Stranger in the Mirror [Shades of Heaven] (Soul Change Novel) (39 page)

“It doesn’t look too bad.” Her smile widened. She was Maxine now. Could she dare to hope this was real? With no wheelchair in sight, that meant—had to mean—she could walk. Shep returned with the glass of water, huffing and puffing next to her.

“Couldn’t find a darned cup anywhere to save my life. Or yours.”

She took a drink and handed it back to him. “Thanks. I think I feel better now.” That was an understatement. She turned to Sam. “Could you help me up, please?”

“You should stay put until the ambulance comes.”

“No, I’m fine.”

Sam just stared at her for a moment, expelling a short breath. Finally he extended a hand, and she grasped it, holding on for a second before pulling herself up. She had a whole new chance, a whole new body. Through Maxine, Jennie could now be the kind of woman Sam might fall in love with. She let her feet hold her weight for the first time in years. Her legs wavered, and she reached for Sam’s strong shoulders. He steadied her with his hands, fingers tight around her waist.

“Did you hurt your legs?” he asked.

“No. I’m just a little…weak, that’s all.”

Even though this body was used to walking, her mind wasn’t accustomed to issuing those kinds of commands. She concentrated. Such a simple action, something she used to take for granted a long time ago. How did you walk? One foot in front of the other. Her legs wobbled, and she held tight to Sam as they walked inside the office.

“Shep, why don’t you wait out front for the ambulance?” Sam asked.

“Is she going to be all right?”

Sam looked at her, lifting an appraising eyebrow. “As all right as she’s ever been, I suspect.”

Now what did that mean? Did he know? Could he somehow tell she was really in this body? No, he would have been celebrating this blessed event of walking with her. He would have looked at her in that familiar, warm way.

Shep set the glass of water on her desk and left to watch for the ambulance. Jennie made her slow way to the flowery couch Sam hated, the one his ex-wife had put in when she’d apparently used Sam’s office as her first decorating assignment. He went into his office to put back the mirror he’d brought out for her. Romeo ambled cautiously over, his nose wiggling.

“Romeo!” She leaned down to rub her cheek against his head, but her head started spinning at the movement. Gripping the edge of the couch, she held her hand out to him instead. “Romeo, what’s the matter?” Whoops. She knew what the matter was. He didn’t know her.

Sam snapped his fingers as he reentered the front area. “Romeo, go to your pillow.” Romeo gave one more glance to Jennie, then swaggered over and dropped down on his pillow with a dog sigh, watching her.

Sam crouched down in front of her. “Maxine, did someone hit you out there? Mug you?” he asked, crouching “You said nothing was missing in your purse.”

“No, I don’t think so. I was just being paranoid, I guess.” Well, she didn’t think she’d been mugged. “I…fell. Tripped or something.” She tried to laugh it off, but Sam’s expression was serious.

He stood and tilted her head back, his finger gently tracing the skin around her cut. “This didn’t just happen. The blood around the cut is too dry. I’d say it happened about half an hour ago.” His eyes met hers. “Try to remember what happened just before you came here to see me.”

She didn’t want him to think she’d lost her memory, but it was going to be hard to bluff through this one. Then she had a sobering realization. Whatever had happened to Maxine had killed her. Whether accidental or not, this gash had probably proved fatal. She decided to tell him the truth, or as close as possible.

“I’m not sure, to be honest with you. I can’t remember what happened in the last hour.”

“What about before that? Do you know who you are? Maybe there’s something wrong with your legs.”

“No, there’s nothing wrong with my legs.” She couldn’t keep the smile away at that statement, but she tried to downplay it. After all, she’d bounded up the steps three at a time earlier, or at least Maxine had. Bounded up the stairs. What a wonderful thought! Her legs had to work pretty good for that. She lifted each leg, flexing her foot to demonstrate their ability. “See, they work just fine. And I know who I am. I’m Maxine Lizbon, and I’m thirty years old.” She recited her address, the one from the license.

Sam gave her a wry grin, jumpstarting her heart all over again. “You must have hit your head hard; I’ve never heard you tell anyone your age.”

“Huh?”

“But you don’t remember how you got that gash?” he continued. “That’s a serious injury.”

“No. I can remember everything up until that point.”

Sam tilted his head. “Why did you come to see me?”

