Wrong Face in the Mirror: A Time Travel Romance (Medicine Stick Series) (12 page)

Well, really!
Hart was more amused than angry. What an old witch! How would Sibyl feel if one minute she was Stacia being a part of things with the other kids and the next Hart was looking out of her eyes with different perceptions and personality?

For the first time she began to feel a kind of kinship with th
at other woman. It had been hard enough for her to adjust but for the introverted Hart it must have been a nightmare.

She could even remember a time when she thought this was something everybody experienced. If from the time you were little, you suddenly switched into another person’s life, naturally you just thought that was the way things were.

Before you knew better, you even asked others who they were when they weren’t themselves. Luckily she was just identified as having a wild imagination and by the time it was getting worse, she’d known not to say too much. Still, she knew she’d worried her parents.

Alistair felt sorry for the Californians. They’d come to hear old stories about the people from whom they’d descended and instead they were being told that one of them probably had mental problems.

He wasn’t too surprised at Mayleen Carson. Everybody in town knew she was a gossip who just said whatever came into her head. Mayleenisms were famous among the local residents.

But he’d thought Sibyl Forrester more discreet. Surely she must realize this could be painful for Helen Larkin’s daughter.

“Tell me about my great-grandmother,” Bobbi Lawrence  demanded. “Was she a wild child too?”

“Oh
, Stacia was never wild,” Mayleen protested.

“Not tha
t anybody knew,” Sibyl said tartly, adding quickly. “But Helen Larkin, your great-grandmother, well nobody had anything bad to say about her.”

“
Arlin Johnson followed the family to California to get her to marry him,” Raymond said quietly. “He was one of my students and he fell for her sometime in junior high and there was never anybody else for him.”

Mayleen grinned. “
Arlin was cute even as a boy. If you ask me, Helen was a lucky girl.”

“My father was a wonderful man,” Serena seemed to relax a little. “Unfortunately he died before Bobbi was born so she never knew him.” She patted her granddaughter’s hand.

“We were such a close little community,” Mayleen spoke this time directly to Serena. “Not many of us, but good people, not like you see these days.” She smiled, seeming to drift back in time. “Your granddad was alive then,” she told the sheriff. “A real hunk, if you ask me.”

“Really, Mayleen!” Sibyl protested.

“Well, he was and most of the girls thought so. And you, Hart, your folks didn’t live in Medicine Stick proper, but their ranch was so close we thought of them as part of the town. The Hartleys were among our leading citizens, ran everything, contributed to the school and the church and paving main street. They were big frogs in a small pond all right.”

“Hartley?” Serena turned to Hart.

“She was named for her mother’s family,” Mayleen didn’t wait for Hart to explain.

This was getting
awkward. Alistair reminded himself that he wasn’t here just for entertainment or to further family knowledge. He was trying to solve a long-ago murder. “Did Stacia have any real enemies?” he asked the usual question. “Was there anybody who might have wanted to harm her?”

His questions were met with silence. Raymond shook his head.

“You don’t even know that those bones belonged to Stacia,” Mayleen pointed out. “Sure there were little disagreements. Everybody had those, but nobody in Medicine Stick would have hurt her. Those were good people in our town and she was one of us. Nobody would have killed one of our own. Not on purpose. I can’t even imagine such a thing.”

“It’s been a long time, sheriff,” Sibyl added in a common-sense tone. “After so many years it can’t matter to anybody.”

Selena straightened in her chair. So far she’d done little more than listen attentively, but now she said, “It mattered to my grandmother and her family. They went to their graves wondering what had happened to Stacia. Our family deserves some answers.”

Alistair nodded. “We’ll do our best to find some for you,” he promised.

Hart drove back to the ranch at a speed so slow that several speeding pickup trucks roared around her, betting that they wouldn’t meet another vehicle on the lonely back
road. Seeing that she was proving to be a traffic hazard, she set the cruise control at a reasonable speed and did her best to pay attention to her driving.

