Tess cocked an eyebrow. "That could present a bit of a problem." "Why?" She let go of the chair and moved toward him, noticing
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the way his eyes flinched at her every step. Directly in front of him, she stopped. "I'm not your loving wife."
He snorted. "No shit."
She laughed. "No, I don't mean I'm not loving; I'm mean I'm not your wife. She died."
He blanched. "You remember that?"
"Death isn't one of those things that escapes your notice. It makes an ... impact. Anyway, she died, and here I am. Get it?"
He leaned back against the dry sink. "I should be so lucky."
"No, it's true. I'm?"
"Yeah, and I'm the King of England."
Tess sighed heavily. She searched his gaze, probed the guarded green depths for a hint of open-mindedness.
It was a useless effort. She could tell that he wouldn't believe. There was no room in Jack's ideology for the reality of soul swapping. "Okay, Jack, have it your way. I'm Amarylis back from the dead. But I'll tell you right now: I'm not the same woman I was before."
The guarded, wary look crept back into his eyes. "What do you mean?"
"Well, obviously I didn't really die; I mean, here I am. What I meant was I've ... changed. Like one of those improved toothpastes. Something new's been added."
He looked at her as if she were a science experiment gone horribly awry. "And what would that be?"
She shrugged. "I guess we'll find out together. Won't it be fun?"
"Fun? Fun? You expect us to have fun?"
"You make it sound like I asked you to jump off the Brooklyn Bridge."
He backed away from her. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about."
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She winced. "Yeah, mentioning the bridge was a mistake. I think?"
He surged toward her and grabbed her. His strong fingers bit deep in the fleshy part of her arms. "Have all the goddamn fun you want, but don't drag me into it. Got it?"
Tess glared up at him. Enough was enough, damn it. In the past week she'd been hit by a bus, given birth, and died. She was trying to make the best of this life, but nothing?nothing?said she had to let this man yell at her.
She wrenched out of his arms. "It's about time to set some rules, Jack."
He drew back. "Huh?"
"Good comeback. Now, are you going to hit me?"
Surprise registered in his eyes. "Now?"
"Ever."
"I've never hit a woman."
She eyed him suspiciously. "Are you trying to be evasive?"
"No. Goddamn it, you know I'm not going to hit you."
She stepped closer, staring dead into his eyes. "Then
quit trying to scare me. It won't work. I'm doing my best
to help out this family, and damn it, I expect you to put
forth a little effort, too. Okay?"
He stared at her, too stunned to reply. "Okay?" she repeated.
His mouth opened?no doubt for a stinging retort?then snapped shut with a click of teeth. Anger crawled in a red wash up his throat. "I'm leaving."
He pivoted away from her and surged through the open door, slamming it shut behind him.
Tess sighed and crossed her arms, staring hard at the closed door. That hadn't gone too well.
Suddenly this lifetime stretched out before her like an endless, waterless desert. If she didn't do something, she'd
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spend sixty years fighting with Jack. Just the thought was enough to make a calm, levelheaded scientist go mad. She should have picked the spaceman.
Katie stared up the hill at the schoolhouse. The clapboard wooden structure sat alone amidst a stand of just-greening trees. Kids ran back and forth in front of the woodpile in a game of tag. High-pitched giggles peppered the air. A few horses?owned by families who could afford to let their kids ride to school?stood tied along the three-slatted wooden fence that bordered the yard.
Katie slowed down. Her fingers curled in a death grip on the wire handle of her lard tin. The cold metal bit into her sweaty palm.
"It's all right, Katie," Savannah whispered. "They won't laugh at you."
They both knew it was a lie; knew they would laugh at her.
Katie bit down hard on her lower lip to keep it from trembling. Tears stung her eyes as she stumbled along beside her sister.
It don't matter what those dumb old kids think anyway.
But it did matter. It mattered more than anything.
She clung to Savannah's hand and kept moving, trying to be grown-up, trying not to be afraid.
