Till Life Do Us Part Read online

  Laura Drake

  Till Life Do Us Part

  Copyright © 2022 by Laura Drake

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  First edition

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  Contents

  Acknowledgement

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Laura Drake

  Acknowledgement

  Thank you to everyone who helped make this book what it is today and for sticking with me as I attempted my first stand-alone novel. From my family to my friends to my beta readers and critique partners, I owe so much to those who’ve supported me.

  Especially my sister, Emily, in whose house I happened to be staying at when I had the dream that inspired this book. None of this would’ve happened without you(r house.)

  Chapter 1

  A sharp pain split my skull. I gasped and put a gloved hand to my forehead, leaning against the snowy ground with my other for support. Icy cold raced up my palm, and I stared at my tingling, bare hand.

  Where the devil was I, and why was I out in the freezing cold?

  Shaking off my confusion, I flipped my braid over my shoulder and forced myself to my feet, tightening my slate-colored scarf and absently noting how it matched my lone glove. I turned in a slow circle, taking in my unfamiliar surroundings in dusk’s gray light. Trees towered over the sidewalk, their branches bare from winter’s frozen grasp. Underneath them passed a handful of strangers, some crossing the wide snowy streets, though none acknowledged me.

  A little girl bumped into me, her crimson cap going askew. “Sorry,” she mumbled. Her caramel-colored eyes, partially hidden under a mop of curly hair, met mine. That moment was all it took for me to read the fear in her expression. She glanced behind her, and, instinctively, I did too, though the street was empty.

  “Are you okay?” I lightly rested a hand on her shoulder, but at her flinch, I removed it almost as quickly.

  “I’ve gotta go,” she said in a small voice. “You should go home too.”

  “Wait, I—”

  She dodged around me, her steps quick and purposeful.

  “Be careful,” I called after her helplessly. My gaze caught on the hint of a black design on her wrist before she ducked around a corner and disappeared from view.

  Her eyes haunted me, and I stared after her as loneliness surged through me.

  I was forgetting something. Something important. A shiver coursed through me, and the cold crept further in. My head throbbed again, and I winced and pressed my palms against it. When the pain subsided, I continued aimlessly down the street under the skeletal branches of leafless maples, following the direction the little girl had disappeared.

  As I turned a corner, a couple of houses stood out—recognizable from my childhood. As I exhaled in relief, my breath misted in front of me. I wasn’t lost, just in a part of my parent’s neighborhood I didn’t know as well.

  A teenage boy wearing shorts and a T-shirt sat on his front porch, staring sullenly at the street. Suddenly, a chilling gust of wind slammed into me, pulling at the wind chimes behind the boy and sending their eerie notes into the air. I tugged my peacoat closer and tried to keep my teeth from chattering, but the boy didn’t react to the wind or the cold. He just kept glowering down at the street. A small object sparkled briefly as he flipped it over the back of his hand, then it disappeared between his fingers again.

  Something was wrong—that thing I was forgetting. As my pulse began to race, I quickened my pace to match. I just needed to get to my parents. Then everything would be fine.

  I turned down the last street. Mom and Dad’s house waited in the distance. I grit my teeth and pressed forward, but a backward glance revealed the streetlamps casting my shadow diagonally over my shoulder. Stalking me.

  It looked wrong. So very wrong.

  My stomach lurched, but I forced my attention back to my childhood home. The sooner I got home, the better. The front porch light beckoned me forward with promises of safety, and I quickened my pace, my well-worn hiking boots pounding on the ground. I darted up the steps and ran inside without knocking, slamming the door behind me and resting my hands on my knees.

  I was safe.

  I straightened, and my gaze wandered over the peach-colored walls, untidily stacked bookshelves, and family photos decorating the entry hall. Each piece offered warmth that helped fight off the chill from outside.

  My older sister rounded the corner, probably summoned by the sound of the door. Another part of me relaxed as I took in her familiar features—the face of my best friend and as familiar as my own. Her long chestnut hair, the same shade as mine, was pulled into a messy ponytail.

  She came to an abrupt halt and gaped at me. “Melody?”

  “Hey, I …” I took in her wide-eyed expression and bit the inside of my cheek, not wanting to freak her out more than she already seemed to be.

  She stepped forward and pulled me into a hug, holding on just a little too firmly. “You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered into my shoulder.

  “Why not?” I asked, trying not to sound affronted.

  A beat of silence that was much too long passed while my sister continued to hold me.

  “I can leave,” I offered halfheartedly, though going back outside was the last thing I wanted to do.

  “I’m sorry. Of course, I’m glad to see you, just not here.” She finally pulled away, her eyes filled with tears.

  “What do you mean—” I tried to say her name, but my voice caught in my throat. I didn’t remember. How could I have forgotten my own sister’s name? My vision tunneled, and my breath strangled in my lungs.

