Brooke was speechless. The words were moving, even from a complete stranger who somehow seemed so familiar. She found herself almost hoping the girl proved her case, disappeared, and came back. Then Brooke could ask what her life was like in the future and see if it measured up to her fantasies.
Rachel looked at the clockwatch and tried to repeat the steps she had taken in the future before things got fuzzy and she found herself having a conversation with her dead sibling. She pressed the button to play the music, but nothing came out.
Figures.
She tried again and touched other parts of the watch. Still nothing.
A quick glance at Brooke told Rachel her older sister was growing very impatient. So was she. She closed her eyes and tried to will herself to either return to her own time or wake up to what was real.
Neither happened.
When Rachel opened her eyes, Brooke was staring hard at her. “Sorry, I really tried. Guess it only works one way or something.”
Though she had failed, Rachel was not totally unhappy. Obviously the watch had a mind and maybe mission of its own. At least she would get to spend more time with Brooke, if she would let her.
“Sorry, not good enough.” Brooke sneered, feeling a bit disappointed, but not at all surprised. “Whoever you are, you’re no more of a time traveler than I am. And you’re definitely not my little sister!”
“Not so little anymore.” Rachel covered up a giggle, as they were both now the same age and height.
Brooke scoffed. “If you can’t disappear one way, you will another. Let’s go!”
Without giving it much thought, she grabbed the girl’s hand and pulled her towards the stairs.
Rachel resisted, realizing the attic was all she knew of this virtual reality. What if leaving the room meant she might never wake up? Dooming them both to a fate they could not control.
But Brooke was more determined and perhaps a little stronger. “It’s better you leave on your own rather than have the police arrest you for trespassing. Or worse. Try giving them your dream/time travel story and see where it gets you, other than a psych ward.”
Rachel gave up the fight to stay in the attic. She would have to face whatever lay beyond and deal with it.
* * *
Rachel found herself gaping at parts of the house she could barely remember, since it had been renovated and refurnished over the years. It was as if she were looking in family photo albums at old pictures of the place. Only she was living inside the photo and not as her six-year-old self.
Where were her parents? Her mom, particularly? Or was this trip in time just supposed to be about her and Brooke?
At the front door, Brooke shot her a cold look. “Do us both a favor, and stay away from me and my house.”
Rachel wondered if she could, considering this was her house, too and she appeared to be stuck in a time she had already lived through once. She feared leaving the safety of the house could hamper her means to escape what was fast becoming a nightmare.
The door suddenly burst open and Rachel watched with amazement as the mother she hadn’t seen in eight years came in. Their eyes immediately locked and Rachel put a hand to her mouth, which had formed a perfect O, as shocked as when she had first seen Brooke alive.
Catherine Crane was white with short blonde hair and green eyes. A couple of inches shorter than Rachel and Brooke, she was thin and holding two large bags stuffed with clothing. She sat them on the floor, never taking her eyes off Rachel.
Overwhelmed and unable to control herself, Rachel ran into her arms. “Mom! I can’t believe I’m seeing you again!”
Brooke watched helplessly as the nutty girl embraced her mother as though truly her long lost daughter.
Catherine pushed Rachel away. “What did you call me?”
Rachel wiped away tears. She hadn’t expected this experience to go beyond reuniting with Brooke. But it had and she couldn’t turn her back to what had happened to her mom. Or what would happen in the future.
“It’s me...Rachel!” she claimed.
“Rachel?” Catherine looked confused. She turned to Brooke, leaving her to explain.
“She broke into our house, Mom. I found her in the attic.” Brooke swallowed. “When I tried to find out who she was, she gave me some weird story about being Rachel from the future—”
“Is that true?” her mother demanded.
Rachel felt obliged to defend herself. “It’s the truth—not the part about breaking into the house,” she said, “but about being your daughter. It’s me—Rachel. I’m sixteen now, as strange as it sounds. Look at me—”
Catherine did just that and, for an instant, Rachel was sure there was a connection. But it left, replaced by fear and disbelief.
“Whatever game you’re playing, I’m not amused,” her mother said. She eyed Brooke briefly, as though this was all her doing; then glared at Rachel. “Get out of my house, young lady!”
“Please, don’t throw me out, Mom.” Rachel’s voice quivered, though she knew she was asking a lot of someone who didn’t recognize her. “I don’t have anywhere else to go—”
At least not anywhere that I can control.
Rachel looked to Brooke for sisterly support, but got none.
“Stop calling her your mom, which she isn’t!” Brooke’s voice deepened. “You need some serious help. If you ever show up here again, you’ll be sorry!”
Rachel looked at her mother, whom she knew would be dead in two years and there was little she could do about it. But what she could do now was say goodbye properly, while her mom was still lucid enough to understand.
“I just want you to know that no matter what you’re thinking, I am the same Rachel you gave birth to,” she assured her. “Only I’m older, which I can’t really explain in any way that makes sense. I love you, Mom, and always will.” Wiping a tear, Rachel looked at Brooke. “You, too—”
Neither responded.
