Chapter 91

Chapter Ninety-One

Dreams troubled Connor that night. He was on the river again, but Toshiko wasn’t at the prow. Her paddle was gone, as was the picnic basket. All that told him she’d been there before was her shirt and bathing suit.

He plucked them up, noting the flecks of grass and her scent on them. And his own.

It was so real, like a hijacked memory.

The sun raced to the horizon, dragging the last of the daylight away in a muted kaleidoscope lit by lightning. Thunderclaps shook the dark leaves of the tall trees hugging the riverbank. Even after the thunder quieted, soft scraping lingered.

Sweat cooled on his back and arms, turning the heat of the day cold.

Was it real? Had he come across a memory long forgotten? Even the tea that she’d served—warm and sweet—was there when he licked his lips.

Wind-tossed raindrops rippled the dark water, which reflected the stars.

Then the canoe shuddered, as if something huge had bumped against it.