If only she weren't so stupid. Then everything would be okay. The kids wouldn't laugh at her. Her mama would love her. The teacher?
"Are you ready to go in?"
Savannah's voice cut through Katie's thoughts. She yanked her head up and found that they were almost there. Anxiety spilled through her blood like ice water.
She turned to her sister. "I don't feel so good, Vannah. Maybe I should go home."
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Savannah dropped to her knees and touched her sister's cheek. "Aw, Katie ..."
She flung herself into her sister's arms. Savannah hugged her tightly, stroking her hair and mumbling soft, soothing words of love. Savannah drew back and looked up at her. Katie did her very best not to cry. Tears burned behind her eyes and blurred her vision, but not one slipped past her lashes. It was a trick all the Raffertys had learned. "I-I'm fine." She rubbed her sweaty palms on the nubby wool of her skirt and clutched her strapped-up school-books to her chest.
Savannah got slowly to her feet. Hand in hand they climbed the creaking steps and opened the schoolhouse door. The tired whine of the hinges drew every eye. A dozen small heads cocked in their direction. Shivering, Katie drew back.
Savannah laid a comforting hand on her shoulder and held her in place. "I'm right here," she murmured soothingly.
Katie made a beeline for her desk. The small, sturdy heels of her heavy leather walking boots clicked loudly on the planked floor. With each footfall, the rising cadence of giggling nipped at her self-confidence. She moved faster, her schoolbooks bolted to her chest, her gaze nailed to the wood beneath her feet.
She sidled into the steel-backed chair with an audible sigh. Savannah eased in beside her. The comforting warmth of her sister's body gave Katie the courage to set her things on the desk in front of her. With trembling fingers, she unstrapped her books and pulled McGuffey's First Eclectic Reader out from beneath her math primer. The small brown book nearly disappeared into the scarred wood of the desk.
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Katie wished fervently that it would really and truly disappear.
In the front of the room, Miss Ames rapped sharply on her desk and stood up. "Let's begin by reading aloud."
Katie squeezed her eyes shut. In her lap, her fingers crossed tightly, then curled into fists. Please don't pick me. Please don't?
"Susan Jacobs, why don't you begin? Page nine of the
reader."
Katie's breath expelled in a sharp sigh of relief. She opened her eyes slowly and turned to page nine. She stared hard at the paper, trying to read along with Susan.
It was impossible. The black ink swirled and danced and changed positions. Letters were meaningless, melting together to form words that weren't words. Sentences that were pure gibberish. Not a single word that Susan read appeared on Katie's page.
Tears burned her eyes. What was wrong with her? She tried so hard?harder than anyone else in the class. Every night she hurried to her room right after supper and studied the mishmash of letters in her primer. Every night she failed, and miserably, to make sense of even one word.
"Thank you, Susan, that was very good. Now, how about you, Mary Katherine? Will you pick up where Susan left off?"
Katie's head snapped up. A wordless, aching "no" slipped past her lips.
Miss Ames leaned slightly forward, waiti
ng. Every student turned to look at Katie.
She felt Savannah's hand on her bent elbow and knew her sister was trying to comfort her. But it wasn't working; not now. She was too cold to feel even the meager warmth of Savannah's touch.
She swallowed thickly and forced her gaze downward.
The yellowed pages blurred before her eyes. She blinked rapidly, swiped the moisture from her eyes.
You can do it this time. You can.
She stared hard at the first word: h-T-e.
Panic sucked at her, made her heartbeat thud in her ears. h-T-e m-n-a h-a-s a n-e-p.
She mouthed the first word, but knew before the effort that it was no word at all. She tried again, focusing on each letter.
Kids started whispering. The sound of laughter penetrated her concentration. She knew it was probably all in her imagination?Savannah had told her that a dozen times?but she could never make herself believe it. The giggling sounded so real. So close.
