Unscheduled Departure (6 page)

I gasped— not from shock, not really— but because she'd put voice to my own thoughts. "But he's here," I protested. "He lives ten minutes from here."

"Maybe . . . " Lindsay looked off over my shoulder, lost in thought.

"What is it?" I asked.

Lindsay's gaze focused on mine and she worked her jaw. I knew that look. It was the same look she had right before she said something about my aura or mentioned her sixth sense. The look that said she knew I didn't totally believe her, but that I would listen.

It was ironic that she wasn't the only one feeling like that lately.

"Tell me," I said.

"I think . . . what if? What if you've found a . . .
portal
of some kind?"

"Portal? Portal to what, exactly?"

Lindsay shrugged. "The spirit realm? Another dimension? I don't know."

My first instinct was to laugh. It spoke to my desperation that I clung to her words, though. I needed to believe there was an answer beyond that I was imagining things.

"You think I'm getting phone calls from Finn's spirit?" I asked, a chill running down my spine. "But . . . I mean, wouldn't he have to be dead for that?"

Lindsay sat back and laced her fingers together— her teaching pose. "You're thinking too linearly," she said, drawing a straight line with her finger in the air. "There is no time on the other side."

"So, you're saying, what? It's Finn's ghost, from the future?" It all sounded so ridiculous. But then again, so did getting voice mails that only I could hear.

"Or perhaps another Finn."

Okay, what?
"Okay, what?"

Lindsay smirked. "It's kind of arrogant to think we're all there is, you know? There are theories of other dimensions, other universes or realities. Some that are very similar to our own. Maybe, somehow, you've been communicating with a Finn in one of those other realities."

I slumped back in my seat. "Come on, you don't really believe that, do you?"

"How else would you explain it?" She raised a brow in challenge and lifted a finger. "You're sure it's Finn on the phone. You don't think Finn— the Finn here and now— is lying about not calling you." She ticked off the items on her fingers. "The Finn on the phone seems to be calling from far away. And apparently only you can hear him." Lindsay leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Face it, Ro. You've opened a portal to another realm or something."

"Through my phone," I said flatly. "I can barely get service in Costco and you're telling me it's getting calls from another dimension?"

Lindsay just shrugged. "Don't make me quote Spock again."

"Sherlock."

"Whatever." She grabbed my hands across the table. "The point is, something is happening to you. And, like it or not, it seems to be something not of this world." She waved her hands wiggling her fingers to emphasize her words, then picked up her pen and tapped it on the list. I knew she was waiting. Waiting for me to respond, to acknowledge what she'd said.

To believe.

I wasn't quite there yet.

"Okay, let's say you're right." At her victorious look, I hurried to add, "Not that I'm saying you are, but hypothetically speaking." I waited until she nodded slightly.

"How would it happen? And why? Am I supposed to, I don't know, do something?"

She frowned. "Like what?"

"I don't know." I threw up my hands and sat back. "But I would assume things like this happen for a reason. And if I've created some kind of portal, couldn't it cause a tear in space-time or something?"

Lindsay snorted. "Now who's quoting Spock?"

"Okay, touché," I said, rolling my eyes. "But you're the one who's so big on destiny and fate and . . . and karma and everything. Shouldn't there be a reason for all of this?"

Lindsay pondered that for a moment. "Yes, I would think so. It would seem Finn— the Finn on the phone— has a message for you. He has to be trying to tell you something."

"Tell me what, though?" I asked, more than a little exasperated. "He hasn't been saying anything significant."

Lindsay visibly deflated. "I don't know."

I reached for the notebook and flipped it around to study the list. "It's all outrageous anyway," I muttered. "Alternate realities and portals." I scanned the page before me.

I forgot it's early there.

We can make it through this.

"There's got to be some other explanation," I said.

The coffee stain - when did he change his shirt?

"Got to be . . . "

He's different. Something's different.

…meetings all morning…

Different

...it's early there.

"Ro?" Lindsay's voice jolted me out of my thoughts.

"What is it?" she asked.

I looked down at the notebook again, the pieces beginning to fit together in a strange, outlandish puzzle.

