William appeared to adjust to his new reality fairly quickly. Although he still couldn’t remember anything from his past, he accepted that he had been someone before his accident—that a past existed. He even told James about Saint Peter Hospital, and how hearing me talk to my dad was responsible for his visions. James told him that knowing the source of the visions didn’t make them any less of a miracle. I whole-heartedly agreed.

Weeks went by after the hospital visit, and we didn’t find any more clues to William’s past. Eric was convinced William Cole wasn’t his real name. He’d been unable to find any records that matched. But without any hints as to what his name might have been, it was difficult to know where to look.

William seemed amused by Eric’s quest to find his real identity. He answered Eric’s questions as best he could with his typical nonchalance. I wondered why William didn’t seem concerned over whether or not we discovered who he’d been. When asked, he simply shrugged and said if there was something he needed to remember, he would. But he was happy now—happy with me—and that was what really mattered.

But beneath his serene exterior, I sensed restlessness. Perhaps he was coping with all the new information, re-framing his self-concept in light of what we now knew. Or maybe he was beginning to remember things. I wasn’t sure. But I didn’t ask—not yet. I knew he’d tell me what was on his mind when he was ready.

Saturday morning, I woke early, alone in my bed. The sheets were still warm from where William had been sleeping. He often woke at odd times, so I wasn’t alarmed. I listened and heard faint sounds coming from the other room. His hushed voice, talking to Edgar.

Rolling over, I took a deep breath and stretched. Then got up and went in search of William.

I found him behind his easel, shirtless in his paint-splattered sweats. Just like I had after the first night I’d spent with him in his apartment.

“Morning,” I said.

He twitched, blinking at me as if I’d started him. “Hi.”

“Is everything okay?”

His eyes went back to his painting and he rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. “Yeah, fine.”

“What are you working on?”

“It’s nothing.” He fidgeted with his palette and rubbed his forehead again.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I came closer. “You seem really jumpy.”

He looked at me with his brow furrowed. His eyes darted between me and his painting.

“What is it?” I asked.

Stepping back, he watched me with a mix of resignation and worry. It reminded me of the first time I saw his apartment, when he’d been so concerned about how I’d react to his paintings.

I moved to where I could see what he was working on. It was the brick building covered in ivy.

“You’re painting this again?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Why?” I asked. “You already painted it.”

“I can’t get it out of my head.”

“You keep seeing it?” I asked. “Do you mean when you’re dreaming? Or when you’re awake?”

“Awake. This one has always been different. I don’t know how to explain it. It feels different.” He put a hand to his chest. “In here. I don’t know why, but I know it means something.”

I studied the painting, looking for anything that might be familiar. I knew I hadn’t described a building like this when I was visiting my dad. William couldn’t have heard me talk about it. This had to have come from somewhere else.

“Maybe it’s just my name,” I said. “You remembered my name when you woke up. Maybe this is a representation of that. You kept hearing Ivy, and your mind came up with this picture. Ivy often grows on buildings like this.”

He shook his head. “No. I know I was wrong about things before, but I’m telling you, this is important. And I need to figure out why.”

I glanced at the other canvases leaning against the wall nearby. “What are those?”

His worried brow-furrow came back. “Nothing.”

“You really won’t show me?”

He sighed and turned them around. Moved them one by one so I could see. They were all the same, every one. All the same brick building, ivy trailing up the façade.

“I can’t get it out of my head,” he said again.

“Okay,” I said, looking him in the eyes. “It means something. Let me help you figure it out. I’ll start looking online to see if I can find a building like this. Maybe if we find out where this is, it will make more sense.”

His relief was palpable. He put down his brush and palette and pulled me in for a hug. “Thank you,” he whispered against my hair.

* * *

My eyes were dry and gritty, and every brick building was beginning to look the same. I’d spent hours searching, looking at photos, trying to find one that matched the building William kept painting. His building was odd in that it appeared to be the front, but there was no door. If there were windows, they were obscured by the ivy. The rest of the scene was always hazy and indistinct, not offering any additional clues as to where it might be. Were there more buildings nearby? Was it on a hill, or near a street? Neither of us had any idea.