Uh, except for that. She swallowed. “I-I don’t know. Maybe it has something to do with this.” She pointed to her forehead.

“In here,” Shep’s voice said. Two paramedics followed him into the office.

“I’m fine, really,” she said.

The woman said, “Let us be the judge of that, okay?” She was short and stocky, and looked like she meant business.

Jennie tilted her head back and lifted her bangs.

“Yow,” the woman said. “We’d better take you in.”

“No,” Jennie said, almost too quickly. She had an illogical fear that the doctors would see right through her, call her an imposter or body thief. “Can’t you just stitch me up here?” At the doubt in their faces, she crossed her arms and added, “I’m not going to the hospital.”

“Don’t be difficult,” Sam said. “I know you’re really good at it, but not now. Maxine, are you listening to me?”

Jennie realized he was talking to her and not the paramedic. “It’s not that bad. I hate hospitals.” She’d spent enough time in one after her accident.

“We can’t stitch you up. All we can do is apply a butterfly stitch, which is more like a band-aid. Real stitches will close the wound much better, leave less of a scar.”

“No hospitals. Just do what you can do here.”

Sam shook his head, rolling his eyes upward. “You’re just asking for trouble, woman.” To the paramedic, he said, “Can’t you forcibly take her to the hospital?”

“No, afraid not. All we can do is make her sign a release so if something happens, we’re not liable.” She turned back to Jennie. “Okay, we’ll apply the butterfly, but if you have any dizziness or fainting spells, you must go to the hospital right away. Head injuries are serious business.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jennie said solemnly.

After running a battery of tests, including looking deep into her eyes with their flashlight, the woman said, “I don’t see any signs of concussion, but I really wish you’d let us take you in.” When Jennie shook her head, the woman shrugged. “All right, it’s your head. We’ve got to cleanse it first.” The man with her handed her cleansing solution. When the woman pushed Maxine’s hair back, she blinked. “That’s strange.”

“What?” both Jennie and Sam asked at the same time.

“I’d swear it looks better already. Like it’s healing unnaturally fast.”

Jennie smiled. “See, told you it’s not that bad.”

Jennie closed her eyes. Sam winced as he watched them do their ministrations on her head, which was why Jennie decided she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Her fingers dug into the fabric of the sofa as the cleanser stung.

She focused her thoughts on her old life. She could tell Sam the truth, but would he believe her? He already seemed to think she was wacky, and her actions thus far hadn’t done much to dispel that. Sam wasn’t into the stuff that defied reason, like ghosts and UFO’s. If she told him she was Jennie’s soul come back in another body, she might lose him forever. That thought made her fingers curl over the arms of the sofa. She felt Sam’s hand cover hers.

“It’ll be over soon.”

Jennie smiled. She couldn’t risk losing Sam, not now. Even if he did believe her, he’d probably still look at her as the old Jennie anyway. Just because she looked different didn’t mean his feelings would change. Besides, the old Jennie was dull. She had no life, no excitement. No, it was time to let Jennie die. As Maxine, she would be exciting, sexy, everything Sam wanted in a woman. They would start fresh, the two of them. She would make Sam fall in love with her this time, and nothing would get in the way of that.

“You’re all set,” the woman’s voice said.

“You bet I am.” Jennie’s eyes popped open. “I mean, I feel better already. Thank you.”

The paramedic shone the flashlight in her eyes again, and Jennie willed her pupils to dilate properly. “Well, you look just fine. Okay remember, any dizziness or fainting—”

“I’ll go to the hospital right away,” Jennie promised.

“And I would make an appointment with your doctor as soon as possible, as a precaution.”

Jennie signed the release, with Sam shaking his head the whole time, and the medical team left. She was alone with Sam again. She’d been alone with Sam many times, but it felt different this time. The office was overly warm, and she pulled off her expensive London Fog coat and laid it on the couch.

“The heating and cooling system in this old building never did work right,” he said, looking out at the snow flurries clinging to the window.

“Roasting in the winter, freezing in the summer.”

He turned to look at her. “How did you know that?”

“I mean, I can tell. It’s way too warm in here. The other part was a guess.”

“Oh.” He nodded slowly. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay. I’ll live.”