"These alternate dimensions or whatever," I said slowly. "If people can communicate between them . . ."

"Yeah?"

"Could they actually . . . God, this sounds so crazy." I slumped back and hid my face in my hands.

Lindsay reached across the table to pull my hands away. "Not crazy, Ro. What are you thinking? Tell me."

"Okay." I took a breath and went for broke. "Could someone actually travel between these realities?"

She frowned in concentration for a moment. "I'm no expert, Ro. But . . . yeah. From what I've read, it's theoretically possible with the right focus and if the veil between the realities is thin enough."

I couldn't be bothered with the details. Not when the words on the page before me were swimming, my head spinning.

"What is it, Ro?"

"What if . . ." My words came out as a croak, so I cleared my throat, bracing myself. "What if it's not what Finn's saying on the phone, but just that he's speaking to me at all?"

"What do you mean?"

"Since this started, I've had this feeling that things are . . . off. Wrong. With Finn, I mean."

She nodded slowly.

"What if Finn didn't change his mind about going to Virginia?" I whispered.

Lindsay's eyes widened. "You mean—"

"What if Finn— my Finn— actually went? And he's calling me from there."

I forgot it's still early there.

Meetings all morning.

We'll make it through this.

Love you.

"But if that's true." Lindsay lowered her voice and glanced over her shoulder. I wasn't sure why. There was nobody else nearby. "That means the Finn who's here isn't
your
Finn."

"Could that really happen?" I asked. "Could they switch places somehow, and my Finn is able to reach out to me . . . because I'm supposed to fix it somehow?"

Lindsay looked a little lost. I didn't blame her.

"I don't know, Ro," she said finally. "But I think we have to find out. I’m just not sure how."

I sighed and scanned the list one more time. "I think I might have an idea."

11:47 AM

"Are you sure about this?" Lindsay asked, glancing down the hall nervously.

I slipped my key into Finn's front door. "I have to know," I replied.

"Maybe you should just ask him?"

I froze and bowed my head, bumping it against the door. "Maybe I should," I said quietly. "But if I'm wrong, I can't—I don't want him to know about all of this. And if I'm right . . . "

The thought was overwhelming. What would I do if I was right? I had no idea.

Lindsay pressed a hand to my back. "Okay then, let's go."

We slipped into Finn's apartment and I called out to make sure he was really gone. He'd texted that he was heading over to talk to the dean about readmission, and we'd agreed to meet for lunch afterward. Part of me felt guilty sneaking around in his home. The other part of me —the desperate and terrified part— was pretty sure I didn't have any other option.

"Where do we look?" Lindsay asked, taking in the unpacked boxes and stacks of books on the floor.

"Bedroom first." I led her down the hallway and into the room. It was small, like most student housing, with a full bed in one corner and a dresser crammed in the other, the right side jutting into the closet opening a couple of inches. A small desk and bookshelf took up the rest of the room, with a glass door leading to a small balcony bringing in some natural light. He’d unpacked this room, the empty boxes folded neatly and stacked behind the door.

I headed straight for the closet and flipped on the light. I grabbed the small clothes hamper tucked behind the door and dumped it on the floor.

"What are we looking for?" Lindsay asked as I picked through the dirty laundry.

"White button down," I replied, "with a coffee stain on the sleeve. He has another hamper in the bathroom. Can you check there?"

She nodded and disappeared out the door, only to return a few seconds later. "Only a towel in that one," she said. "Any luck?"

I picked up a blue shirt, and threw it back down. "No, it's not here."

"Maybe he washed it already?" Lindsay suggested, hesitating as she reached for a dresser drawer.

"I'll look in there. You check the closet?"

We went to work, Lindsay holding up a shirt every now and then for me to review. With each moment that passed, my heart sank further into my stomach.

"It's no use," I said, not even bothering to close the bottom drawer. "It's not here."

"What's not here?" a familiar voice said from the doorway.

I turned to see Finn looking at us with a baffled expression, taking in the mess on the floor, the open drawers, and the two women apparently searching his bedroom.

Well, no apparently about it.

"Ro? What are you doing?" he asked.