Since she was too confused to say anything else, Rachel took one more look at them, as if for the last time, and walked out the door. She stepped into a familiar yet strange world, not knowing if she would ever return to her own.
Or if she had ever left it.
CHAPTER FOUR
“What on earth was that all about?” Catherine asked, peering at Brooke.
“I have no idea.” She shrugged. “I’m just glad that nutcase is gone.”
Catherine rolled her eyes. “So you’re telling me she’s not a new friend you snuck in against the rules and hoped to get out before I got back?”
“I swear, I’ve never laid eyes on her before today,” Brooke insisted. “And I definitely didn’t sneak her in.”
“Then where did she come from?” her mother asked.
“I’m still trying to figure that out.” Brooke planned to check all the windows and the back door. “I don’t know how she got in without my hearing her. For all I know, she’s been living in the house right under our noses.” She imagined the girl sneaking into the kitchen for food late at night when they were asleep.
Catherine removed a cigarette pack from her purse, shook one out and lit it with her lighter. “You said she was hiding in the attic?”
“Yeah, kind of.” Brooke mused. More like she was lost up there and trying to find her way home, wherever that was. But not back to the future like she claimed.
“We’ll have to tell your father about this. Maybe we need to get an alarm system installed. We can’t have young women taking refuge here whenever they want.”
“Hey, it wasn’t my fault she got in here,” Brooke said, picking up the skepticism in her tone. “I’m grounded, remember? All I’ve been doing is hanging around the house, taking my punishment. I never asked for company.”
At least not company I didn’t personally invite over.
Catherine sucked on the cigarette. “Well, while you’re enjoying your grounding, you can grab those bags and bring them upstairs.”
Brooke obeyed. “Anything in here for me
?”
“As a matter of fact, there is. I bought you a periwinkle sweater that I think will go well with your complexion.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Walking into the huge master bedroom, Catherine took out the sweater and held it to Brooke’s chest. “So what do you think?”
“I love it.” Brooke was surprised to hear herself say that, as usually their tastes in clothing were like night and day. “Thanks, Mom!”
“You’re welcome.” Catherine’s eyes crinkled. “Just don’t make me regret it anytime soon.”
“I’ll try not to, but can’t make any promises,” she quipped.
“All right, smarty pants. If you want to be grounded for the whole summer, then so be it.”
“Just kidding.” Brooke watched her mother take a final drag on the cigarette and squash it out in an ashtray. Her mind wandered to their unexpected visitor. “Don’t you think she sort of looks like me?”
Catherine gazed at her. “Who?”
Brooke sensed her mother knew exactly who she was talking about. She had watched her study the girl calling herself Rachel, as though she believed it really could be her daughter from the future.
“That girl from the attic,” Brooke said. “I mean, really, she could pass for my sister in appearance alone, if I’d had one around my age. She even looks like Rachel, if you age her by a decade.”
Catherine’s brows came together. “But she’s not Rachel, even if she bears some resemblance to the two of you. Children do not grow up overnight to become young women, no matter what hocus pocus is used. Our Rachel is still with your Nana where she’s supposed to be.”
“Yeah, I get the point.” Brooke felt foolish even entertaining the notion that there may have been a grain or more of truth in what the girl said. “So she’s not Rachel from the future. Do I have another sister I never knew about?” Brooke wasn’t really serious with the question. But she couldn’t totally dismiss the possibility, could she? Not after coming face to face with a girl who not only looked like her, but also seemed to know an awful lot about her and the family.
“Don’t even joke about such a thing,” Catherine said.
“She knew Lola was Nana’s name,” Brooke said.
Her mother cocked a brow. “So what. She could have come up with that any number of ways, including from Rachel—the real one.”
“True,” Brooke conceded, knowing Rachel was talkative and it wouldn’t take much for a clever—or even psychotic—girl to gain info from her.
“If I had another child out there, I’d be the first to know,” Catherine said. “I think two of you girls are more than enough for me to handle, don’t you agree?”
Brooke grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, I suppose.”
So it was a stupid thing to ask. Still, she couldn’t get her mind off the strange girl who had livened up her imprisonment in ways Brooke hadn’t expected. And she could tell the girl had made an impression on her mom.
An impression was one thing, but accepting the fake Rachel’s incredible tale was another altogether. The idea that she had traveled back in time to their attic of all places was laughable, especially when she couldn’t back it up when put to the test by using that silly old watch to zap herself back to the future.
But what if, against all odds, she was telling the truth? Brooke tried to imagine what the future held for her family. If Rachel did travel in time, then it meant she also held the secrets of what was in store for each of them for at least the next ten years.
The notion was as fascinating to Brooke as it was troubling.
* * *
Brooke took the sweater, half expecting her mom to demand to know her every move since she was still grounded, after all. That didn’t happen, for which she was grateful.
