“I’m sorry,” Ellie said. Fiona, meanwhile, had winced at Ellie’s gaffe. “This is just so complicated. It’s hard to know where to begin.”
“Why are you calling my mother ‘Grammy?’” She eyed Ellie from head to foot, looking both suspicious and frightened. “How do you know my daughter?”
Ellie felt as if she was on a cliff, with no way to ease herself down. “I am your daughter,” she said. “I’m Ellie.”
Fiona let out a small groan.
Her mother’s expression mutated into a look of unbridled rage. “Is this some kind of a sick joke?! Do you think this is funny? Are you that cruel?!”
“Your maiden name is Walker,” Ellie said, desperately grasping at straws. “Your mother’s first name is Julie. That’s your middle name. Dad’s name was Richard, middle name Frank. His parents were Robert and Nancy.”
“I realize you know my mother’s name. You’re in her house, after all. You’re not going to be able to keep up this pretense, young lady! Ellie was brilliant.”
Was?! No! I can’t be dead! Mom must mean that I’m comatose now.
“She’d never sit here and try to—” her mom continued.
“I had a cat named Misty,” Ellie heard herself babble, “and a lizard named Stanley. Until Misty ate Stanley one afternoon when I was in seventh grade.” Mom must be losing hope that I’ll come out of my coma. I woke up in Alexis’s body; she’ll wake up in mine. “I had a stuffed dog named Leo when I was little. I gave Leo a haircut one morning, and I asked you for permission to cut it after I already had.”
“I don’t remember anything about Ellie giving Leo a haircut,” her mother snarled. “Maybe you two are doing this on some sort of dare. Are you recording this? Putting it on Youtube?”
“No!” Fiona said. “Alexis is just—”
Growing more and more desperate, Ellie said, “My favorite food is spaghetti.”
“She liked pizza.”
“I meant the meals that you cooked! And my favorite ice cream is pralines and cream.”
“No, it isn’t, it’s butter pecan.”
“Ms. Montgomery—” Fiona interrupted.
“No, it’s pralines. You’re always getting that wrong.”
“If I get it wrong, why would you mention ice cream flavors? You’re not my daughter! You can’t even act like her for five minutes! Ellie wouldn’t have made a mistake like that.”
Tears were starting to run down Ellie’s cheeks. She pounded her thighs with her fists. “Yes, she would! Because I just did! Ask me anything only I would know!”
“No!” her mother stamped her foot. “I’m not going to fall for whatever monstrous trick you think you’re playing on me!”
Ellie didn’t even recognize that shrieking tone of voice in her mother.
“Mommy! It’s really me!”
Fiona got to her feet. Ellie’s mother stepped away from Fiona and was eyeing both of them as if afraid one of them would brandish a weapon.
Her mom shook her head. “Did you make Ellie give you personal information!? At gunpoint!?”
“No! I’m Ellie! I woke up in someone else’s body!”
Her mother’s eyes lit up for a split second, but the expression passed so quickly that Ellie couldn’t act on it. Then her mother grimaced and put her fists over her eyes. “You’re both con artists, and you’re connected to my husband’s and daughter’s murders!”
“Murders?” Ellie repeated, stunned. I’m dead?! My soul is never going to get back into my body!
“When did this happen, Ms. Montgomery?” Fiona asked.
“Two weeks ago. The police will want to talk to you both. They think it was just a burglar, who didn’t realize the house was occupied when he broke in.”
Her mother crossed the room, picked up a cordless phone, and started to dial. She swayed a little, losing her balance as she turned her back on Ellie and Fiona. “Yes, this is Cassandra Montgomery.”
Oh, my God. Mom’s probably on anti-depressants. She’s not in a state of mind to recall things like cutting my toy’s fur! How could I have been so stupid! “Mom!” she yelled in anguish. “It’s really me!”
Her mother put her hand over her ear and turned her back on Ellie. “I need to speak to Detective Martinez, please.”
Fiona grabbed Ellie’s arm. “Come on.” She pulled Ellie onto her feet. “We’re getting out of here. We’re sorry to have bothered you, Ms. Montgomery. It won’t happen again.”
