If anything, right now this world felt like the dream. An early morning in the spring. Sitting here by the river, serenaded by the early morning birdsong. The soft lapping of the river under the dock. The sky lightening, bit by bit, until what had only been a dark smudge was now the silhouettes of trees backlit by the morning light.

A lot of terrible things had happened since her car broke down at the crossroads on Friday night and she’d been pulled into a reality she had never even suspected could exist. Oh, there had been Pappy’s stories, but they were always just stories. They weren’t real like the music. Like sparring with Johnny at the gym. Like making love to Con last night.

But beyond the terrible things, something had opened up inside her, as well. Some great . . . potential for understanding . . . she wasn’t sure what. Just that there was more, but she was still a part of it. Everybody was a part of it, even if they remained blind to its existence.

She didn’t want to lose that.

She didn’t want to forget.

She wanted to build on it.

It wasn’t that she wanted to live in those otherworlds, or become one of the magical beings herself.

She just wanted to retain this open feeling in her head, the realization that anything could happen. That there were possibilities upon possibilities lying just at everybody’s fingertips. People didn’t have to experience them, but there was something at once comforting and worrisome that they might.

And for all the terrible things she’d had to undergo and do, they didn’t hold a candle to the wonder she’d been allowed to experience as well.

To forget that . . .

“Timony,” she said. “Timony Twotot. Can you hear me?”

“Always,” a familiar voice replied from behind her.

She turned around and there he was, sitting on the stairs, the riser he was on bone dry while all the others were still wet.

She smiled. “I don’t know if I’m happy or a little creeped out to know that you’re always just a half step out of my sight.”

“Oh, I’m not,” he said. “Did you think I’ve been watching you, waiting for your call?”

She blushed thinking of what he would have seen in her room last night.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Are you?”

He laughed. “Not hardly. I’ve been back in the Aisling’s Wood, setting things a-right. But I’ve had an ear cocked to hear you if you should call my name. Was there something you needed?”

“No. I just . . . I’m afraid I might forget everything, and I don’t want that to happen. I don’t want to forget you.”

“What makes you think you will?”