She jerked her head up and stared wildly around. Countless eyes stared back at her. Sally Burman's skinny lips were curved in a triumphant smile.
Katie lurched unsteadily to her feet and whirled away from the wobbly desk. Tears of shame and frustration coursed down her face and burrowed into her mouth. They felt warm and wet and salty. Like failure. "Katie!"
She ignored her sister's call and ran as fast as she could. Blasting through the door, she hurtled down the creaking steps and kept running.
Savannah scooped up the books strewn across her desk and stood up. "I'll go get her, Miss Ames."
"Me, too!"
Before Savannah could respond, Jeffie Peters was standing beside her.
She looked at him. He looked at her. A confusing rush of emotions hurtled through Savannah, sparking a flood of heat across her cheeks.
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"Y-Yuh want me t' carry them books for yah?" he stammered.
Savannah felt every eye in the room on her. Mumbling, "No thanks," she clutched the books to her chest and ran for the door. Barreling through, she thundered down the sagging steps and came to a shuddering, breathless stop by the fence. The books slid out of her hands and hit the dirt.
Behind her, the door banged shut again. "Hey, Savannah?wait up!"
She wanted to run away and find a nice quiet place to be alone, but her feet wouldn't move.
"Why'dya run like that?" Jeffie said, coming up beside
her.
Savannah pinned her gaze on the water pump. It took a wagonload of willpower not to twist her fingers together, but she remained perfectly still, her chin tilted high, her eyes straight ahead. "I was worried about Katie." "Yep. Seems she ain't the best reader." "No," she said stiffly, "she ain't." Savannah waited uneasily for him to say something else. He waited for the same thing. Then, in a rush of awkwardness, they both dropped to their knees and dove for the fallen books.
Their fingers brushed. Savannah jerked her hand back and buried it in her lap. Jeffie turned to look at her.
They were close, closer than they'd ever been. Savannah could see the smattering of freckles across his brow. Intelligent, caring brown eyes stared intently into her own. He leaned infinitesimally forward, as if he were about to say something.
Fear made her heart race. She warned herself to sit perfectly still. But then?somehow?she was leaning just the tiniest bit toward him.
"Savannah, I ..." His gaze slid away from hers. Color
crept up from his collar and fanned along his jawline. "I . . ."
She was suddenly afraid of what he was going to say. Of what she was going to feel when he said it. She snatched the books to her chest and vaulted to her feet.
She started to spin away from him, but her feet tangled in the heavy woolen folds of her skirt and she stumbled sideways. Jeffie was on his feet in an instant, holding her elbow, steadying her.
"Thanks." She pulled away from him without meeting his gaze. "I gotta go now. My ma?"
"C'n I walk yah home?"
For one terrifying moment Savannah thought she was going to throw up. Shaking her head "no," she clutched her books to her chest and whirled away from him, running down the hill as fast as she could.
She was out of breath and had a stitch in her side by the time she reached Katie, who was sitting forlornly beside the road. Still breathing hard, she came up beside her baby sister and dropped to her knees in the hard-packed dirt. The books and lunch pail landed beside her with a clanking thud.
"There's somethin' wrong with me," Katie said in a small, quavering voice. "I'm stupid."
Anguish coiled around Savannah's heart and squeezed hard. "No, you ain't," she managed past the lump in her throat.
Katie plopped her trembling chin onto her bent knees and squeezed her eyes shut. Tears slipped past her thick black lashes and streaked down the puffy little-girl pinkness of her cheeks.
Savannah felt a surge of frustration and anger. Her hands curled into fists as she stared at the immense blue sky above. She wished she could tell Mama about Katie's problem, but there was no point. Mama would only laugh
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and confirm Katie's fears that she was stupid. Savannah didn't believe for a second that her mama had changed.
Daddy would help. The thought came as it always did, quickly, bringing with it a heartbeat of hope.