“I need to speak to someone about placing a restraining order,” Ellie’s mother said into the phone.
Ellie started to sob again.
Fiona dragged Ellie through the door and down the steps. “Oh, my God,” Ellie moaned, “I’m dead. The gunman killed us both. I’ll never get back in my body! What am I going to do?”
“Right now, we’re hauling your ass back across state lines and into your hospital bed. I’m not going to let you get jailed for your own murder!”
Chapter 6
“Ellie.”
She awoke, but only for a moment. She sensed that it was morning. It was a man’s voice. Maybe Steve’s. Her nurse might not have heard that she’d only gotten back to bed at five a.m. She nodded off again.
“Ellie,” the voice said once again. She fought against awakening, against swimming up from the depths of her well. She’d felt so hopeless, she’d cried most of the ride back to the hospital. Then she had done precisely as she was told without a word of protest. She hadn’t stood up for Fiona as a nurse had yelled at her for helping Ellie leave the hospital. Fiona had lost her hospital-volunteer privileges. Now Fiona, too, probably hated her.
She opened her eyes for just a moment, then shut them again, surrendering to her sedative.
“Ellie Montgomery,” the man said.
She awakened.
A handsome, dark-haired man roughly her own age was standing over her. She blinked in surprise.
“It’s okay, Ellie,” he said in a half whisper. “You’re not crazy. I know what you’re going through. I’m sorry. It was the only way I could save you. You have to pretend to be Alexis Bixby. Your life depends on that. You’re Alexis.”
In spite of herself, Ellie drifted back to sleep.
#
Ellie gradually grew aware that someone was moving about nearby. She opened her eyes. It was Steve, the nurse, who promptly grinned at her. “Good morning,” he said. “Our prodigal patient has returned.”
Seeing Steve’s smiling face was, at least, a massive improvement to last night’s events. Ellie drew a pair of circles in the air in mock celebration. “Are you going to ‘kill the fatted calf’ in my honor?”
“Nah. We don’t do that sort of thing here. We prefer not to ‘kill’ anything bigger than germs. But I’ll bet there’s beef bouillon on your lunch menu.”
“Yum.”
He gave her an affable shrug. “Well, I like it. But then, I like Spam and Velveeta.” He studied Ellie’s gaze. “So, do you want me to call you Ellie?”
She winced. There was little point now in pleading her case. It hardly mattered. Her own mother couldn’t recognize her. And took out a restraining order against her. “Ellie’s dead. I guess I’m going to have to get used to answering to ‘Alexis.’”
He studied her features, his face registering his concern. “Alexis it is, then,” he said gently.
“What time is it?”
“Eleven thirty a.m.”
“Did I have any visitors in the past few hours? While I was sleeping?”
“Not since my shift began. And no visitor entries were logged from the previous one. Why?”
“I thought someone spoke to me. He said that I’ve got to pretend to be Alexis Bixby.”
She couldn’t read Steve’s expression. “Maybe he was a doctor,” she added, thinking out loud. “He said something about saving me. But a doctor wouldn’t tell me I had to pretend to be Alexis Bixby, would he?”
“Doctors are supposed to note the times of their patient visits. So that they c
an charge their enormous fees. It could have been a dream. Your meds alone can cause vivid dreams and hallucinations. Not to mention how bruising of the brain messes with a person’s head.”
Ellie met his gaze, glad that he was here. She liked him infinitely better than any of the doctors she’d met so far. “You sound less than certain about the visitor being a hallucination. Whereas Dr. Vander would have told me without a moment of hesitation that it was a figment of my imagination.”
A look of annoyance flashed across Steve’s features, and she knew at once that he didn’t care for Dr. Vander either. “Doctors need to be decisive.” He gave her a smile. “I’ve got to take your temperature.” He touched the thermometer to her ear. “I looked up Elony Montgomery on my computer after I got off-duty.”
“You believe me?”
He glanced at the thermometer. “Ninety-eight point two.” He met her gaze. “I’ve been a nurse for twelve years. I’ve seen all kinds of unexplainable stuff happen with coma patients. Your story takes the cake, though.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“That’s not for me to say. But I can tell you what the fastest way to get yourself released from this hospital is, Alexis.”