  “Who is it, Elayna?” Mom called from the other room, a hint of alarm in her tone.

  Elayna.

  I held back a sigh as the knowledge settled into place, and the tightness in my chest relaxed.

  “It’s … Mel.” She reached for my hand and gave me a tremulous smile.

  “Melody?” That time it was Dad, his too-loud voice making me wince.

  “I’m bringing her back now.” Elayna wiped her eyes. She opened her mouth as if to speak, then shook her head and pulled me down the hall, not letting go of my hand.

  Despite my misgivings, I followed Elayna to the living room, passing a grandfather clock in the corner and an old sewing machine against the wall. Everything was so normal. And yet …

  My head throbbed again. That must’ve been the reason for my forgetfulness. “Do you see anything here? Like a bruise or a cut?” I tilted my head to the side and held my hair out of the way.

  “No, there’s nothing there because—”

  Before I’d even made it into the living room, Mom rushed over and hugged me, enveloping me in her comforting cherry scent. “Oh, my sweet girl.”

  A wave of nostalgia hit me, and I sagged against her, resting my head on top of hers. Tears welled in my eyes, though I wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like I never saw my parents. I hurried to wipe them away.

  “I thought you had to be invited in.” Elayna’s low voice demanded an explanation from Dad.

  I stiffened in Mom’s embrace.

  “This is her home too.” His low tenor came in an equally soft tone, then he wrapped his arms around me and Mom. “I’ve missed you, Ducky.” His silvery beard tickled my face.

  The old nickname fit with comforting familiarity.

  Though I could’ve stayed wrapped in Dad’s hug forever, protected from the world and his little girl no matter how old I got, I needed answers. I pulled away from them.

  Even as Dad’s smile made the wrinkles around his eyes deepen, he still seemed sad.

  “Sorry, I forgot to bring my invitation.” I didn’t bother to hide my sarcastic tone as I sank onto the old navy-and-cream couch, crammed next to the baby grand in the corner. Elayna flushed as she and Mom sat on either side of me. “Should I have called first?” No matter how many years passed since I’d lived here, I’d never felt the need to ask before coming over. Until now.

  “Nonsense, dear. You know you’re always welcome. We just weren’t expecting you … so soon.” Mom patted my knee and exchanged a strange look with Dad. What was with them? Was I really not welcome?

  “I didn’t mean I didn’t want you here,” Elayna said. “I was just surprised.”

  Maybe something had happened. That would explain why they were acting so strange. I pulled an embroidered pi
llow to me and traced the design with one finger, lingering over the fourth embroidered flower. Hadn’t there been only three before? I shrugged it off and peered up. There were too many questions. It was difficult to know where to start. Maybe with an easier one. “So, where is everyone?”

  “Everyone?” Dad shook his head and returned to his recliner, which his bright shirt and dark suspenders clashed with. “No one else is coming.”

  “They better not be,” Elayna muttered, rubbing a hand down her leggings.

  “Oh.” That felt wrong. But why? Unease flitted across my shoulders, raising the hairs along the nape of my neck.

  Dad turned to me. “Remember when you broke the grandfather clock, Melody?” He chuckled, but the sound fell flat, and his green eyes shone with worry.

  “And it took weeks to replace the glass at the bottom.” Elayna fiddled with the sleeve of her hoodie, the gesture betraying her tension despite her casual tone.

  “Um, sure,” I mumbled.

  But I didn’t remember. Not at all.

  “That wasn’t as bad as when you two decided you’d run away to live in the park because you wanted to be a forest fairy.” Mom patted my leg and shook her head ruefully. “You were missing for hours.” But she anxiously pulled on a lock of her gray hair.

  I gave her a strained smile. Though a hundred questions sat poised on the tip of my tongue, begging to be asked, suddenly, none of them were as pressing as my memory loss. But how could I tell my family I didn’t remember anything?

  “She was furious when she found us.” Elayna’s eyes were the spitting image of Dad’s, even down to the distress reflected in them.

  A pit opened in my stomach, and my head pounded again. Why couldn’t I remember anything?

  I made a noncommittal noise and skimmed through my memories. Or tried to.

  Most of my life was … blank.

  Terror shot through me, and I leaned forward, lowering my head between my knees. I pressed one hand against my chest, but it was so hard to breathe.

  What was wrong with me? Did I have amnesia? Maybe that was why everyone was watching me like they were waiting for me to remember something important.

  Elayna dropped to her knees in front of me, taking my hands between hers. “Dad,” she pleaded.

  “We can’t yet, E. You know that.”

  His pained voice made my heart twinge, and I closed my eyes to block out Dad’s bright red shirt and regretful eyes, which brought back thoughts of the little girl. Her frightened expression teased me behind closed lids.

  I massaged my temples. That girl reminded me of someone else I’d seen recently—someone who’d been in danger—but who?

