“They seemed real enough. I have the sense that someone is after me . . . as if I am on the run.” I wrapped my arms around my torso, the memory a little too vivid.
“Why would someone be after you? Is this person trying to hurt you, do you suppose?”
I blinked. How would I know? Yes, I guess. “I’m not sure.”
“So-o-o you never saw anyone in this vision? Do you have any idea what may have triggered it?”
I liked Dr. Greyson better when he was Aiden’s grandfather and not my doctor. He was like one of those PEZ dispensers I’d seen at the dime store, every time he opened his mouth, questions shot out. “I guess it was the note . . . that sense of being watched. You’re the expert when it comes to the mind.”
“What about Aiden?”
Aiden! What did he have to do with this? I must have looked confused.
“You’ve been spending a lot of time together,” he clarified. “Perhaps in the back of your mind you’re sensitive that he’s getting too close. Could be that this triggered your memory.” He rested his elbows on the arms of the chair, hands clasped, and two index fingers forming a steeple.
I wasn’t sure I liked the direction of the conversation. Shifting in my seat, I reached out to pluck another lemon drop from the dish. I twisted the wrapper without opening it. “I don’t want to talk about Aiden.”
“Very well. What do you want to discuss?” He leaned back in the chair, his keen eyes probing.
I shrugged, searching for something to say. My eyes darted about the room as if trying to find a safer topic written on the wall. Suddenly my gaze landed on the window box. The medals gleamed in the morning sunlight. “I’m sorry, Dr. Greyson, I’m just not ready to talk about my feelings. You’re asking me all these questions, and I just can’t remember. Maybe you could tell me a little more about you.”
“Me?” He gave a surprised chuckle, the sound bubbling over his lips. “My dear, girl, I hardly think the life of an old man would interest you. You flatter me.”
“On the contrary. You’ve been so kind. I’m not sure where I’d be today if you hadn’t stepped up and offered to help.” I stood, crossing the room and pointed to the medals. “Would you tell me about the war and how you and Nurse Albrecht met? Aiden says you met during a war.”
His lips flattened as he studied me. Several minutes passed until I thought he might refuse to speak on the subject, but then he smiled and gave a nod. “Very well. I received those for my service in The Great War, or World War I as they refer to it now days,” he clarified. “You see Hilda was just a young girl at the time, not much older than you are now. Her family was German, but they had moved to Belgium. I’m not sure how much you know about the war, but the German Army attacked neutral Belgium on their march toward France. The attack was . . .” He paused, searching for the right words. “Quite brutal. Many were shot and others fled for their lives. She was one of the lucky ones—and when I say lucky, I mean she wasn’t killed. She witnessed the deaths of her parents and siblings when the Imperial German Army invaded the country and shot many they considered to be a threat.”
Pressing my fingers to my mouth, I tried to mask my surprise. “How horrible.” I suddenly regretted feeling so harshly toward her I’d learned a little about world history from studying Aiden’s college books. They briefly described aspects of the two World Wars, but it was different when you had a first-hand account.
He pushed a finger along the edge of his desk, pausing to see my reaction before continuing. “She remained in German occupied Belgium until the Allies could liberate them. That’s how we met. My medical unit assisted the BEF as part of the Hundred Days Offensive. While working with them, I sustained injuries from an exploding shell. The medics took me to the hospital where Hilda worked, and she nursed me back to health. I guess you could say I owe her my life.”
From that moment I began to see past Nurse Albrecht’s abrupt manner. Perhaps after all she’d experienced, she had a right to be guarded around people. I nodded for him to continue.
“After the war, I remained in Belgium, where I met my wife. I stayed several years with her family. Her father was a baron of some sort. We Americans put little store in those things.” He waved a dismissive hand. “When we found out she was pregnant, we returned to the states. I employed Nurse Albrecht to look after her. The rest, as they say, is history. There you have it. All very dull, I’m afraid.”
“Dull? Hardly. It gives me new perspective. You helped her out after the war, and it seems you are still helping damsels in distress. Although, I get the sense she doesn’t approve of Aiden’s friendship with me?”
