Falling Out Of The Fairy Ring

I heard the waves crashing on the shore. All of my admittedly abysmal survival training has told me to go toward water. Civilization was always on the water. Breaking through the tree line didn't bring me to civilization; it brought me to him. On a beach, getting ready to row out to his sailboat anchored out in the bay.

"Jesus," Ian had looked up to see what racket was coming out of the woods. He dropped the ore and rushed over to me. "Bindi, what in God's name...we've been looking for you for months! Where have you been?"

I had my arms wrapped around myself as I stood there shaking. I didn't remember being gone that long, only a couple of hours at most. But when I went into the woods to write, the leaves had been green and the sun had been warm. When I came out, the north wind blew frozen air in from Canada, and most of the trees were bare already.

I couldn't answer him, not simply because I didn't have the answers, but my teeth were chattering so hard I was afraid if I moved my tongue I'd bite it in half.

"Come to the boat. Let's get you someplace warm." He slung his coat around my shoulders and guided me to the rowboat. His face was blank, but I knew him well enough to see through to the questions and the worry he tried to hide.

He helped me onto the platform on the back and tied up the dingy before opening the door for me and ushering me down the stairs and into the belly of his sailboat. Once inside, he gave me a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt to replace my soaked through summer clothing, as well as a blanket.

"Sit." Ian ordered me to the table before turning and ladling me a bowl of chicken soup that he had simmering in a pot over the range.

"You left the stove on while you were out?" I asked, trying for humor to lighten the mood.

"I wasn't out long. I thought I had seen smoke, so I decided to go check it out."

"I didn't think I'd be gone long either." I breathed. If only to hear myself say it, I'd been gone for months and didn't remember it.

Ian slid the bowl of hot soup across the small table while sitting on the bench seat across from me. "What the hell happened?" He asked sharper this time, his face hardly masking his fury.

I blew the steam off the soup and took a test bite. It was his homemade chicken noodle, no canned Campbell's for Ian. At least that hadn't changed. "I don't know what happened."

Ian's fist hit the table. "Dammit Bindi, what do you mean you don't know what happened?! You were gone for three damn months!"

"I don't remember, OK!" I said just as loudly. Then so soft, it was barely a whisper, "Why can't I remember?"