“Don’t get me started on sisters,” Faith said, then shook her head at Zoë. “I understand why you did what you did, but I’d never have the courage to do something like that.”
“You should have stood up to your mother-in-law while your husband was alive,” Zoë said. “You shouldn’t have let her beat you down until you exploded.” Zoë stopped when Amy’s look reminded her that they weren’t supposed to know how serious Faith’s attack on her mother-in-law had been—or the consequences.
“Yeah, sure I should have,” Faith said, her eyes not meeting Zoë’s. She got up and went to the sink.
Amy looked at Zoë. “Even after all that, you still didn’t find out what happened just before your wreck?”
“No,” Zoë said. “I spent a few days in jail, then had to do some community service, and—”
“In your hometown?” Amy asked.
“No.” All the humor left Zoë’s face. “That’s what the judge wanted, but the mayor refused to have me. I ended up working at an old-age home.”
“I bet you drew for them,” Faith said.
“Sure did. It was better than cleaning bedpans. I took the photos of their grandkids and made portraits. It was through them that I met their rich kids and started my job as an itinerant portrait painter.”
“Destiny,” Amy said, and Zoë groaned. “No, maybe it was your destiny to meet those people and draw their grandchildren, and through them—”
“Yesterday you said that my destiny had been changed and that’s why I was so angry.”
“What do I know?” Amy said. “The only destiny I’m sure about is my own. I was supposed to marry Stephen and have three children. There’s a little girl’s spirit just waiting for me to make a body for her.”
Faith smiled at Amy. “I wish I had your conviction,” she said. “I’ve never been sure about what I was supposed to do.”
“Murder your mother-in-law,” Zoë said quickly, then looked at Amy. “If Stephen is your destiny, then why are you having these fabulous dreams about another man?”
“I don’t know,” Amy said.
“Maybe it’s what Zoë said about past lives.” Both Amy and Zoë looked at Faith in puzzlement. “What if Stephen is your destiny in this life and this Hawthorne is your destiny in a past life?”
“I’m not sure I believe in past lives,” Amy said, but she was thinking about what Faith said.
“I think you should find out as much as you can about this man Hawthorne, and if you have another dream about him, you should do what you can to change his fate,” Faith said.
“But that doesn’t make sense,” Zoë said. “If she changed what happened to the man, would the books change? The print? How is that possible?”
“I don’t know,” Amy said, then put her hand to her face in pain. “If it weren’t for the physical evidence, I’d think I’d made it all up.” She looked from Faith to Zoë and smiled. “I want to thank both of you for not making fun of me. If I’d told anyone else what was happening to me, they’d—”
“Think you’d hurt yourself and send you to therapy,” Zoë said quickly. When Amy and Faith looked at her, she said, “Not that I know about self-mutilation. But, anyway, Amy, I’m glad you’re telling us all this because they’re great stories. I think that today I might add some paint to these pictures of Nathaniel Hawthorne’s English cousin or whoever he is.”
“What about you, Amy?” Faith asked. “Any plans for today?”
The way she said it made Amy know that Faith wanted to do something on her own. But that was good for Amy because she had her own plans. “I didn’t buy those sheets I owe Jeanne,” she said, “so I think I’ll get them. Thank heavens she has good mattress pads on the bed or it would have been soaked last night.”
“If that had happened, Jeanne would ask you so many questions that you’d end up telling her about your dreams,” Zoë said.
“She’s that persuasive?”
“Yes and no. If you work at it, she can be got around,” Zoë said.
“Okay,” Amy said, standing up. “I’m going to go exploring on my own today. I’ll get sheets and…” She shrugged. She knew exactly what she wanted to do, but she wasn’t going to tell them.
Thirty minutes later, Amy was dressed and the bruises on her face were covered as best she could. She’d taken two pain tablets to dull the ache. When she left, Zoë was bent over her sketch pad and Faith was on the Internet. They hardly looked up when Amy said goodbye.
As soon as she was outside, Amy looked again at the card in her hand. Madame Zoya, 333 Everlasting Street. She didn’t remember seeing the street but she was determined to find it. She didn’t want to ask directions from anyone for fear they’d laugh at her for going to the local psychic.
Amy thought she was doing well around Faith and Zoë because she wasn’t letting them see how much the dreams were beginning to upset her. The idea that she was living these dreams to the point where she woke up with signs of them on her body was enough, but there was more than that. They were disturbing her inside, in her mind. The man Hawthorne seemed to mean something to her. Yes, he resembled Stephen, but it went deeper than that. She felt something between them.
She told herself it wasn’t love. Now, in the bright sunshine of a Maine morning, all she could see was Stephen and her love for him and their children. She had no love for any man other than her husband. But when she was in the dreams, it was almost as if she were another person. She could remember Stephen, yes, but he seemed far away. When she was there, when she was looking at the dark man, all she could really see was him.
She hadn’t told the other women, but in the second dream she’d felt a longing for the man that she hadn’t felt since when she’d first met Stephen. A lot of people laughed at Amy when she told them that she’d known since she was a young child that she and Stephen were going to be married and spend their lives together. “How boring,” said a young girl at their church. “If I thought I was only going to meet one man in my life and stay with him forever, I’d shoot myself.” Amy wanted to tell the girl that she had no romance in her soul, but she didn’t.