I’d found a large brick structure in Connecticut that was similar, but William was sure it wasn’t the one. It had a wide double door, although ivy covered the windows. He was convinced his painting was accurate—that the building looked just like he’d seen it, the door obscured.

Needing a break from the endless stream of ivy-covered brick, I opened my email. I had a message from Eric. My heart started pounding as soon as I read it. There was a link to a website and the words, I think I found him.

My hand trembled as I clicked on the link. It was a site for a hunting and fishing guide service in Alaska, operated by a man named Jack Morton. The About Us page included profiles of several guides, but I didn’t see anything connected to William. What was Eric talking about?

I went to the photo gallery and my heart nearly stopped. On the first page a pair of intense blue eyes looked back at me. A picture of William.

His beard was thicker than he kept it now, and he was dressed in a dark brown coat and knit hat. He had that enigmatic half-smile I knew so well. There was no doubt it was him.

The caption simply said, Hunting guide Will Green.

Clicking through the pages of photos, I found more. William and another man crouched behind the body of a large elk. Standing in front of a river, holding a silver fish. Holding a bow and arrow, the bowstring drawn back. Looking back at the camera, a large ax in his hands.

Most of them just had the name Will Green beneath them. But finally, I found a photo with a longer caption.

Will Green has been a hunting and fishing guide since he was eighteen years old. His sharp natural instincts combined with years of mentoring and practical experience make him an ideal choice for your next trip. Will is known throughout the region for his excellent tracking skills and remarkable stealth.

I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm my racing heart.

“William?” I called out into the other room.

He peeked through the door. “Did you find something?”

“Not the building,” I said. “But I think Eric might have found you.”

“What?” He stepped into the room and looked at my screen.

“He sent me this.”

I moved so he could take my seat and waited while he clicked through the website, looking at the photos. He stared at the screen, his face unreadable.

“It looks like me,” he said, his voice soft.

“It is you,” I said. “Unless you have a twin named Will.”

He laughed softly.

“How would you feel about me calling them?” I asked.

He met my eyes and his mouth hooked in a little smile. “You want to make sure he lets my wife and kids know I’m alive?”

“That’s not funny,” I said.

He stood and kissed my forehead. “It’s a little funny.” He kissed me again. “I don’t mind if you call. I think it’s better if it’s you. It’s hard to talk to someone who might know me when I don’t remember them.”

“Okay.”

William touched the side of my face and kissed me, soft and slow. “I’ll take Edgar for a walk.”

I nodded. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

He left, closing the door behind him.

I got the phone number from the website and called.

A man’s voice answered, “Backcountry Guide Service.”

“Hi, can I speak with Jack, please?”

“You’re talking to him.”

“My name is Ivy Nichols and I’m calling about a man named Will,” I said. “I think you know him as Will Green.”

“Yeah, what about him?” he asked.

“Well, this is going to sound odd, but I think the man I know as William might be him,” I said. “Only, he was in an accident and lost his memory. I’m just trying to connect the dots to see if I can find out who he was and where he came from.”

“No shit,” he said. “Yeah, I know Will. Known him most of his life. Is he okay?”

“Other than his memory, he’s fine,” I said.

“That’s good to hear,” he said. “What sort of accident?”

“Well, we haven’t figured out the details, but he was picked up by the Coast Guard,” I said. “He was in the water, but we’re not sure how he got there. They brought him in and he was taken to a hospital. He was there for a while before he woke up.”

“And he doesn’t remember anything before that?” he asked.

“Actually, his memory begins even later,” I said. “He doesn’t remember the hospital at all, although he was there for months.”

“Jesus,” he said.

A wave of nervousness hit me. I was so afraid of what I’d discover. “Does he have any family?”

“No,” he said. “His dad was out of the picture and his mom died in a plane crash a couple years back—small plane, had trouble with the landing. She didn’t have any other kids, and Will didn’t have any other relatives that I’m aware of.”