“Point taken.” She looked out the window. From her vantage point, she could see only the gray sky. Regardless of whether her visitor was real or imagined, he was right: the only way she would get out of this hospital was to pretend to be Alexis Bixby.
#
Late that afternoon, shortly after Alexis’s mother had left, Fiona entered the room. “Fiona,” Ellie said, relieved. “I was afraid you’d never come back to visit after the whole . . . road trip.”
“It’s New Year’s Eve, Allie.” She gave her a lopsided grin and handed her a noisemaker—a plastic toy that made a ratcheting noise when it was spun in the air. “Where else would I be?”
Ellie was touched, and took a moment to collect herself, while giving the noisemaker a “woohoo” spin. “We have a tradition of spending it together?”
Fiona shrugged, but also gave her a wry smile. “Yeah, but even if we didn’t, my parents have grounded me. So . . . I can’t exactly go out partying. It’s amazing that they’re letting me come here, but I’ve got to be home by nine. They’re pretty pissed off at our ‘joy ride to Philadelphia,” as they call it.”
“Not exactly a joyful trip.”
Fiona gave an exaggerated grimace and rocked on her heels. “Oddly, they focused on the fact that I drove all the way out there without telling them I was going. Apparently they felt my text message to them, saying that I’d be with you all night, was misleading.”
“Parents. Go figure.”
Ellie had automatically joined in Fiona’s joshing tone, and now felt a horrid pang to think about her dead father and her grieving mother.
Fiona’s expression fell as she, too, registered how inappropriate it was to joke about her parents with Ellie.
“It’s okay,” Ellie said, forcing a semblance of a smile. “I have to let this go. Somehow. I have to accept that I’m no longer Elony Montgomery. That I will never be myself again.” She smoothed the blankets, finding it easier not to make eye contact. “Sometimes I think I almost remember being Alexis. And it’s only been a couple of days since I woke up. You know, maybe it’s possible that it was just some sort of . . . psychic phenomenon that happened—a connection as our souls were passing into the next world.”
“Yeah,” Fiona said with an unconvincing grin. “Maybe Heaven stamped ‘return to sender’ on your forehead, but then they shipped you to the wrong body.”
Even though she realized Fiona was trying her best to be cheerful and play along, Ellie couldn’t help but wince. “It sounds so ridiculous. Anyway, the thing I learned from our . . . joyride is that I’ve got to make the best of who I am from now on.”
“Okay. Whatever works for you, works for me. We’ll just concentrate on getting you back up to full speed.” She opened her backpack. “And we’re on the same page, because I brought you something to help get your memories back.”
“Homework?”
“Nope. Pictures of almost all of our classmates.” She handed a yearbook to Ellie. “We’ll go over all the people you actually know.”
“Was I popular?”
“Not especially. You kind of got difficult to be around after your sister died. You were an incredible artist. The best in Albany Central.”
“I don’t how I’m going to fake being good at art. I’m a pretty good pianist, though. Does that help?”
Fiona shook her head. “Not even ‘Chopsticks.’”
Ellie pursed her lips. This was all feeling completely hopeless once again. “My handwriting. It’s not going to be the same.”
“I thought about that, too. I brought some letters. You’ll just have to learn to forge your signature. You were really great at that. You could earn money whenever you wanted to by charging kids to forge their parents’ signatures.”
Ellie couldn’t help but grimace. “Was I a slacker?”
“Kind of. You never did the reading assignments. But whenever teachers called on you, you’d just talk a mile a minute and sound so enthusiastic that you’d get away with it.”
Faced with the enormity of the task that lay ahead, Ellie had the strong temptation to curl herself in the fetal position. “I don’t know where to start.”
Fiona sat on the edge of Ellie’s bed and opened the yearbook to a bookmarked page. “With the A’s. As in Gayla Abbot. She transferred to Albany Central last year. She’s kind of the annoyingly effervescent type . . . always says ‘Hiya, Alexis,’ so you always say: ‘Hi, Gail-ya’ back to her, but that’s just your thing between you. We like her. Just never get coffee with her.”
