Time Tantrums

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Time Tantrums Page 14

by Ginger Simpson


  “Well, thanks a lot.”

  “You know what I meant. I’m very thankful you’ve been so supportive. I know this has been just as hard on you. Every morning, when I wake, I wish I could explain all this away. I’ve run everything through my mind a million times and still come up with nada, nothing, zip!”

  “I suppose all three of those words mean the same thing?”

  “Oh dear, you’re starting to figure me out.” She chuckled. “You do have to agree since I’ve been here, you have learned some new words.”

  “That’s for sure, but some I prefer not to use.”

  “Listen, I’ve toned it down a lot.” She reached for a kitchen towel and wrapped it around the ends of her drippy hair. “You have no idea how bad it could have been.”

  They both laughed. Taylor gazed into Frank’s eyes and realized they’d just shared something. “Look at us. We’re laughing like nothing is wrong.”

  “I know, it actually felt good, didn’t it?”

  She nodded. “But that doesn’t change things, does it? We can enjoy each other as long as we understand we’re married to other people. I know it must be hard for you because I look like your wife, but as handsome as you are, you aren’t my David—and I miss him.”

  “Believe me, I do understand. You may look like my Mariah, but I’m finally seeing you’re really nothin’ like her.”

  “Really? And how are we different?” She was pretty sure she already knew.

  “Mariah is a prim and proper lady. I’ve never heard her say a cuss word. Even when she’s mad at me, she won’t argue. You’re a tad bit too spirited and mouthy.”

  Taylor put her hands on her hips. “Mouthy? You haven’t even seen the real me.”

  “From where I’m standing, I see quite a bit of you.”

  She glanced down and realized her towel had fallen to the floor. “Gee, I guess I have become way too comfortable with you.”

  He chuckled. “It appears that way. Why don’t we change into something comfortable, have a bite to eat and talk a little more? This is nice.”

  “Okay, deal. Last one up the stairs has to cook.” Before she finished the challenge, she darted for the staircase, leaving Frank standing in the kitchen.

  “Hey,” he called after her. “I said we could have a bite to eat. I didn’t say I would cook.”

  Taylor reached the landing, laughing and out of breath. He had no idea how lucky he was to lose the contest.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Denver, Colorado—2002

  Dr. Ramone pulled the draperies closed, making her office even darker. She showed Mariah to the chaise along the wall. “Please lie down and get comfortable.”

  Doing as instructed, she reclined but fidgeted, trying to find the right position. She gazed up and grimaced at the ugly painting hanging above her and wondered why someone would frame a bunch of circles and splashes. With eyes closed, she willed her heartbeat to slow.

  At the sound of the doctor pulling her chair closer, Maria stiffened. She expelled a silent breath. What had she agreed to?

  “Now, my dear, I want you to listen very closely.” The woman’s tone helped Mariah relax. “Are you comfortable?”

  Mariah opened her eyes and nodded. “Yes.”

  “Listen to my voice and do as I say. I want you to focus on deep and even breathing, feel each inhalation flowing through your entire body. Starting with your toes. Pictures them in your mind, then sense the muscles under the skin relaxing, and let your toes feel free. Now moving up to your ankles. Notice any stress in that part of your body, and as you listen to my voice, feel that tension go away.”

  “Now, we’re traveling up your thighs, into your hips. Let any tightness fade away as you relax your muscles. Everything is limp. Feel that sensation moving up, up, up your body. When I count to three, I want you to close your eyes and be totally relaxed. You will answer my questions freely, without fear. You’re safe and nothing can harm you. One… two… three.”

  Mariah wasn’t sure she wanted to proceed. She struggled to keep her eyes open, but they obediently closed. The doctor’s voice commanded and Mariah’s body obeyed. She couldn’t move her arms, and her legs felt leaden.

  “Mariah, do you hear me?” Dr. Ramone asked.

  “Yes.” Her voice was a mere whisper.

  “We’re going to travel backwards. Time is reversing before your eyes—rolling back. Still relaxed and safe, I want you to look closely as the years pass and tell me what you see.”