“Was there… anyone else in his life?” Please say no.

“Nah, Will was kind of a loner,” he said. “Nice guy, everyone liked him. Always had a few girls chasing after him, but he never seemed serious about any of them. Liked his space, I think. But he was always kind of an odd kid.”

Oh thank god. Relief washed over me. No wife or kids. “So, he worked for you as a hunting guide? Is that right?”

“He was one of the best,” he said. “Good instincts. He could track anything.”

“Somehow he wound up in Washington,” I said. “Do you know anything about that? Did he tell you he was leaving?”

“Yeah, he did,” he said. “It was out of the blue, but that was Will for you. Said he was heading south for a while.”

“Did he say why?”

“Not specifically. He just said he felt like it was something he needed to do. That was like Will, though. I wasn’t surprised he needed to get out in the world a little bit. See some things. Maybe some of those things he was always painting.”

“He painted when he lived there?”

“Yeah, talented guy,” he said. “Painted some beautiful stuff. He gave one to my wife the year before he left. It’s the view from our porch. So, you say he lost his memory? Completely?”

“Most of it,” I said. “Although he seems to know his name, or at least his first name. He told the hospital staff that his name is William. But he said William Cole, not William Green.”

“Did he? That’s interesting.”

“Why? Does Cole mean something?” I asked.

“That was his mother’s maiden name,” he said. “Suzanna Cole. His father was Phillip Green. What a bastard he was.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. He put up a good front so none of us knew what was really going on in that house,” he said. “But he was hard on Suzanna and Will. Hit the both of them a fair bit, I think. First Suzanna, but they always hid it. I think he started in on Will when he tried to get the piece of shit to stop hitting his mom. Sorry, pardon the language.”

“Oh my god, that’s terrible,” I said. “You said his dad wasn’t in the picture. What happened?”

“Will got big enough to fight back,” he said. “He must have been fourteen or fifteen. Rearranged his dad’s face, then kicked his ass out. Suzanna and Will stayed with us for a little while after that. We helped Suzanna get a restraining order filed. Divorce went through later. Phillip left town and he’s never been back.”

“Wow,” I said. “This is… I don’t even know what to say.”

“Will loved his mom,” he said. “Took good care of her after they got rid of his dad. He got pretty reclusive after she died. Even more than before.”

My heart broke for William. I knew what it was like to lose a parent. But I’d known my dad’s death was coming. He’d been sick for a long time. William had lost his mom suddenly. That must have been a terrible thing to live through.

Maybe that was part of why he couldn’t remember. He didn’t want to.

“That sounds like him,” I said. “He’s a good man.”

“That he is,” he said. “You’re sure he’s all right?”

“Yeah, he is,” I said. “He’s living in the Seattle area now. He works as a model. I guess that’s a far cry from a hunting guide.”

Jack laughed. “I always teased him about having a pretty face. Do you mind if I ask about you? Are you a friend of his, or…”

“I’m his girlfriend.”

“Good for Will,” he said. “He needed to settle down with a good woman. It’s a shame about his memory, but I’m glad to hear he found you.”

“Me too.”

“Anytime you two want to come up here, just give me a call,” he said. “I’ve been checking on his cabin from time to time, so it’s in good shape. Or you’d be welcome to stay with us. We have room.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I appreciate that. I’ll let him know.”

“Who knows, maybe seeing where he grew up might help,” he said.

“It might,” I said. “Thank you so much. This was really helpful.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. “Tell Will I said hello.”

“I will.”

I ended the call and set my phone down. The picture of William—of Will Green—smiled back at me from my computer screen.

William was still out, so I replied to Eric’s message, filling him in on what Jack had told me. He replied, letting me know he had a lead on how William ended up in the water. He’d call me as soon as he knew for sure.

I clicked through the photos again. There was a question nagging at me in the back of my mind. Something I’d almost asked Jack, but hadn’t. It was probably crazy, but I decided I ought to find out. I dialed his number again and called.