Dr. Greyson leaned back in his chair, the shifting weight causing it to squeak as he looked at me. “Hilda and Aiden have never seen eye to eye. They are like two opposite poles, and I’m afraid she doesn’t care for his treatment of his grandfather.”
I must have looked surprised because I’d yet to see Aiden anything but respectful concerning Dr. Greyson. My thoughts must have been mirrored on my face, as he rushed to explain.
“Don’t misunderstand, Aiden is a wonderful boy. But do be careful, my dear, I wouldn’t want to see you hurt. Aiden can be fickle. He wants one thing one moment, and then as soon as he has it, he’s on to something new.”
No, that didn’t sound like the Aiden I knew. Dr. Greyson was mistaken, or perhaps letting old fashion ideas cloud his judgment. Aiden was the most generous person I’d met, but then again, I knew so little. Could he simply be someone taking advantage of my vulnerable situation? I shook my head, a lump forming in my throat. Remorse for thinking such a thing turned the handful of candy to hard lumps that lay like rocks in my stomach.
“Now, don’t go fretting yourself. Aiden is a dear friend to you, and as his grandfather, I love him. I’m only saying he can be a bit . . . what’s the word, impetuous. But I see our time is up. Perhaps next time, you’ll be more comfortable discussing those flashbacks you’re experiencing.”
I half listened at this point, feeling puzzled. My heart thudded against my ribs in defense of Aiden. I mumbled a thank you and headed back to my room. I almost collided with Betsy barreling down the hall.
“Oh, there you are.” She sounded out of breath.
Being close to the same age, I’d struck up a friendship of sorts with the saucy maid I’d met on my first day. She had traded her uniform for a white pair of knee boots, a swing style jumper that fell above her knees, and a wide headband that held back her short, brown hair. “I forgot you had the day off.” I forced a smile, still troubled by what Dr. Greyson had said.
“What’s with the gloomy face?” I shrugged.
“Anyway, I’m on my way out. Attila the Hun asked if I wouldn’t speed you along before I left.”
“Speed me along?”
“Hello? Remember your therapy? You know she hates to be kept waiting.”
Did I remember, did I ever! She’d about taken my head off the last time I was late. I thought about what Dr. Greyson had just shared, and took the high road. “Perhaps she doesn’t mean to be so harsh.”
“I’m sure she does. You’re too kind, Janie. You’d better hurry. She’s been flipping out this afternoon. I’ve got to jet. Why don’t you come with me? I’m meeting my boyfriend, Paul. We’re headed to the movies and afterward, hanging out in the park, it’ll be a gas.”
I considered her offer. It had been too long since I’d left the house—since receiving that anonymous note. I hedged, then decided an outing with Betsy might be just the thing. “If you’re sure I won’t be in the way.”
“Are you kidding? My old man’s cool.” Her pretty little mouth, painted in a frosted lipstick, stretched across her face in a brilliant smile.
I struggled to keep a straight face, always finding her choice of words amusing. “Give me a few minutes to get changed.”
Betsy popped her gum and headed back toward the servant’s stairs. “I’ll wait for you out front.”
I continued to my room, stopping short
when I found the entry ajar. Sure that I’d closed it when I left this morning, the hair on my arms rose. I pushed the door open, stepped in, and looked around with caution.
Nothing appeared out of place as I searched the corners. I owned nothing of any value. Perhaps Betsy had left it open when she’d tried to find me. But my skin prickled. Someone had been in my room. Something I couldn’t put my finger on was different.
My stomach churned and a strange fear ruffled the hairs on my neck. You’re just being silly, I told myself. I rubbed a protective circle over my rounding belly as I tiptoed across the floor, checking that nothing had been disturbed.
“There you are!” A harsh voice jerked me around.
All six-foot-something stood in the door. Nurse Albrecht wore an expression of a thundercloud about to unleash a streak of lightning. Maybe I deserved it for keeping her waiting. I should have sent Betsy to tell her that I would skip the session today.