  My body pulsed with a strange resonance. The tips of my fingers sparkled with a peculiar blue light, and my vision dimmed.

  Snowflakes drift lazily in the air in front of me as I stare at the valley below, focusing on the way the light trickles through the pine trees and reflects blindingly off the fresh blanket of white. It’s perfect, but I can’t muster the motivation to capture the moment.

  Because my sister isn’t with me.

  The realization returns with a vengeance no matter how hard I try not to think about it. I gaze at the beautiful scenery in front of me until my hands grow icy despite my warm gloves—a gift from Elayna that matches my slate scarf.

  Eventually, I have to move again to keep from freezing. During the descent, I catch up to a family and watch their two little girls chase each other through the snow while the mother tells them to be more careful. The gesture is so similar to Elayna I can barely stand to watch. The youngest girl flashes me a smile, her blue eyes brimming with laughter.

  As the path narrows, she tries to run by me but slips on a patch of ice and pitches forward over the edge.

  “No!” the mom cries.

  Instinctively, I lunge forward, skidding on the ice, but managing to grab her arm. I yank the little girl back onto the trail, but the momentum pulls me off the path into a painful roll down the mountain. As I fall head over feet, the scenery blurs, and the thorny branches of a bush snatch one of my gloves. I smack into something. The impact sends pain resonating through my skull.

  I glanced around in a panic, my heart racing. “What was that?” One hand reached for the back of my head, where the echo of pain still rang. The other held something sharp that dug into my palm.

  Opening my fist revealed a small, opaque gem about the size of an egg. It pulsed with an azure glow as if a miniature star burned in the center casting light from its sparkling surface. In one moment it appeared as light and brilliant as a cloudless summer sky, and the next almost shadowed. Despite its icy appearance, it was warm to the touch.

  “What happened?” I tore my gaze from the strange object to stare at my family, who hovered around me, their expressions a mix of relief and worry.

  “Everything is going to be okay.” Mom reached up and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear.

  “It’s not going to be okay. I think I fell down a mountain and have amnesia. I can’t remember anything! And what is this thing?” I held the small fragment toward my family.

  The three of them exchanged another look.

  Dad nodded and turned to me. “That’s a memory shard,” he said gently.

  “Memory shard?” I studied the glowing jewel. The brilliant light had faded to just a glimmer, like moonlight peeking behind the clouds.

  “Yeah, everyone gets their first shard when they remember …” Elayna stopped and fidgeted with her sleeve again, studying my expression.

  “Remember what?” The ominous way she trailed off made me return my attention to my older sister. When she didn’t answer, my stomach lurched. “Remember what, Elayna?”

  She took my hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “How they died.”

  Chapter 2

  “I can’t be dead.” My voice grew shrill.

  “Criminitly, Elayna.” Mom gave her a sharp look, then turned back to me. “Don’t listen to your sister. You didn’t die. You’ve transitioned to the In-Between—a place between life and death.”

  A lump formed in my throat. “No, I—that can’t be true.”

  “It is.” Elayna’s tone was gentle but firm.

  “It isn’t.”

  “Then tell me something you remember.” Her piercing stare made me fidget.

  “Well, I …” The blanks in my memory were still there. “I went hiking recently. Snow covered the trails and …” Remembering the little girl who’d almost died, I fell silent.

  Elayna smiled softly, the expression tinged with nostalgia. She’d been my hiking buddy. “Anything else?”

  Desperately, I repeated what I could remember about myself

  I’m twenty-eight years old.

  I have an older sister, a mom, and a dad.

  I like hiking and …

  Was that it? And how did I know my age? But considering how little I knew about myself, I wouldn’t complain.

  My head felt weird and disconnected, like it was full of memories but generic ones that didn’t belong to me. Memories of walking barefoot in the grass. Memories of sleeping on a hard cot while camping. Memories of swimming in a cool lake. But they told me nothing about who I was.

  I held a hand to my pounding heart.

  My heart!

  “How can I be dead if I have a heartbeat?” I pressed my palm more firmly against my chest, willing my heart to continue its reassuring movement. “And if I was dead, why was I cold outside?”

  “That’s a typical phenomenon for every new soul.” Dad gestured to the thing in my hand. “Until you gain your first memory shard, your mind is in denial and uses familiar details to fill in the blanks. So even though you can’t actually get cold, your mind said you were, because that’s what you were accustomed to. It was probably cold when you transitioned.”

  I remembered the snow on the mountain and pressed my lips together.

  “Even after you accept being here, a lot of your body’s reactions will be the same,” Dad continued. “But you can’t die.”

  Each word constricted like an iron band around my heart.

  “You’re wrong.” I stumbled toward the door. I would show them that things were fine. If I could just get outside and prove that the snow and everything else wasn’t all in my head …