After tossing the sweater on her bed, Brooke decided to go dig around the attic, resisting the urge to call Natalie or Gabrielle. Instead, her thoughts were on figuring out how that strange girl had managed to get in the attic without making a sound. The creaking downstairs or on the stairs leading to the attic was usually a dead giveaway that someone was in the house. Not this time. It was almost as if the girl calling herself Rachel had actually materialized in the attic, just as she had implied.
Brooke didn’t believe that for one second. But something strange had happened. Maybe there was a secret passage or corridor for entering the house and attic unseen and unheard. She intended to get to the bottom of it.
In the attic, Brooke looked around. If she expected to find a hidden room, moving walls, or another telltale sign that might point toward an answer, she was mistaken. She stood where the girl had been standing when she first saw her.
Only then did Brooke notice the bottle of water sitting rather precariously on the windowsill. Since she was the only one who had been coming into the attic lately, and never with water, she assumed the girl must have left it.
Brooke lifted the plastic bottle. It looked like ordinary water. But she couldn’t help but wonder if it had been spiked with something, which may have accounted for the girl’s delusions.
She opened the bottle and put it up to her nose. There was no smell of alcohol or anything else that stood out. Maybe it was odorless like some date rape drugs she’d read about.
Or maybe it was only water.
Brooke turned the bottle around and saw the panel on the back that read: 100 percent pure spring water. Yeah, right. Then her eyes drifted to West Valley Bottled Water Co. This was followed by Exp. 10-17-2012.
Brooke did a double take. Was the water really supposed to be safe to drink for more than ten years from now?
I don’t think so.
She recalled that the girl not only claimed to be Rachel, but from the year 2011.
Had she left the bottle intentionally to bolster her case, knowing Brooke would eventually discover it? Or was this all perfectly explainable as a hoax just to see if she would fall for it?
Maybe the bottled water was as fake as she was.
Brooke didn’t know what to think. The idea that the water bottle, along with the girl, had been transported in time was hard to swallow. No pun intended.
But since it didn’t make sense how the girl had ended up in their attic, Brooke supposed she should allow for various options, no matter how farfetched they were.
Including the possibility that the girl was actually telling the truth.
I have to find her and see what else I can learn about who she really is and where she’s from.
But first Brooke had to figure out a way to get her grounding suspended—at least temporarily.
CHAPTER FIVE
Everything looked so familiar yet foreign to Rachel as she wandered down the tree-lined street as if in a fog. Some houses were painted different colors, while others had taller or shorter bushes in front. Even the cars parked in driveways and along the curb were not the ones Rachel was used to seeing when she walked down this street every day.
She noted the sky was full of dark clouds, unlike an hour ago—at least an hour ago in her time. Rachel still didn’t know if she had actually traveled back in time or if this was some cruel, distorted figment of her imagination.
She looked at the antique clockwatch again. It was still ticking and the date still read June 26, 2001.
Could I be dreaming all this? Can a dream be so vivid and real?
What other explanation could there be? People didn’t just go back in time at the drop of a hat simply because they wanted to. Rachel considered that she could be dead and in heaven. But that didn’t seem likely either. If God were behind this, she doubted her dead mother and sister would have kicked her out of the house and their lives as if she were their enemy rather than loved one.
Another possibility suddenly occurred to Rachel. Maybe somehow the forces of nature had gotten together and decided to send her back in time to save Brooke from dying in the car accident. Maybe Brooke’s life was meant to be spared so she could live to become the big sister Rachel had wanted so badly
in the future life she led.
It made sense, given the sudden appearance of the watch on the tenth anniversary of Brooke’s death and Rachel’s transport to a time she had already lived through.
Either that or I really am somewhere I don’t belong—maybe without a way to get home.
Rachel awkwardly waved at Mrs. Kellogg, a neighbor who had moved away five years ago in her time and now seemed like she was desperately trying to place her.
Trust me, you’ll never come up with the answer.
She wished she had brought her BlackBerry along for this journey. It would have been interesting to see if she could have texted Duncan and her girlfriends across time and space.
Only at the last moment did Rachel see the bike careening towards her at full speed. The boy riding it seemed fully in control and stopped on a dime, scant inches from her.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, clearly humored in having done just that.
Rachel guessed he was seven or eight. Dark, curly hair stuck out from beneath his Seattle Mariners baseball cap that was turned sideways. The chubby coffee-complexioned face looked vaguely familiar. The voice also sounded familiar, though not deep like the one she knew.
“Duncan?” Rachel’s head snapped back as though she had run into a wall.
“Yeah.” He squinted at her with deep black eyes. “Do I know you?”
Duncan McClure was Rachel’s boyfriend of six months in her time. He was seventeen and lived three blocks over. They hadn’t even met till high school. But now they were meeting way before then.
This is way too weird, even if it is a dream.
At least he was a friendly face after the hostility she had faced from her own family.
Rachel smiled at him. “You will...”
“Huh?” He squinted. “What does that mean?”
“I doubt you’d believe me if I told you, especially when I’m having trouble believing it myself. You’ll just have to take my word on this one, Duncan.”
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