Second Chances

by P. D. Cacek

  Eva walked over to the desk and sat down, suddenly exhausted. “Well, we’ll deal with that when the time comes, but regardless I’m sure our guest will love this room as much as Curtis did. Of course I had to buy a few new things, mattress, bedding, towels, that sort of thing, oh, and new underwear, of course.”

  She’d put all of Curtis’s undershirts and briefs into a plastic bin and hidden it in the back of her craft closet. She’d bring them out when Curtis came back; she couldn’t stand the idea of someone…something else wearing them.

  “But that’s all. We know everything else will fit.”

  Her husband stopped just short of the middle of the room. “I’m having second thoughts, Eva. I don’t know if I can handle it.”

  “Well, you’ll have to.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if you don’t I’ll kill myself.”

  He stared at her for a moment, then turned and walked out of the room.

  Good.

  Standing, Eva walked to the bed and smoothed down the dark blue spread. She’d bought it to replace the one Curtis had stained with some kind of chemical, but knew her husband hadn’t noticed.

  Just like he hadn’t noticed Curtis’s genius.

  “There,” she said, swatting out a stray wrinkle, “good as new.”

  Eva walked to the middle of the room and began turning in a slow circle, surveying the room. It was perfect, just the same. Curtis would be upset if anything was out of—

  She looked at the clock again. 5:42.

  “Shoot!”

  Eva rushed out the door and reached their bedroom just as her husband was in the process of peeling off his sweat-damp undershirt.

  “Hurry up and take a shower,” she said. “We can have dinner out.”

  He turned to look at her, frowning. “I’d rather not.”

  “Well, I just thought it’d be easier since the caregivers’ seminar starts at seven and Doylestown’s almost an hour’s drive.”

  Her husband sat down on the bed hard enough to make the box spring creak. “Oh, hell, is that tonight?”

  “Why would I say it if it wasn’t tonight? Get in the shower and wear something nice…one of your good shirts and slacks. I’ll use the hall bath.”

  She’d already picked out her outfit, the midi wrap dress, green with white polka dots, that Curtis once told her he liked.

  “Oh, and I don’t think you need to wear a tie. It’s supposed to be casual.”

  * * *

  Haverford, Pennsylvania

  Jessie?

  Jessie stopped counting and closed her eyes. They’d moved her while she’d been asleep. She knew that even though the room looked the same. Except for the ceiling. The squares were bigger and the holes were smaller. She hadn’t been asleep for seven hundred and sixty-eight holes.

  Jessie, please?

  Jessie opened her eyes.

  I heard you, Jessie. I heard you scream.

  Jessie focused on the tiny space between two holes directly above her. She wasn’t there. She was somewhere else. She was in a white field, under a white sky, surrounded by nothing, thinking of nothing, being nothing.

  Nothing filled her and the voice inside her head got smaller.

  Jessie.

  And smaller

  Jessie.

  And smaller

  Jessie.

  Until it disappeared.

  …

  She closed her eyes.

  * * *

  Arvada, Colorado

  He didn’t know what to do with his hands.

  All morning and well into the afternoon Jess made sure they were filled and useful, kept busy. They first moved Abigail’s bedroom furniture and assorted knick-knacks and boxes of books across the hall to what had been the guest room, then, with the help of a few of the congregation, they had packed up and carried Jessica’s things to the rented U-Haul van in the driveway. The last thing his hands had done was close the van’s door on his daughter’s life.

  Now they were empty. He tried folding them under his arms but that made him look unapproachable, which was the wrong image for a minister of God, even a grieving minister, to convey, and slipping them into his pockets would have made him look untouched by the morning’s events…and what had precipitated them.

  So they hung at his sides, cold and useless, as he walked down the hall.

  Abigail was curled up on the window seat, staring out into the backyard, the bay window surrounding her with sunlight. The room was the smallest of the three upstairs bedrooms and even though it was supposed to have been a guest room, it had never seen a guest. They’d never needed one since both of their parents lived within driving distance and they never entertained out-of-town friends. His wife had claimed the room after the girls were born for crafts and hiding Christmas presents, but there hadn’t been that much to haul away after her funeral. It’d been empty ever since.