  “Frank. Oh, Frank darling.”

  “You see someone named Frank? Who is he?”

  “He’s my husband.”

  “What’s he doing?”

  “He’s helping me into the wagon. We’re going to town.”

  “Are you alone?”

  “No, our children, Callie and Jacob, are in the back.”

  “What year is it now, Mariah?”

  “It’s 1872 of course.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “In Colorado.”

  “Are you in the wagon?”

  “Yes, and we’re leaving the yard. We’re leaving the Rocking C.”

  “The Rocking C? Is that what you call your home?”

  “Yes. The C stands for Cassidy.”

  “Okay, Mariah, you’re in the wagon and you’re going to town. Tell me what’s happening?”

  “Jacob has to go to the bathroom.” Fear gripped at Mariah. “Oh my goodness, he frightened some snakes... The horses…the horses won’t quiet down. Frank, make them quiet down. It’s scaring me.”

  “Relax, Mariah, you’re safe. Relax and tell me what you see,” Dr. Ramone spoke in a soothing voice.

  Mariah took a deep breath but her heart pounded like the hoof beats in her mind. “The horses…they’re running... running fast. Frank can’t stop them. Yes, yes, Frank, I’m holding on. Hold on, children. Oh dear God, we’ve hit something. Help me...”

  Dr. Ramone touched Mariah’s arm, “Deep breath, Mariah, relax. We’re going to stop now. When I count to three, you’ll open your eyes and remember everything we’ve talked about, but you’re going to feel fine. One… two… three.”

  Mariah blinked a few times.

  Dr. Ramone put her pad and pen aside, got up and opened the draperies. Muted light filtered in through the sheers. She turned to Mariah. “Do you remember what we talked about?”

  Mariah sat, put her feet on the floor and fluffed the back of her hair. “Yes, my heart is still pounding like a hammer on an anvil.”

  Dr. Ramone looked at David, sitting quietly in the corner. “Mr. Morgan, what do you think about what you heard?”

  He ran his fingers through his hair, his eyes wider than usual. “Her recounting sounded so real, even my heart is pounding. There’s no way she could imagine all this, is there, Doctor?”

  “Not in my opinion. Hypnosis is usually very hard to fake, and people in a total state of relaxation tend to be very truthful—even if they don’t want to be.”

  David stood and walked to the window. Pushing the sheer curtain aside he peered out for a moment then turned to face Dr. Ramone. “What do you make of it? What’s your opinion?”

  The therapist sat back down. “I’m not sure I have one yet. This is even a little startling for me. In Mariah’s mind it really is 1872. I think I need to digest this a little more. What say we stop for today and make another appointment to take Mariah back where we left off?”

  * * * *

  David pulled the car into the garage and hit the button to close the door. As usual, he came around to let Mariah out. “Well, here we are. How are you feeling?”

  She planted both feet firmly on the cement and stood. Her knees still felt weak. “No more confused than I was, but no less either.”

  He opened the back door and followed her inside. “Do you think Dr. Ramone helped at all?”

  “Do you?”

  David went to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of beer. “I could use one of these. Would you like one?”


  “No thanks. I tried one. Don’t much like the taste. I think I’ll stick with Pepsi.” She reached around him and grabbed a can. “So, do you?”

  “Do I what?”

  “Think Dr. Ramone helped the situation?”

  “I’m not sure. It was certainly… stimulating to watch you undergo hypnosis. I’ve never seen it done before. How did it feel?” David popped open the beer bottle and jumped up to sit on the counter.

  Mariah filled a glass with ice and emptied her soda into it. After a drink, she wiped her lips with the back of her hand. “It was strange. I heard her talking to me, saw everything so clearly in my mind, yet I could only do what she asked of me.”

  “Do you have a problem going back again?” he asked. “Remember, we have a second appointment day after tomorrow.”

  “I don’t mind going back, but I’m not sure what good it’s going to do. I woke up in a strange place and I’ve been here ever since. I have memories of a husband who looks nothing like you, but you tell me I look exactly like your wife. If you say I’m confused, I have to agree.”