“Too naturally perky for caffeine?”
“Exactly. Next is Michael Ackerton. Huge crush on you, but you never give him the time of day, because he thinks he’s football cool. Perennial benchwarmer, though.”
She looked at the photograph and couldn’t help but curl her lip at his major case of zits. She used the mnemonic “Acne Ackerton” to remember the name.
#
Ellie was released from the hospital on January 6th. Over the course of the last week, her mother had fallen into the pattern of telling her every little anecdote she possibly could. Her dad, meanwhile, fell into saying, “Don’t push her, Teresa. She’ll remember in due time.”
Feeling tense during the ride home from the hospital, Ellie found herself rolling her eyes at her parents’ predicable verbal exchange. She growled, “I’m remembering In Due Time, but nothing else,” and they fell into silence. She felt obliged to say something complimentary and said, “Hey, nice neighborhood,” when her father turned onto a narrow street lined with small, boxy-looking homes.
“This is where you and Fiona learned to ride your bicycles,” her mother said.
“Can we drive past her house?”
Her father gestured at the house across the street. “That’s it right there.”
“I should remember,” Ellie told herself. Her repeated visits with Dr. Schultz had slowly begun to make her suspect that she could actually be Alexis, and that she’d experienced some sort of inexplicable psychic phenomenon.
Three blocks later, her dad slowed to turn into the driveway of a ranch-style, beige house. “Do you know where we are, honey?” her mother asked.
“Home?” Ellie surmised.
“That’s right.” Her mom turned and beamed at her. “You’re starting to remember.”
Ellie didn’t have the heart to point out that it hadn’t exactly been a difficult conclusion to draw, considering that her father was currently operating the garage-door opener. “Let us out in the driveway, Brian,” her mom instructed. “The last thing Alexis needs is to trip on all the junk in the garage as she’s trying to stand up.”
“Actually, I’m perfectly steady on my feet now,” Ellie said. She wanted to address her parents as “Mom” and “Dad,” but she just couldn’t quite ge
t those words out.
“Oh, absolutely! You’ve made remarkable progress. Everyone says that. All the doctors, and the nurses. You’ll be back in long-distance running shape in no time.”
Alexis, as it turned out, had been a cross-country star. Of all things. She was also apparently on the track team in the spring. Ellie had seen the yearbook pictures. Apparently Alexis’s three areas of expertise were: drawing, running, and bull-shitting teachers. “I think it could be a while till I build up my stamina again.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” her dad said. He got out of the car, but promptly turned to his wife and said, “Should I help her out of the car, Terry?”
“I’m fine.” I can get out of the freaking car by myself! She didn’t want to be snarky. She wanted to be happy. Yet this short trip from the hospital had made her see the enormity of what she was facing; all these houses, all these people living their lives with a continuity of memory that perhaps included a memory of her that she couldn’t reciprocate in kind. She knew her parents weren’t to blame. They wanted to help her. Desperately. She softened her voice. “But, thanks.” Again, she couldn’t bring herself to add the word: Dad.
“You should get her bag.”
Just as Ellie was shutting her door, someone started up a car engine. She spotted a black sedan pulling away from the curb. She gasped when she saw the young man behind the wheel; he’d been her visitor at the hospital that night, now nearly two weeks ago, who’d told her she wasn’t crazy, and that she had to pretend to be Alexis Bixby.
“That guy in the car,” she cried at her parents. “Look!”
“At what, honey?” her mom said.
“I know that driver.” She trotted down the driveway, but the car was already turning the corner and was soon out of sight. “Did you see the guy in the black car that drove off just now?”
“Oh, well, I didn’t get a look at him myself, but it’s a really good sign that you remember meeting him. Isn’t it, Brian?” she said over her shoulder, then returned her focus to Ellie. “It’s probably someone you know at Albany Central.”
“His car had Virginia license plates.”
The Body Shifters (Book 1 Body Shifters Trilogy): A Novel (The Body Shifters Trilogy) Page 4