“I-I’m sorry,” I started. “Betsy invited me into town. I thought—”
“You thought you’d skip your exercises today. How considerate of you to inform me.” Her sarcasm scorched the air like acid.
“Yes. Yes, of course you’re right. But I’d just decided to go—just in the last few minutes. I would have slipped by and told you on my way out.”
Her look soured.
“Look, I’m sorry. We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot. I’m not sure what I’ve done to offend you, but whatever it is, I apologize. Dr. Greyson and I just finished a session. He told me about your family.” I placed my hand on her arm, my simple way of trying to make amends.
Her eyes drilled holes in me, the intensity making the minutes stretch out until I felt as if I’d melt in a puddle at her feet. “Did he?”
I jerked my hand back. “Y-yes, he told me everything about how you met.”
She folded her arms, her gaze hardened from fire to ice. The corners of her mouth curled upward in a chilling smile that made me tingle with numbing cold. Where moments before she’d nearly singed me with the heat of her anger, she now regarded me with frigid contempt. “I seriously doubt that.” Then she spun from the room, leaving me confused and shaking from the exchange.
Chapter 27
Jack raked his fingers through his coarse hair in frustration. He’d turned the office upside down in search of the recently drawn plans for an entertainment center. Positive he’d seen them yesterday, he opened first one drawer, then another in his desk. Nothing. Next he removed each object from the pigeon hole shelving, running his hand along the board, only to find it empty.
When he was in a hurry, he often stored papers there for quick access. He’d rummaged through them not more than ten minutes ago. It was crazy to sift through that mess again, but they must be there. Once more he searched the bottom shelf, jamming his arm to the back until his shoulder hit the wood. Success! This time, he grasped the edge of something—it crackled like paper. Positive it hadn’t been there before, he inched it closer with the tips of his fingers.
Just. A. Little. More . . . and . . . got it!
But his face fell. Not his plans at all, rather a half-folded, half-crumpled parchment. He palmed it, ready to ball it up and throw it in the trash when he noticed his name. As he read, his second cup of coffee boiled in his stomach.
Dear Mr. Vines,
I am writing this letter on behalf of my mistress to let you know she is in danger. Please understand that I overstep my station in telling you this information, and, I pray you are a man of honor. I find this most remarkable, and have difficulty believing that you are, as you say, from the future. Still, I have seen your letters as proof, and I must take this at face value and not some sort of hoax.
Mrs. Wiltshire is being held here in the house against her will. She is in the upper tower. My employer is a cruel man, and I fear for all our safety. He has convinced Miss Jewel that she has some sort of break from reality and that you are part of this insanity. He has her heavily medicated and controls the distribution and dosage of the drug. I feel helpless as to how best to help. It is my duty to look after Mrs. Wiltshire.
I . . .
Here, the letter stopped abruptly.
Jewel! Alive! His heart surged. She was still here—a prisoner in the tower!
Forgetting the diagrams, his thoughts veered from his search. How could he get inside that room? He’d locked it himself the last time he’d been in there. It had been months since he’d seen the keys. He pictured them, a large thick ring with the smaller 9/11 emblem he’d purchased several years ago when he visited New York. Where were they now?
His eyes skipped across the desk. Good luck finding them in that chaos. He’d torn the room apart hunting for the diagram, and if the missing set was here, he’d have discovered them earlier. But they had to be somewhere. They couldn’t just vanish.
Jack abandoned the clutter and raced up the stairs. Off the main staircase lay a hidden stairwell that led up to the tower. This was the only means to the upper room. He doubted he’d been there since the day he’d moved in. Cast-off furniture from previous owners—mostly junk filled the space. He’d never taken the time to clean it out, or for that matter, bothered to see what was stored there.
He recalled the realtor showing him the house and how he’d laughed about the round tower room. It must be where they kept the crazy old aunt, he’d joked. How could he be so callous? He’d find a way inside if he had to knock down the door.