In all the years she’d been with Stephen, Amy had never felt as though she were missing something. She’d been to bed with one man and she’d never wanted more.
But now that she’d been having these dreams, something was happening to her. Not in her present world, but in his. In his world she could feel herself changing, being pulled to this man who wasn’t her husband.
As she puzzled over what was going on in her life, she walked about the town, and when she saw the sign for Everlasting Street, she went down it. Immediately, she was surrounded by beautiful forest. Turning, she looked back to see the shops and the cars, but the farther she walked, the trees closed in around her.
Abruptly, the road turned right and there was the prettiest Victorian house that Amy had ever seen. It wasn’t overpoweringly large, but every bit of it was exquisite, and the painting was art. It was done in three colors of green, brown, and a neutral taupe. The pretty porch was draped with blooming wisteria and a tall hedge of lilacs ran along the side. Amy could smell the flowers.
The numbers were in shiny brass on the side of the house, and she knew it was the place she’d needed to find. She wanted to talk to a woman who claimed she could rewrite a person’s past. Of course Amy knew that couldn’t true, but she hoped that maybe the woman had talked to enough people that she could answer some of Amy’s questions. Maybe the woman had heard of other people who dreamed as realistically as Amy had.
She stepped onto the porch and noticed how clean and neat it was. She pushed the button for the doorbell and within seconds it was opened by a pleasant-looking little woman. She was short and round and could have posed for a portrait of Mrs. Claus.
“Are you Madame Zoya?” Amy asked.
“No,” she said sweetly, holding the door open. “I’m Primrose, her sister. Do come in. Maybe you’d like some tea.”
As Amy couldn’t resist see
ing the interior of the house, she stepped inside. She was glad to see that there was no hard, uncomfortable Victorian furniture. Instead, it was English country, which she loved so much. In her opinion, John Fowler, the famous English interior designer, should be canonized.
“Beautiful,” she breathed. The walls were covered with fabric, a grayish silk that made the room look rich and comfortable at the same time. Truly beautiful. This room and the one in the bookshop, she thought. That’s what I’d want for my own office.
“I thought you’d like this room,” Primrose said. “It suits you. If you’ll have a seat, I’ll make us some tea.”
“Yes, thank you,” Amy said absently as she went into the living room. She always carried a little notebook with her and she couldn’t help making notes about the colors and patterns of the fabrics. She sat down on the pretty sofa and made a sketch of the layout of the furniture and the placement of the windows.
Just when she’d finished, Primrose returned with a big tray with a pretty porcelain pot, cups, and a plate full of warm cookies. She set it on the coffee table, then took a seat across from Amy on the chintz-covered chair.
“Now, what can I do for you, dear?” Primrose said as she poured the tea.
“I…” Amy wasn’t sure where to begin. “I found a card from your sister, Madame Zoya, and I…” She what? She wasn’t sure what to say.
“You want to go back in time and change your life,” Primrose said knowingly.
“No!” Amy said quickly and much too loudly. “I mean, no, I don’t want to change even one day of my life.”
“Then why were you given a card?”
“Given a card?” Amy said. “Oh no, I wasn’t given your sister’s business card, I found it by accident. It was in a book that I bought at the bookstore.” She tried to remember the name of the store but couldn’t. “The store down the alleyway.”
“I know which one,” Primrose said with a smile. “But, you see, my sister doesn’t allow just anyone to get her cards. They must need them.”
“Need them? I don’t understand. Don’t you need to…” How could she put this delicately? “You need to run a business, don’t you?”
“Oh, I see. Money. You want to know how we support ourselves if we just give out a few cards.” Primrose smiled. “We have money from our father. He provided for us, so we don’t have to worry. But I’m curious. If you were given a card, but you don’t want to change your life, why are you here?”
“I wanted to talk to someone about something odd that’s been happening to me and I thought that maybe a psychic might understand things better than I do.”
“But my sister isn’t a psychic,” Primrose said. “She doesn’t read minds.”
“I’m not asking anyone to read my mind. I just…” Amy hesitated, and when she tried to talk again, there were tears in her eyes and her throat was closing. “I’m sorry. I’ve been through a lot in the last few months and I’m not myself.”
Primrose poured Amy another cup of tea. “Why don’t you tell me everything? Starting from the beginning.”
“You mean, from when I lost the baby?”
“I think that would be a very good place to start.”
It took Amy thirty minutes to tell her whole story. During that time Primrose sipped tea, ate half a dozen chocolate-dipped cookies, and never said a word, but Amy could feel the intensity of her listening.
“And that’s where I am now,” Amy said, putting down her cup. “For the second morning in a row I had to put my sheets through the washer. And look at my face!”
“You can hardly see the bruises,” Primrose said, but she was no longer smiling. “I must say that I’ve never heard a tale like yours. Usually, the people who receive my sister’s cards are like the women you’re staying with. They desperately need to change their lives.”
“But they haven’t received the cards.”
