Chapter 2: The Engagement Gifts

Someone from the Parker family had come to deliver the engagement gifts. Their pickup rattled into the gravel driveway, the boxes tied with bright red bows and the air crackling with excitement—or was it tension?

I sat quietly on the living room couch—my face calm, but my heart a swirl of mixed emotions. For a moment, I wished my mother-in-law would look at me with pride, just once. Maybe she’d say, “Rachel, you’re the daughter I always hoped for.” But all I remembered was her tight-lipped glare. I thought of Christmases long ago, the year I still believed anything was possible, before I learned that hope could turn brittle and sharp.

The familiar chintz cushion beneath me felt rough and strange, like I was sitting in someone else’s skin.

By rights, I should have already died, at the age of thirty-seven. The memories pressed in, thick as Georgia summer humidity, weighing on my chest.

There had been seven days of heavy rain in the county, and my husband, as the county clerk, was so busy he barely had a moment’s rest. The roads flooded, sirens wailing in the distance, and the sound of water pounding the roof like a warning drumbeat.

Distressed by her son’s exhaustion, my mother-in-law insisted on braving the rain to take me up the hill to pray at the church for blessings. Her insistence was ironclad, her sense of tradition as relentless as the storm.

Who could have predicted that halfway there, our car would be caught in a flash flood? The old Ford hydroplaned, the headlights swallowed by rising muddy water.

The muddy torrent, carrying shattered branches and rocks, thundered down from the hills, devouring us like a wild beast. The sound was deafening—a freight train of water, chaos, and fear.

My mother-in-law’s terrified screams somehow turned into my own mother’s gentle call. For a split second, the water faded, and I heard the familiar softness of home.

"Rachel, wake up. Don’t sleep."

It felt like I was dreaming, unable to tell whether I was dead or alive. Somewhere between worlds, suspended in memory and loss.

My eyelashes fluttered as I tried to open my eyes. I could smell the faint trace of Ivory soap and fresh linen, the comfort of childhood safety.

A face both familiar and strange came into focus—my young mother, holding my hand, reluctant to let go. Her fingers warm, her grip steady—like she could anchor me to the present.

"In the blink of an eye, my Rachel has grown so big, already of marrying age."

"Today, the Parker family is coming to deliver the engagement gifts. Don’t sleep—get up and freshen up."

The Parker family, delivering engagement gifts? My mind scrambled to place the moment, caught between disbelief and déjà vu.

The warm washcloth pressed against my face finally woke me up completely. The scent of rosewater and starch lingered, and I realized this was real—this was now.

I couldn’t tell if this was luck or misfortune. Was I meant to fix something, or simply repeat it all?

I was seventeen again. My body felt different, lighter, my heart as uncertain as it had ever been.

Thinking back on my previous life, I couldn’t help but clench the handkerchief in my hand. The fabric twisted tighter with every memory that flashed behind my eyes.

Such a long, wearisome life—must I really live through it all again? The question circled, relentless, as the front door creaked and voices echoed from the porch.