He looked so good, wearing his faded blue jeans and white cotton shirt. He’d cut the other sleeve off so they’d match, and the muscles in his arms ripples as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

“Do you remember anything more about the accident? Or why you came here?”

She shook her head, immediately regretting the action when Sam and the entire room swayed like a rolling ship. She gripped the arm of the couch again, subtly so he wouldn’t notice.

“Are you all right?” he asked, noticing anyway. Of course, he would. That’s what he did.

She forced a smile. “I’m fine.” To prove it, she was going to walk to her desk and get the glass of water Shep had left there.

“What are you doing?” he asked when she braced the arm of the couch to get up.

“I want to stand for a minute.” Oh, to feel the floor beneath her feet—the hard, flatness of it. She had left her cream pumps by the door, so her feet were bare but for stockings. Her toes wiggled. Slowly, she pushed herself upward, feeling all those wondrous muscles in her legs group for action. Lifting her arms out for balance, she straightened and stood there for a moment. Sam wouldn’t understand the sheer joy at simply standing, but she could hardly hide it. This was all a precious gift beyond comprehension.

“Are you sure your balance is all right?” he asked, coming closer.

“Oh yes, I’m sure.”

She eyed the water a good five feet away. She could do this. Her legs worked; it was her mind having a hard time accepting the simple motion. She took one step, then another, like a newborn learning to walk for the first time. Her legs started to wobble. Was there any way she could ask Sam to teach her to walk without sounding crazy? No, especially in light of her history of bounding the stairs three at a time. She took another step.

“I’m dizzy, that’s all,” she said, not lying entirely.

At each movement, the dull ache in her head thrummed louder.

Sam walked casually closer, arms at the ready. She had an errant thought about pretending to fall so he’d wrap those arms around her again but nixed it. Then her legs really gave way. She grabbed for the desk, but he got to her first. She wanted to melt against him, but he steered her back to the couch and deposited her there.

“Just as stubborn as ever,” he muttered as he helped her lower herself to the couch. Kneeling in front of her, he lifted one of her legs and started running his fingers over it. Chills scurried down the length of her leg, an exquisite feeling all around. This seemed terribly forward of Sam, who was usually quite laid back and not the touchy-feely kind.

“Does this hurt?” he was saying as he pressed harder around her ankle.

“No.” She watched his fingers circle her calf, thinking how erotic something so innocent could be. Even through clothing.

“How about this?”

“Nope. Er, exactly what are you doing?”

“I’m wondering if there’s something wrong with your legs, and you’re too damned stubborn to admit it. How about this?”

He was at her knee now, rubbing over the bony cap. A strange warmth spread through her when his fingers rubbed behind her knee.

“Maxine?”

“Mm? Oh. No, no pain there.”

He went higher still, edging that warmth to more specific areas. What was going on with her body? Maxine’s body? No one had ever touched her so intimately before. Tingling sensations traveled from the tips of his fingers to her most private area. She wriggled, embarrassed at feeling such a thing. Embarrassed, but intrigued, too. Mid-thigh, he glanced up at her. How could he look so entirely innocent and intent when she was going crazy inside?

“How about here?”

“No,” she said, drawing out the word. “Sam?” He went higher, pressing his fingers into her thigh. The tingling increased, making her fidget even more. Yes, she wanted to get closer to him, but this was a little fast. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. “Sam.”

“What? Stop moving around. What about here?” His fingers prodded at the ridge between her upper thigh and her crotch.

She jerked so hard, that her bottom slipped off the couch, and she landed on the floor.

He put his hands on his thighs, still kneeling in front of her. “What is your problem?”

“I, well…don’t you think you’re getting a little fresh?”

He rolled his eyes in that familiar way he had for all his loony clients. “Maxine, don’t you think it’s a bit late to be modest now?”

“What do you mean?”

“Hell, woman, we were married for five years.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

I hope you enjoyed my book! Jaime Rush is a pseudonym for Tina Wainscott, and as Tina, I am the bestselling author of eighteen novels for St. Martin’s Press and Harlequin. My books garnered several awards, including The Golden Heart (Romance Writer’s of America) and the Maggie (Georgia Romance Writers) as well as Top Pick reviews from
RT Book Reviews
. In 2009, I moved to Harper Collins and began a new career as Jaime Rush.