It wasn’t easy. The afternoon had been both stimulating and alarming. Listening to the talk of people she remember
ed knowing, hearing herself discussed as from a remote viewpoint, had put her in a strange state of mind.

She felt almost as though she were floating between two bodies, Stacia’s and Hart’s, and she wasn’t sure which one she was.

The evening darkened rapidly and the spray of the car lights ahead of her glistened with blowing dust as the wind increased its speed. This afternoon had been too much and she would be glad to be home.

She barely had time to realize what was happening as a bright dot of light appeared in the corner of her eye and, frantically knowing she must not be in a moving car when she deserted her body, she drove the
Nissan to a stop at the edge of the road and braked to a halt.

Having taken time to stop by his office before heading home, Alistair grew a little anxious when Hart failed to respond to his calls so that he stepped up his speed as he hurried down the narrow road that led the last few miles to the house.

Frowning when he saw her car on the right just ahead, only half out of the road and lights still shining into the wind-swept darkness, he pulled in behind the
Nissan and jumped out to run to the driver’s side of her car.

She was inside, but slumped over the wheel, her dark hair splayed across the side of her face. Her eyes closed, she didn’t look as though she could possibly just have fallen asleep like that. It was more as though she’d just dropped in place, her face contorted in fear.

“Hart! Hart, darling!” he shouted, trying to shake her awake. It was useless, he couldn’t awake her and with the sure instincts of a trained responder he made sure she was breathing, that her pulse was beating, slow but steady.

She was alive and her vitals were strong, but in spite of his continued efforts he could not awaken her. Instead of calling for an ambulance, he decided it would be quicker to take her into the little hospital in Wichita himself.

No signs of trauma, no indication of an accident so he lifted her gently in his arms, placed her in the back seat of the sheriff’s car and with sirens blaring and lights flashing turned back toward the county seat town.

She was given immediate attention in emergency and not just because she was brought in
by the county’s chief law enforcement officer. Business was slow tonight in the little hospital with only an infant with an ear infection crying in one of the rooms. The nurse on duty, the wife of an old friend, examined Hart first and then ordered several tests run.

She didn’t wait for the results, but notified Hart’s family doctor, the woman who
had treated both her and Tommy since they were children, and soon Dr. Gray arrived, looking calm and composed as usual.

Alistair knew he should call Tommy, but decided to wait until there was some news. Hart’s brother tended to become overwrought where his little sister was concerned and he preferred to postpone that encounter.

It was a small community, however, and apparently someone called the Bensons because a couple of hours later the whole family showed up, including two scared looking little girls. Christy, the younger girl who didn’t seem to know he was supposed to be the enemy, ran to hug him while Mandy stood back watching fearfully.

Nikki yanked her daughter from his arms while Tommy demanded loudly, “What have you done to my sister this time?”

“Nobody’s done anything to Hart as far as I can see,” the doctor’s authoritative voice resounded behind them. “And Tommy, for Heaven’s sake, keep your voice down. We do have sick people in this hospital, you know.”

She had been Tommy’s doctor since he was a kid. He stepped back, but Nikki didn’t give an inch. “We want to know what’s wrong with Hart? You can’t blame Tommy for being worried.”

Dr. Gray sank into one of the waiting room chairs. “She’s unconscious and we’re unable to wake her up. I recommend sending her to a larger hospital with more resources.”

“Is Aunt Hart going to die?” They had forgotten the little girls until
Mandy asked her quavering question.

Dr. Gray gazed at the child with open compassion. “We have no reason to think so,
Mandy. In fact I think it might be good if you and your sister went right in and talked to her. She won’t seem to hear you, but we think she might.” She grinned. “Just don’t expect her to answer back for a while yet.”

She waited until the girls left with a nurse, her face sobering. “I think it would be best if Hart was taken to the hospital in Oklahoma City where she was treated before. They’ll be able to compare her condition now with what happened
then.”

This made sense to Alistair. “Arrange it,” he said, “I’ll go with her in the ambulance.”