With his hand on the knob, he twisted it back and forth. Locked—just as he suspected. Like a scene from an old movie, he thought about picking the lock. Doubtful he could accomplish that feat even if he did have a hairpin, which he did not. But he did have a set of tools downstairs, and he was capable of removing the hinges.
Down the steps, he flew to retrieve his things, then returned and started to work on the door. He noted it was different from the rest of the doors in the house. This one didn’t look to be as old . . . perhaps it was added later? He wondered what had happened to the original.
Once removed, Jack set it aside, stepped inside, and brushed away a rope of dusty cobwebs. Light strained through the dirty window. Imposing mountains of furniture sat draped in flowing gray sheets, so that he had to turn sideways to edge through the room.
The air was thick and hot. Already beads of sweat dotted his forehead and upper lip. His lungs labored for breath in the oppressive heat. What must it be like for Jewel trapped alone up here? He inched his way toward the window, dodging ghostly figures until he reached the latch. It unlocked easily enough, but the window had swollen shut.
The grime made seeing outside impossible. Using his forearm, he wiped the dirt. But years of neglect had frosted the glass to an opaque milky shade. He’d most likely have to find someone to replace them.
Then, there it was . . . a difference in the air. No, it was still blistering. It wasn’t that. There was this . . . presence. He knew. Although he couldn’t see her, Jewel was there. She was alive and in this room.
A muffled voice startled him. “Jack?”
“Jewel?”
“No, Jack, it’s me . . . Samantha. What are you doing up here? I’ve been standing on the porch knocking for fifteen minutes.”
Jack closed his eyes, feeling foolish and disappointed. Had he really thought it would be that easy to communicate with her? “Back here, Sam.”
“What’s going on?” Samantha’s muted chatter rose from behind an oversize mound of furniture. “I hope you don’t mind, I let myself in with the key under the mat. I got worried when I found your truck in the driveway, but you didn’t answer the doorbell.”
He followed the direction of her voice. It was impossible to see her for the piles of junk. “I’m going to call Jeff and ask if he can help me move this stuff out.” Movement from behind an old dress form revealed her location. He shuffled toward her. “Sorry. Didn’t hear you knock. Of course it’s okay. That’s why I showed you where I hid the spare key.”
Sam swiped at a
cobweb that blocked her path. Her face was already shiny with perspiration. Several strands had fallen from her haphazard ponytail and clung to her neck. “Mercy. It must be over a hundred degrees up here. What in the world are you doing?”
“Let’s go back down to my office. I’ll explain everything.”
She fanned herself with her hand. “You get no argument from me. Although this would be a pretty cool room . . . well . . . if it was cooler in here.” She laughed at her own joke.
“Ha, ha.” He was in arm’s length of her now and wiped a smudge of dirt from her face. “Oops, uh . . . I made it worse.”
“No worries. I’m washable.” She turned to thread her way back out. Jack followed.
Cool air rushed over them as soon as they reached the first landing.
“I’ve always considered myself an old fashioned girl, but for once I’m glad I live in the age of air conditioning. Sheesh! That explains why those ladies were constantly swooning.”
“I have to agree with you there,” Jack said, flopping onto the couch. “Let me catch my breath, and I’ll pour us a glass of tea.”
“Don’t bother. I stopped by the drive-through on the way.” She picked up a large cup and rattled the ice. Condensation dripped and landed on the rug. “Two sweet teas. I brought lunch, so I hope you haven’t eaten yet.”
“Ah! You’re a beauty! I detected the scent of salted fries in the air.” He accepted the tea and white bag with double arches on the front. “You’re going to make me fat. How am I supposed to watch my girlish figure?”
“You’re kidding, right? Head back to that sauna room, and you can sweat off several pounds, no problem.” She opened her own sack and crammed a couple of fries in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “So what were you doing up there?”
Jack took a sip of his tea and handed her the note he’d stuffed in his pocket. He watched her eyes grow wide as she read.
“So it was the housekeeper. I knew it!”
“The thing is, I didn’t find it in Jewel’s room like all the others. I found it over here in this
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