  And it still felt empty even though it was filled with Abigail’s things.

  Jess couldn’t remember if it’d been her idea or his for her to change rooms, but it made sense. She needed a space without her sister’s ghost watching from the shadows.

  Jess cleared his throat and brought his hands together, rubbing them as if he’d just come in from the cold. Abigail turned and when he saw what she was holding his hands stopped moving. It was a small, frayed and tattered stuffed bear, its once bright yellow fur faded to the color of old cream. Baby’s First Bear. He’d bought two of them in the hospital gift shop the night they were born. Abigail’s bear was green, Jessica’s was yellow.

  “I found it in the closet,” she said, brushing the few remaining wisps of nylon fur away from its scuffed black button eyes. “I didn’t know she still had it. I haven’t seen mine since I was little. I don’t even know if it’s around anymore…but she kept hers. She never told me. I guess she thought I’d make fun of her about it.”

  It could have been Jessica sitting there, holding her own toy. They looked so much alike.

  “But you wouldn’t have,” he said, “made fun of her.”

  She looked at him and smiled. “Yes, I would. And she would have made fun of me if she’d found Greenie. That was my bear’s name.”

  “I remember,” Jess said, “and that’s Yellow Bear.”

  She nodded and a tear he hadn’t noticed slid down her cheek. “We weren’t very creative back then, were we?”

  “You were just babies.”

  “Yeah, she really loved it.” Another tear fell as she held the bear out to him. “I think we should put it in her…with her. I think she’d like that.”

  Jess wasn’t sure how he managed to walk across the room and take the toy from her, but he did and his hands finally had something to do.

  “I think she would too,” he said.

  * * *

  Haverford, Pennsylvania

  Millie had called before driving back to the hospital and made double sure the Newcomer was up to seeing her.

  Yes, of course she could talk to Jessica Faith. Fine, no problem. They’d be waiting for her. Drive safe. Jessica Faith would be waiting for her.

  Except Jessica Faith wasn’t waiting for her; another nurse – it was Mrs. Huff’s day off – asked if she’d mind waiting just a bit. They’d thought it best to keep Jessica Faith moderately sedated throughout the night and just wanted to make sure Jessica Faith was fully awake.

  The nurse had lowered her voice every time she’d said the name Jessica Faith, as if they were curse words. Would she mind waiting?

  Millie said she’d be glad to and even managed to smile before excusing herself to head for the nearest privy. She was madder than a wet hornet, but it wouldn’t do Jessica Faith or her or the other Newcomers who woke up in the hospital any good if she’d had a hissy fit right in front of God and everybody. What in blue b
lazes had they done that they needed to keep that poor child asleep?

  “They probably wouldn’t have had to if they’d let me see Jessica Faith yesterday,” she told the woman in the privy’s massive mirror. The woman shook her head as Millie stared into the eyes that were still hers.

  Or maybe not, the woman said in Millie’s voice. Didn’t matter what the outside looked like, inside she was still the same and that’s what she wanted the Newcomers to remember.

  Inside they were still the same.

  Lord knows, it was hard enough waking up to find that everybody and everything you knew and loved, including your own self, was gone, harder still to see the face of a stranger staring back at you from a mirror glass, but Millie couldn’t imagine what kind of hard it was to die one kind of person and wake up as the opposite.

  The woman in the glass exhaled.

  It wasn’t as if she’d been a chirpy bundle of joy herself when she’d first come to the now times and Dr. Ellison told her what happened. Sweet Jesus, but didn’t it take her some time to get used to the whole idea. Still, there was no denying the miracle of it all.

  Or the joy.

  Once a body accepted it, of course.

  And that was why she was there, to help get the Newcomer to accept her…his new life and all the joy and whatever else came with it.

  Oh Lord.