“Now wait a minute,” Tommy protested.

“He’s her husband, Tommy,” Dr. Gray cut off the argument. “He’s within his legal rights.”

“And I’ve EMT training. In case of an emergency I can help.” He knew it wasn’t routine for a family member to accompany a patient and that he was, in effect, pulling rank by insisting on going with Hart. But he had a strong feeling that he must be with her.

Since she had no mirror to look into, she pulled a strand of hair around so she could see it. As she’d expected, it was a glossy red. She was Stacia once again.

It was amazing that she and Hart had managed these transfers since they were no more than babies without being harmed. She supposed that was mostly because the early visits had only happened in flashes of times varying from a few seconds to a couple of minutes. Only as they’d gotten older had the periods lengthened.

Always feeling more comfortable in her own body, today she still wondered why she was here once again. The way she had it figured, Stacia’s body had died while Hart was within it, so when she went back to the past, it was to enter an endless loop. The past was played out and she only stepped again through events that had already happened.

Hart was gone so she was taking nothing from her by using her unoccupied body. She was also using
a current time the other woman had earned, including an advanced degree in literature that allowed her opportunities she would never have had with her high school diploma and pure love of reading. And, fair or not, the fortune Hart’s grandmother had left was also in her hands.

But then why did she keep coming back here? Was it because she owed something to Hart? Was it her fault that the other woman had died?

She walked the steps in her body, remembering the familiar way to the store where she’d worked since she was a girl. Mrs. Miller greeted her with a smile and said since Stacia was here, she’d go back to see to dinner.

Mr. Miller was waiting on a farmer who was buying seed from the far side of the store where they did such business. No other customers were waiting, so Stacia went automatically to work, straightening and dusting shelves. There was always enough to keep her busy.

The bell on the door rang and she looked up to smile at the entering customer. With her new knowledge of the future, she saw for a second a double image. Against the young couple who had just come in, she saw a man and woman in their late eighties, Sibyl and Raymond Forrester.

They had seemed disapproving of her in that future where she’d only encountered them a little while ago and she found herself uncomfortably aware of their real opinion of her, though they greeted her with their usual reserved friendliness.

“Good afternoon,” Sibyl said, going over to look at the bolts of material. Raymond lingered to visit, “What’s going  on in this big town, Stacia?” he asked.

She raised her eyebrows. “Hey! You know better than me. I’m stuck at home or in the store most of the day.”

“Don’t tell me this store isn’t gossip central,” Raymond teased. “And that you don’t have the hot line to what’s going on.”

She was remember
ing that in spite of his good looks and outgoing manner, she had never been too fond of Raymond Forrester. Anyway, Sibyl was openly jealous of her handsome husband, and could be cutting to any girl who was more than slightly responsive to his friendly overtures.

She smiled politely and turned away, not having to pretend to be busy, and his wife called to him. “Do you think this material will do for my new dress?”

Stacia felt sorry for her. It must be miserable to be married to someone you didn’t trust. But then maybe Sibyl’s opinion of herself was such that she wouldn’t trust any man’s love for her.

Surely she felt different now after all the years they’d had together.

It was apparently her day for reunions because only minutes after the Forresters left without having made a purchase, Mayleen Smith came running into the store, demanding baking powder. “Mama’s making a cake and she needs it right now,” she told Stacia importantly.

Stacia supplied the requested item, put the charge on the Smith family tab, th
en watched Mayleen run out again.

Somehow she’d thought there was some logic to these three showing up this afternoon, but she guessed no
t. She’d certainly not gained any pertinent information from any of them. Just coincidence, she supposed, and not particularly surprising since she saw many of the residents of Medicine Stick on a regular basis while she worked in the store.

As she dusted, she thought of those others mentioned by the old residents. Hart’s relatives, the Hartleys. She knew them to speak to, of course, the old woman and her son and daughters, but they held themselves aloof. The kids had been sent away to fancy private schools, not educated along with the town youngsters. She saw little resemblance to Hart  in any of them.