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not immediately jumping into accepting that I’m some sort of mythical super-being when I have a difficult time making sure I eat lunch and that the mortgage is paid on time.”
    Shaking my head, I smiled ruefully. “And now, after all of this time, I’m supposed to accept at face value that this is all real?  I want to believe you. God! I do.” I nearly choked on the emotion that threatened to overwhelm me. “God knows that I could use a miracle in my life to make things suck less, but I write fiction. I don’t live it. I think it’s time for me to go,” I finished quietly.
    “Grace, didn’t you hear anything I’ve just said?”
    “Yeah sure,” I answered. “You’re Diana. You don’t have babies often. You’re my Mom and you need me to be some kind of hero. Blah blah – protection and abandoned me to shitty parents.” I nodded as I ticked off the points in my head. “Yep that sounds about right.” Standing too quickly, I nearly fell back down. Whatever she’d done to knock me out was making me a little woozy. She held out her hand and I took it to steady myself.
    “Diana, I have a little boy who expects me to pick him up in the morning from his bestest pal’s house so that we can make an I-Hop run for blueberry pancakes. I have an agent who is harassing me about getting my edits in so my publisher can sell my latest book which should keep me afloat long enough to get the next book written. That is my life. This -” I waved my hand around, “this is fantasy.”
    “What can I do to prove to you that this is real?”
    I shrugged. “I don’t know. It sounds like the plot out of one of the sci-fi novels that I read. Part of me is really considering checking myself into Cedar Springs for a mental eval. The part that soaks up that kind of thing really does want to believe you, but Diana...Mom... whatever you are, I have responsibilities and a life to rebuild. This is just too much.”
    I strode purposefully toward the door, thinking that I was making a clean escape when I heard her mutter behind me.
    “I should have known you’d be a stubborn jackass about this.”
    “I heard that!” I called over my shoulder, as my fingers wrapped around the handle.
    A sharp edge on the knob caught the fleshy part of my palm, drawing blood. I gasped, swore and brought my hand up to my mouth sucking on the cut. It was just my bloody luck, quite literally, these days.

Chapter 3
     
     
    Daylight burned my retinas and I blinked a few times in surprise.  My legs crossed the threshold into the clearing where my Rogue was parked.  Finally, a break!
    I pulled the keys out of my hoodie pocket and folded myself into the driver's seat, locking the door behind me as if it would keep me safe from whatever that had been.  I took a shaky breath as the silence closed in around me.
    It's funny how trying to make sense of illogical events just makes them murkier.  The details of that room were already starting to fade from my memory.  The harder I tried to recall the color of the couch, the harder it became.
    I suppose it would have been easy for me to just accept everything Diana had said as the truth, but that's not me.  Skepticism is my bread and butter.  Things that seem too good to be true generally are.  I may write Happily-Ever-Afters for a living, but actually believing in them was an entirely different matter.
    I hadn't lied to her.  Lord knows I would have given almost anything to belong to something greater than myself.  When Dylan was born, it had given me a purpose I hadn't realized existed.  The focus on raising him became the most important thing in my life.  Before he came along, I'd only had my writing.  Book sales didn't make me rich, but I lived comfortably.  Now those two things were all I really had in this world.  Upsetting the balance was a scary consideration that I wanted nothing to do with.
    The choice between continuing to the cabin and heading back home seemed pretty easy now.  As I