  “What am I gonna say to you, little girl?” Millie asked the woman in the glass. “What in all that’s good and right in the world am I gonna say to you?”

  The woman shook her head as Millie ran her fingers through the thick fall of blue-black hair and straightened the collar of her favorite summery dress: red and white stripes like one of the sticks of peppermint candy she had in her toting sack.

  Old or young, angry or scared or frightened beyond words, there was something about sucking on a stick of peppermint candy that gave a Newcomer a sweet point in time to anchor to.

  And she knew that from personal experience, sucking down four whole sticks while Dr. Ellison told her how she came to be the beautiful lady in the mirror glass. If her mouth hadn’t been filled with the first candy she’d ever had that didn’t taste of molasses or honey she might have screamed for all of eternity.

  Which was the other reason she always carried a peck of peppermint sticks in her toting sack…not that they always worked.

  The woman in the mirror glass nodded as Millie slipped the straps of her toting sack over her arm and left the privy.

  The new nurse had the chart out and waiting for her when she reached the station, but Millie couldn’t help raising an eyebrow in feigned surprise.

  “You mean I can see Jessica Faith now?” Millie asked.

  “Yeah, sorry about the wait, but they wanted to make sure he…she…. I suppose this happens all the time, but this is the first time we’ve seen a...gender swap.”

  Nodding, Mille took the chart. “I’ll find out how the Newcomer wants to be called and let you know.”

  “Thanks. They had to put on restraints. The patient presented as suicidal.”

  “Well, that does happen from time to time.” Millie pulled a cellophane-wrapped stick of peppermint out of her tote and handed it to the nurse. “Suck on it slow and enjoy the flavor.”

  The nurse smiled as she unwrapped the candy. “Thanks. Good luck.”

  Millie didn’t believe too much in luck, so she looked toward Heaven and said a small prayer as she left the nurses’ station.

  The room was exactly twenty-seven steps away and Millie counted each and every one of them.

  “Knock, knock?” Millie poked her head around the curtain. “May I come in?”

  The Newcomer didn’t say no, so Millie took that as permission. The young man that Jessica Faith woke up as was a tall drink of water and thin as a rail spike. The report mentioned the sunburn, but Lordy, didn’t it half look painful? Millie couldn’t get a real sense of his looks with his skin all red and puffed up like it was, but he was passable and my, oh, my, but how those green eyes did sparkle.

  Almost as bright as a knife blade.

  “Hello, Jessica Faith, my name’s Millie Benezet-Guzman, but you can call me Ms. B.”

  The Newcomer continued to stare at the ceiling. Well, she didn’t expect it to be easy. Very few of them were.

  Reaching behind the privacy curtain, Millie pulled the visitor’s chair up next to the bed and sat down. When the curtain fluffed back into place, the Newcomer’s bright green eyes darted toward it like a cottonmouth ready to strike.

  This one’s as flighty as a new colt. Millie laid the toting sack on her lap and folded her hands over it.

  “Used to be Millie Tanner,” she said, “but that was the old Master and Missus’ names and after we were freed I met up with a Mr. and Mrs. Benezet, who were the best people I ever knew. They were Quaker and I took their name.”

  Nothing, but then some folks didn’t like history.

  “My other name, Guzman, belonged to the woman I look like.”

  The Newcomer’s snake eyes landed on her and hardened.

  “That’s right, I’m a Traveler, just like you.”

  The bright snake eyes flashed. “Get out! Get out! Get o—”

  The low, gruff voice broke into a coughing fit. The toting sack fell to the floor when Millie stood up and pressed her hand against the thin chest. Dear God. She could feel all the ribs.

  “Hush, now. Hush, just calm yourself. It’s all right.” Millie patted the chest as softly as she could, afraid that anything harder might crack one of those ribs. “Just breathe nice and slow, that’s right. You’ve been in…this body’s been in a hospital for a long time and it needs to heal up, so just try to breathe easy. That’s it, nice and slow. Good. Can I get you some water?”

