Chapter 1: Toss Me in the River

Before I died, I told Caleb Monroe, "Just toss me in the river when I’m gone."

I can still picture how I said it—half-laughing, half-serious, like it was just one of my usual wild ideas. The old screen door banged behind me, burnt toast hung in the air, and as I caught Caleb’s eye over his coffee mug, I said, “When I go, just throw me in the river. Don’t make a fuss.”

And I told him—no clothes. I meant it.

I was dead set on that part, wagging a finger at him like a strict teacher, trying to keep things playful. “No shroud, no Sunday best. Just me and the water. That’s all I want.” That was all I wanted. It felt important—like leaving behind all the trappings of this world was the only way I’d ever really be free.

Of course, Caleb couldn’t stand the thought. He wrapped me in a bright, floral quilted jacket and even slipped his family’s heirloom silver bracelet onto my wrist.

I can still see his hands trembling as he buttoned me up, the jacket’s colors too loud for a funeral but just right for me. That bracelet—heavy, cool, and shining—clasped around my wrist like a promise he wasn’t ready to break. Caleb’s stubborn streak—that was always where he was softest.

Five years later, disaster hit—a flood like nothing Maple Heights had ever seen. Out of the river leapt a white wolf in a floral jacket, saving the whole town.

The legend started before the waters even receded. Some folks swore they saw a flash of white fur, others said it was an angel, but everyone remembered the wild splash of that floral jacket, brighter than any storm cloud. In Maple Heights, miracles wear hand-stitched patchwork.

Caleb stood there in his county official’s uniform, face ashen—like the rain had washed all the color out of him.

His badge was crooked, his hair plastered to his forehead by rain. The look on his face—like he’d seen a ghost and was still waiting for it to speak—hit me hard.