Then, just as quickly, it was gone, plunging Savannah back into the pit of hopelessness. Once, she'd almost told him. She'd been close, so close, at Katie's birthday party. Katie had been laughing about something?all three of them had, she remembered?and Savannah had looked across the table at her father and seen something almost magical in his eyes.
She'd thought then it was love. Her heart had skipped a beat. Anticipation and hope brought her awkwardly to her feet and drew her toward him. She'd said his name, softly. He'd looked up, met her gaze. The truth about Katie had hung on her lips, heavy and waiting. The truth about so many things ...
Suddenly the laughter ended, leaving in its wake a silence thick enough to make Savannah sick to her stomach.
He'd lurched to his feet and spun away from them, thundering across the kitchen and disappearing into the yard. Savannah had waited hours for his return, until finally, exhausted, she'd fallen asleep on the sofa.
She'd wakened in her own bed. The moment's connection with her father had been gone, leaving her to wonder if she'd imagined it. That had been about five months ago, when Katie's problem first became noticeable.
Savannah had never even been close to telling anyone again.
"Come on, Katie, let's go home," she said tiredly.
Katie looked at her. Tears magnified her eyes. "I don't want to," she whispered.
Savannah clasped her sister's small, cold hand. "I know. Neither do I."
They sat there all through the long, hot spring day, waiting
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in heavy silence for the pealing clang of the school bell that indicated it was time to leave.
"It's time," Savannah said quietly as the last metallic clang faded away.
Katie nodded, dashing the moisture from her eyes. Together, hand in hand, they got to their feet and started walking toward home. The grass-studded dirt road stretched out before them, seeming to twist beyond forever in the miles between the farm and school. Neither of them wanted to continue, but they did.
It was simple. They had nowhere else to go.
Tess stood in front of the stove, staring at the huge black metal monstrosity with a mixture of dread and anticipation. She tried to tell herself this was a challenge, and she'd always loved a good challenge. Somehow this time it didn't work. There was no doubt in her mind that cooking was not one of the things she would be good at in this?or any other?life. In 1993 she hadn't had to worry about it. Between the takeout joints, delicatessens, restaurants, and frozen-food sections of her local grocery store, there'd been no reason to cook, but now, in 1873, she had no choice. She wanted to lift some of the burden from Savannah
's shoulders, and she wanted to be a mother. Cooking achieved both her goals. And so, cook she would. She'd given herself plenty of time. It was just after midday. The girls wouldn't be home from school for hours. All she had to do was start.
She kneeled and stared through the heavy, soot-stained grate. Thin, twisted, black remains jutted from a pile of cold, gray ashes. The acrid scent of a long-dead fire seeped through the iron bars and stung her eyes.
Using two fingers, she started to ease the door open.
She realized her mistake immediately. The door
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weighed a ton. It crashed downward, whacked hard on her bent knees, and knocked her off balance. With a stuttered cry, she flailed forward and smacked her head against the warming oven.
When she woke up, she was sprawled on the kitchen floor with her blue gingham gown up around her middle.
She took one look at herself and burst out laughing. Ten seconds in the kitchen and she'd already knocked herself unconscious.
Rubbing the goose-egg-sized bump that was forming above her left eye, she got to her knees and stared into the cold dead ashes. A sinking feeling tugged at her empty stomach. Ignoring it, she got to her feet and stood confidently in front of the stove. She tried her best to feel cheflike.
It was like trying to squeeze into a size four with the saleslady watching.
"Okay," she said aloud, "I'm going to cook dinner." She paused, thinking. "The first thing to do is make a fire."
She smiled, feeling better already. Yes, that seemed like a sensible plan of attack for someone hell-bent on cooking a meal. Make a fire.
There was a small, neatly piled stack of kindling alongside the stove. She opened the grate door and propped it open with her knee. Then, leaning sideways, she grabbed a few sticks and dropped them in the steel hole.
A quick search of the kitchen revealed no paper. So she set the kitchen towel on fire and dropped it on the pile of wood.