  When the Newcomer nodded, Millie filled the cup on the bedside table and angled the flexible straw downward.

  “Not too much,” she warned, but the Newcomer latched onto it like a hungry pup. It wasn’t more than a second or two before he…she…Jessica Faith had it drained dry. “Better?”

  The Newcomer’s eyes followed her as she set the cup back on the table and sat down.

  “I know this all must seem strange to you and I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you first woke up.”

  The Newcomer’s eyes shut tight, like a window slamming. Millie watched a tear get caught in the thick lashes.

  “I know, baby, I know. It’s hard, but it happened.”

  The eyes opened, flashing green fire. “I told you to get out, I don’t want you here!”

  “I know you’re scared, Jessica Faith, but that’s why I’m here, so I can help you get easy with your new life.”

  Millie reached out but the Newcomer jerked as if she’d been holding a knife.

  “I told you don’t touch me! Abomination! Imposter!”

  Millie’s hand started shaking as she moved it away. She’d heard the words before, too many times before, but never coming from a Newcomer. The name-calling, along with the organization it came from, had only started a few years ago and Traveler protocol prohibited that they be exposed to the world they’d woken up in until after she or someone like her had talked to them.

  Which meant Jessica Faith Pathway had died and come back sooner than any other Newcomer Millie knew about.

  “All right, I won’t touch. I’m just going to sit down now, see?” Millie kept her eyes locked on the Newcomer’s as she reached down and picked up her toting sack and slipped her hand inside.

  “You want a peppermint stick?”

  She held one up and the green eyes widened before looking away. “Just go.”

  “I can’t do that, Jessica.”

  “Don’t!” The Newcomer winced in pain. “Don’t call me that.”

  “But you told the doctors that was your name. Isn’t it?”

  The thin lips qui
vered. “Not anymore.”

  Poor baby, poor sweet, lost baby. “Well, I have to call you something. Jess?”

  “No! My name’s Jessie.”

  Millie nodded. “That’s a good name. I knew a man named Jessie once, he was a big, powerful—”

  “Kill me.”

  It wasn’t the first time Millie had heard that plea, but it was the first time it hadn’t come with tears or terror or pain or even anger. It was just a request, like asking to go outside.

  “You know we can’t do that. If you’ll just let me explain—”

  The Newcomer yanked on the wrist restraints and sat up, ropy arm muscles straining. It surprised Millie enough to flatten her back against the chair.

  “You don’t have to explain anything. I know what happened! I killed myself because I…didn’t stop an Imposter from taking my friend’s body. I should have stopped it. One body, one soul!”

  Millie felt the breath catch in her lungs. Dear God, it wasn’t possible. “You’re a True Born.”

  “Yes! And so was Carly. She would have saved me even if she hated me…but I didn’t save her. My dad said it was supposed to take three minutes but it was faster. And after he wouldn’t do it, he said it was murder. It was my fault.” The Newcomer fell back against the bed. “Oh God, that’s why, isn’t it? This is my punishment for not saving her body. I’m an Imposter.”

  “We like Newcomer better.” Millie lowered her hand but didn’t put the candy away. She’d had her own dealings with True Borns and, except for the absence of white hoods, most of them were no different than the men who’d killed her. They hated Newcomers for what they were, but she’d never sat down and talked to one, up close, until now.

  And God knows she’d never had one come back. It was too soon.

  Millie set the candy aside and took the copy she’d made of Jessie’s file out of the sack. While the rest was hospital charts and doctors’ comments, the first page was one she’d made up. Divided into two columns right down the middle, it had the donor’s name on the top of the left column and Jessica Faith’s on the right. She’d filled in the left side the night before using name, age, address, gender, date of birth, date of death – the right was still blank except for the name. The rest they’d fill in together, even though it would have been easier to search for Miss Jessica Faith Pathway in the Newcomer database. But sometimes the old-fashioned way of doing things was better. Written down words and histories only told who they’d been; looking into a Newcomer’s eyes and talking to them told Millie who they still were.