who’d been looking inthe mirror, the child who so desperately wanted to be her. “Oh, keep running, little one. Keep running.”

Dane stood beside her, put his arm around her. “Don’t you worry. She’s going to be just fine.”

The image in the pasture dissolved like a wisp of steam, and then it was just the two of them.

a note from the author

Of course I’ve been asked, “What’s the book about?” and it’s never been quite enough to answer, “A love story about two illusionists who are separated by death but not really, not yet, and their quest to find each other and be reunited.” That’s a nice encapsulation, but it doesn’t express the heart of the story.

A better answer would be found in the symbolism and thematic elements:

• Being lost in this weird and sinful world, trying to discover who we are and where we belong;