Chapter 1The General's Abandoned Wife

The day the army came for my husband, the road into Crow’s Hollow was choked with olive-drab tactical vehicles and elite soldiers who looked like they’d been carved from stone.

When they called him Major General Hawthorne, Grant didn’t flinch. It was as if he’d been expecting this all along. But when it came time to decide who was leaving with them, he took our son’s hand and cast an apologetic glance my way.

“I’ll take Ryan back with me first. I’ll send for you later.” He paused, his gaze shifting slightly. “As for Lydia… my mother has taken a real liking to her, so I…”

He trailed off, waiting for my response. But I didn’t need one. I already knew who was sitting in the back of that military SUV. I knew his ghost was already in the passenger seat.

In the years since I’d found Grant, broken and nameless, he’d often complained that I didn’t understand him. His ideals, his sense of duty to a country he couldn’t remember—it was all a world away from me. Yet, when I’d place a plate of the freshest garden greens or the most tender pieces of chicken from the stewpot in front of him, he would nod reluctantly, put down the pen he was always scribbling with, and mutter about the mosquitoes in the house or the mud Ryan had tracked across the floor.

I would just nod, my silence a placid lake over a chasm of knowing. He never realized that I could read. I saw the letters he wrote, the ones addressed to “My Dearest.”

The name on those letters wasn't mine. It was Lydia’s.

So when he spoke, all I did was give him a simple, clean nod and turn to hoist the foraging basket onto my back.

“Who you take with you is your decision, Grant.” My voice was flat. “I’m heading up the mountain to hunt for morels. We can talk later.”

* * *

The neighborhood kids had come tearing up to our porch with the news while Grant was teaching our son, Ryan, how to practice his cursive script. Ryan’s pen had stuttered, leaving a dark blot of ink blooming on the paper.

Grant’s focus hadn’t wavered. “Ryan,” he’d said, his voice calm and steady. “What have I taught you? Penmanship is discipline. A quiet hand comes from a quiet mind.”

I knew then what was coming. Grant was about to be reunited with his family. He was going home.

Even after his family had gone, leaving us to the sudden quiet, Grant remained impossibly composed. This was the man the Hawthornes had poured everything into shaping—their eldest son. Even with his memory gone, after years of languishing in this forgotten mountain town, the polish of his upbringing, the command in his bearing, had never dulled.

And I, somehow, was even calmer than he was.

Just like any other day, I went up the mountain.

Martha, from down the road, saw me and couldn’t resist a little jab. “Audrey! You’re about to be a general’s wife, living the high life in the city. What are you still doing grubbing around in the woods for mushrooms?”

Grant had told his family he needed a day to pack, that they should come back for him tomorrow. He mentioned he’d be bringing two people with him. The whole town was buzzing, saying my ancestors must have done something truly spectacular to bless me with this kind of luck.

They’d all forgotten. They’d forgotten when Grant first washed up here, his memory wiped clean, useless at any kind of farm work. They’d forgotten that I was the only one willing to care for him, tending to him like a child. He lived in my house, and the whispers started, staining my name until marriage was the only option left. Even then, it was nothing more than a potluck with a few neighbors and store-bought cupcakes to mark the occasion.

After that, for a time, we were happy. He was my husband, mine alone.

Now he was leaving, and by all rights, he should be taking his wife and child with him.

But I knew better.

In my first life, Grant did take two people back to the Hawthorne estate.

I wasn’t one of them.

I just smiled at Martha. “The morels are especially good this season.”

The money from a good haul would be enough. Enough for me to leave this place and find a new life somewhere else.