The sense of loss was gripping Anne's heart. It had been such a wonderful experience and she was shattered that it had ended. She checked her watch. "I was only here for a moment? Only lying here for a minute or so?" It couldn't be. She had spent weeks.
"Less than a minute," the old man assured her with a smile. "I was right over there. I came quickly." He mounted his four-wheeler and started it. "Are you sure you're all right? I need to catch that driver pulling in. You should call in at the house and talk to Ethel."
Ethel? "I'm fine. Thank you," Anne replied, forcing a smile and waving him off.
She returned to her car and sat for a while staring absently at the road ahead. Tears welled. She spun the car around and drove back across the rickety timber bridge and past the sunflowers. The model truck on the roof looked so old, and as she sat across the road in her car, her tears welled again and ran freely down her cheeks. She wasn't sure how long she sat there crying, but eventually there were no more tears, and she pressed her cool hands against her burning eyes and emerged painfully from the car. Even the heated breeze felt cool against her wet face. How could it be over? How could it be just a dream? She'd been there for two weeks living as Patricia Harper, loving her husband and wishing for nothing more than a lifetime of the same.
Her leg had stiffened in the car, and her limp had grown even more pronounced as a result. She ached from hip to knee. It did nothing to distract her from her grief. Nick was gone, dead. Patricia's husband… her husband… gone. She sniffled. A young woman about her age looked at her tear stained face and silently offered a tissue. Anne gave her a watery smile, thankful that she hadn't asked what was wrong. There was no way to explain.
Anne walked around town, looking in windows and touching anything she remembered from her visit in nineteen sixty-eight. The market was all different. It was completely modernised with a new name and in no way resembled the shop where she had bought groceries to feed her husband. There was a shoe store where the butcher had been.
That night, Anne called her brother and her boss to tell them she would be another day there in Hammond. She got a room at the motel and cuddled up alone in bed, aching for the feel of a man. She wedged her clasped hands between her legs and sobbed into the pillow until sleep came. She then willed herself to dream, but nothing came from her tossing and staring at the ceiling throughout the night. Nothing but memories of Nick's hard, muscular body pressing her into the bed, of his arm, heavy with sleep, draped across her middle. Nothing had felt good like being in Nick's arms, and the thought of never touching him again brought fresh tears throughout the night.