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Why do I feel like I know this man?

He stops swinging us and leans back, looking at me with such happiness. My heart starts to hurt that I can’t return his joy. I can’t for the life of me remember who this man is. Have I even met him before? I start racking my brain, but I start to get upset at the emptiness.

“I’m so sorry,” I tell him with sincerity, “but I don’t remember who you are.”

“That’s okay, wee one. You will soon enough. I’m Harold, but you always called me—err, you can call me Happy.” He squeezes my arms one more time before letting me go. “Come on, and let’s get you inside. You both must be starving.”

He greets Riven, and they shake hands and exchange whispers while I look around in awe, but I’m drowning in déjà vu.

Happy motions for us to follow and leads me up the stairs. On instinct, I reach for Riven. His warm hand engulfs mine as we walk up to the porch, stopping in front of the man who is Doc’s doppelgänger. “This one here is your uncle George, but we just call him Grumpy for short.”

I smile at Grumpy’s eye roll and continue to be led inside, but not before he winks at me and then grumbles away. Happy tells me to take a seat, and I gaze around in wonder. I’m sitting in a room of the house that I supposedly grew up in for the first eleven or twelve years of my life. So many emotions are coursing through me, but all I feel is… weird. This place feels comforting, yet I can’t recall ever being here. My déjà vu suddenly feels more like jamais vu, because if what Riven thinks is true, this was my home… once upon a time. But it feels like I’m seeing it for the very first time.

I look down at the table in front of me and am enchanted with the carving in the middle. A rose. My finger traces the stem and petals absently as if I’ve done it a thousand times before. I look up to see everyone watching me.

Blinking away the sadness, I ask, “The rose? It was in my dream. On the door. In the tower.”

My words come out jumbled as I wade through my thoughts, trying to put together the puzzle.

“Yes, dear.” Another man, this one a bit younger than the other two, steps into my line of sight. “The rose was your mother’s family crest or sigil.” He smiles bashfully.

“This is Bernard,” Happy introduces us, and I smile, my heart breaking that I can’t remember these men who obviously loved and raised me. “You always called him Bashful. You nicknamed us all as a child, and, well… the names just kind of stuck,” he goes on to explain.

I nod, and everyone else stays silent as my gaze wanders around the room, over the lovely wooden cupboards. Suddenly, the smell of fresh-baked apple pie consumes me, and a memory claws at me, the image just out of reach but the feeling firmly rooted in my heart.

This was home once.

“Pie. I smell apples baking.” I close my eyes and breathe deeply. “Have I made apple pie here before?” I open my eyes and look around the table. My uncles exchange glances before looking back at me and nodding.

“Yes, apple was always your favorite. Red delicious.” Bashful smiles down at the table. “I made you one today.”

Standing, I walk toward him and throw my arms around his neck. My mind might think he’s a stranger, but my heart knows that he’s not. “Thank you so much, Uncle.”

“Aw, it was nothing. Happy roasted some chicken and vegetables, and Grumpy…”

“Will set the table,” Happy finishes for him, sending Bashful off in search of his brother.

“Let me show you to your room so you can wash up before supper. And then we can all talk.”

Riven stands by my side, and we follow my uncle through a trinket-filled hallway to a small room, the door on the end. The closer we get, the butterflies return. But not just in my belly—my mind too.

When he steps out of the way, I see a child’s painting on the wood. A red rose.

My palm trembles as I place it over the painting. I squeeze my eyes closed, blinking back unshed tears. And then I feel his hand over mine. Riven.

“It’s just a door… a memory. Both can be opened.” I turn to my right and look up into his stormy eyes. “Just be patient with yourself, Princess. You’ve had a long journey. Maybe you should rest.”

I nod before withdrawing my hand, and Riven opens the door for me. When I turn around, I don’t miss the way Happy’s knowing gaze moves from me to Riven and back.

Now I’m the one blushing.

“I didn’t mean to make you sad, Adelaide.” For the first time, his smile falters.

“Oh, no. You didn’t. It’s just overwhelming,” I reason. “In a good way.”

“The washroom is right next door, and we’ve laid out some clean clothes and linens for you by the window seat.”

“Thank you,” I offer.