“Yes they have,” Primrose said. “They may not have seen them yet, but they’ve received them. That poor, poor girl. What is her name?”
“Zoë.”
“She had so much taken from her life. And the other one. I saw her after the hairdresser worked on her. She’s so much better now, but she’s still an old woman. Misery wears one down.”
“You seem to know us well,” Amy said.
“Oh yes. Such interesting people stay at Jeanne’s house.”
“Do you know her?”
Primrose smiled. “You want to know if she has received a card.”
“And I thought you couldn’t read minds.”
Primrose laughed, but she didn’t answer the question. “Of course I see all of my sister’s clients, and I must say that they are an unhappy lot. Without exception, they have all had dreadful lives.”
“Their destinies have been misdirected by other people,” Amy said quietly.
Primrose looked as though someone had pinched her. “You are exactly right, dear. The truth is that my sister merely puts their destinies back on track. It’s like a train that’s been derailed. Sometimes the train goes off in a different direction, on a side track, but sometimes it falls onto its side and just lies there in the dirt.”
“That’s Faith and Zoë,” Amy said. “Zoë acts tough but she’s not. She makes her living by staying in other people’s houses and painting portraits. Faith lives alone in an apartment in New York and visits a therapist three times a week. Neither of them have lives.”
“Like you do?”
“Like I do,” Amy said. “Am I strange because I like my life? I wouldn’t trade my husband and children or even my house for any other.”
“Yes, dear, you are a rarity. You are a person who is content with her life. When you speak of your family it’s as though your entire body glows.”
“So why did I receive a card from your sister?”
“I would imagine it’s because of your dreams. I think your destiny in another life was derailed.”
“That’s just what Faith said.”
“Perhaps you should go back and fix it,” Primrose said.
“Go back? You mean as in a hypnotic regression?”
“No. What my sister does is a great deal more than that. She has a gift where she can send people back to any time in their lives for three weeks.”
“Three weeks?” Amy asked as she tried to comprehend this concept. “What could a person do in three weeks?”
“It only takes a small thing to change a person’s life. Say no to a marriage proposal. Say no to getting into a car at a certain time. Or say yes to an opportunity.”
“All right,” Amy said, “say you go back and change something, but then what happens?”
“Why, everything changes, of course.”
Amy blinked a few times. “Changes? You mean your whole life?”
“Of course.”
“How could that be? What if, say, a person had written a book about a trip he took, but the second time around, he didn’t take that trip and so didn’t write the book. What would happen to the copies of that book? And what about people’s memories?”
“Then the book would not exist and no one would remember that it ever had. It can be quite disconcerting that you remember something that no one else does.”
Amy opened and closed her mouth a few times. “But how…?”
“I don’t know,” Primrose said. “Nor does my sister know how it works. It’s a gift she’s had since she was eighteen. Something…well, rather unusual happened to her and since then she’s been able to send people back to the past.”
“Why hasn’t the world heard of this?” Amy asked softly.
“We’re careful that people at large do not hear. And…Well, my sister can change the past.”
“Oh!” Amy said. “You mean that if someone told the secret your sister could go back and change it?”
Primrose shrugged. “I couldn’t know, now could I?”
“Of course, because you wouldn’t remember. Could a person go back and change a big thing?”
&
nbsp; “You mean things like disasters and plane crashes, don’t you?”
“And assassinations that start wars,” Amy said.
“Alas, no. My sister tried that. She wanted to go back and stop Eve from eating that forbidden fruit. But it didn’t work. Her abilities are wonderful, but they’re limited to the personal problems of individuals.”
“But what if I want to go back, not to my immediate past, but to before that? To another life I may have had?”
“I don’t know,” Primrose said. “I’ve never encountered this situation before.”
“What I want to know is if changing my destiny in the past would change my present life. If, say, there were a way to change what happened to a man in the past, say I kept him from being killed, would that change me today?”
“Very interesting question,” Primrose said. “I can’t give you an answer, but in my experience, true love usually wins over everything.”
“True love didn’t win in Faith’s life and I don’t think Zoë has ever experienced it.”
“If that were true, she’d have no need of my sister’s services.”
Amy blinked for a few seconds. “You mean that Zoë loved someone but that person hasn’t come forward?”
“Perhaps,” Primrose said as she glanced at the clock. “I really think I’ve said too much. My sister will cut off my chocolate for a week. Hmmm, it seems that the teapot is empty.”
Amy knew that was her cue to leave, but she had a thousand questions that needed answering. “All of this is so new to me,” she said. “Since I lost my baby nothing has been the same in my life.”
“Perhaps your daughter didn’t want to be born to someone whose destiny was off track.”
“If my destiny is out of balance it’s not because of anything I’ve done in this life.” Her head came up. “How did you know I was to have a daughter?”
“Intuition. You have a house full of men. Tell me, what does your husband do for a living?”
Amy sighed. “He runs the trucking company that his father started. It’s not Stephen’s choice of careers, but it makes good money. His three older brothers are…” She tried to think of the kindest way of describing them. “They like adventure and excitement. They never seem able to settle down to any one thing, not a job, a wife, or anything.”