"Uh—" I looked to Lindsay, but she was just as stunned as I was. "I thought you were meeting with the dean?"

"He had a family emergency and had to reschedule," he said. "Ro, what’s going on here?"

I cleared my throat. "I was, uh, looking for your shirt."

"My shirt? What shirt?"

"The one you were wearing the other morning. The one you spilled coffee on."

He stood there for a moment, gaping, before his gaze cleared and anger replaced the surprise. "You're still going on about that?"

I took a step toward him. "Finn, no. Please listen—"

"To what?" he snapped, stalking to the pile of dirty laundry and stuffing it back into the hamper. "You're going through my dirty laundry, Rowan. You don't think that's a little—"

"Little what? Insane?" I snapped.

"I didn't say that!"

"You didn't have to!"

We glared at each other and Lindsay chose that moment to step forward. "Ro—"

"It's okay," I said, swallowing my nerves. "Could you give us a minute?"

She glanced nervously at Finn. "You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. I'm, uh, going to . . . " She jerked a thumb toward the door. "Call me later?"

I nodded.

She murmured a quiet apology as she passed Finn, but he either didn't hear it, or chose to ignore it. When the front door shut quietly behind her, Finn let out a heavy breath.

"What's going on with you?" he asked, anger dissipating as he sat down on the bed. He lifted a hand, as if to reach out to me, but let it fall back into his lap. "Talk to me."

And in that moment, I knew I had only one option. I had to tell Finn the truth. Because he was Finn. Whether or not he was
my
Finn was irrelevant, because even if he was from some other reality— I still couldn't believe the thought— he had his own Rowan. His own me. We were together, and we loved each other— trusted each other— and I had to honor that, no matter what.

I sat down beside him and turned sideways so I could meet his gaze. "I'm going to tell you something that sounds insane," I said. "But I need you to trust me and I need you to keep an open mind."

His eyes darted back and forth, searching my own, then he picked up my hand, lifted it to his lips, and kissed my finger.

"Tell me," he said.

All in all, it went better than I thought it would. He wasn't convinced— I mean, who would be, besides maybe Lindsay— but he didn't call me crazy, and he didn't try to debunk my theory. He just listened, asked a few questions, frowned when I told him about the other Finn saying he loved me, and held my hand the whole time. Then he sat, staring at the pile of dirty laundry in the middle of the floor, until I was about out of my mind.

"Well?" I asked, when I couldn't stand it anymore.

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"You can say you believe me."

"It's not about believing you, Ro," he said quietly. "It's just a lot to take in. That you don't think I'm . . . me."

"You're you. You're just not—" I got to my feet, an idea starting to form. "Think about it," I said. "Doesn't anything seem strange to you, different since we got back from the airport? Am I different?"

He looked up at me, tension at the corners of his eyes as he studied me. I latched on to that doubt— that curiosity.

"It might be something little, insignificant," I said, falling to my knees before him. "Maybe my hair's a little off, or my voice is weird?"

Finn licked his lips. "You . . . you called me Finnester."

"Yeah? I always do that." My little annoying nick-names for Finn were kind of a tradition. "Don't I?"

"Yeah, yeah, you do," he said, rubbing his hands over his face. "But you'd called me that particular name before— at the house just that morning— you never re-use your names, at least not so close together."

"What?" I sat back on my heels, trying to remember. "Are you sure?" I did try to mix it up, and come up with different variations— just to drive Finn crazy, or make him laugh.

"And your fingernails," he murmured, bringing my hand to his face. "They were pink. Did you take off the polish?" He looked up at me, a growing shock showing in his expression. I knew how he felt.

"No," I whispered. "I haven't worn nail polish in weeks. Months."

Finn stiffened. "No, this is insane. Alternate realities? Other versions of ourselves? That's a sci-fi movie, Ro, not reality." He got up and knelt by the laundry basket to sift through the dirty clothes. "I'll show you the shirt and you'll see that I changed." He tossed clothes aside as he spoke. "I'm me. You're you. Everything is—where is that damn shirt?" He got up and crossed to the closet. "I threw it in here after I changed. It's got to—" Finn stood with his hands on his hips. "Maybe the bathroom."