  “I think both of feel that way. I know seeing Doctor Ramone is difficult for you, but we have to find out if things are going to stay this way. I need to go back to work. It takes money to live. As much as I would like to stay home every day, I can’t. The company has been kind enough to let me take family leave, and luckily we have money in the bank to cover our expenses. But it won’t last forever.”

  Mariah shook her head. “You know, I don’t even know where you work or what you do. How strange. We’ve shared a home and our lives for over a month—even shared a bed—but there’s still so much I don’t know about you.”

  David jumped off the counter. “Well, maybe it’s time we have a long talk and take care of that. If things don’t change, we may have a quite a while to get to know one another better, but we can still start now. Let’s go in the living room where it’s more comfortable.”

  He kicked off his shoes and leaned back in his recliner. Mariah sat caddy corner to him and nestled in the comfort of the pillow-back sofa, her feet tucked under her. She pondered David’s statement about how long they might have to get to know each other. “About what you said in the kitchen... You know, we might be together a long time. How do you feel about that?”

  David moved his chair back into a semi-reclining position. “I’m not sure. The only thing that has been different is the inner you. When I look at you, I see my beautiful Taylor. You are her in almost every way... better in some. So, the hard part for me is knowing you really aren’t my wife and trying to make myself understand how that could be.”

  “You say I’m like her in almost every way? What ways am I not?”

  “You have a softer side. Taylor is a spirited, ambitious, working woman. She isn’t a homemaker. Doesn’t like to cook or clean—she will, but she grumbles. Like I told you, she isn’t a very good cook at all. You really outshine her there.”

  Mariah felt herself heat at his compliment and lowered her eyes. “Thank you. Frank loves my cooking, too. But there’s got to be something that drew you to her. Go on, tell me more about Taylor.”

  He locked his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. “She works mostly with men every day. Taylor’s an attorney and earns a good living. She’s had to learn to be aggressive to survive in the business world, and being an only child, she already had a temperamental streak.”

  Mariah was about to ask him to explain being an attorney when a ringing doorbell interrupted.

  David disappeared in the foyer. When he came back, he carried a large bouquet of spring flowers in a crystal vase. “These are for you.”

  “Mariah’s eyes widened. “For me?”

  He sat them on the coffee table, picked the card from among the leaves and held it out to her. “Do you want to open it?”

  She took the envelope and slid the card from inside. “It says, ‘Get well soon. We miss you. Your pals at the office.’ What pals at the office?” She flashed him a puzzled look.

  David plopped back down in his chair. “Well, I’ll be darned. I never would have guessed they’d be this sensitive. After all the things Taylor’s told me about them, I assumed they’d been too busy to notice she was gone. Oh, what pals? The guys who work with Taylor at the law firm. I believe she refers to them as jerks.”

  Mariah leaned forward and inhaled the fragrant aroma. “They’re lovely. I’ve never seen such a big bunch of flowers. How in the world did they find such beautiful ones?”

  “I guess you wouldn’t know about florists. They’re people who sell flowers for special occasions—like this…get well wishes, also weddings and funerals. They probably rake in a lot from husbands who need to make up with their wives. People pay, they deliver.”

  “Oh, my goodness. Who would ever think of such a thing? Flowers should be free to whoever wants them. When I wanted some, I just went out for a walk and picked them where they grew.”

  “Well, things have changed. People find all kinds of ways to make money these days. Most people don’t have time to grow flowers, let alone pick them.”

  “I guess it takes more money today. I’m embarrassed to admit that I don’t know much about the cost of things. Is that why you and Taylor both work?” She leaned back. “You have a very exciting life.”

  “Exciting? There’s nothing exciting about both people working full time. You barely see each other. It seems the more you earn, the more you spend. Everybody wants to outdo everyone else. If someone has a pool, then someone else gets a pool and spa. If someone gets a new car, someone else has to have a bigger, better, more expensive one. The same with homes, televisions… almost everything. We’ve become a very materialistic race.” He sighed. “What else do you want to know?”

  “I don’t know. Just keep talking. I’m learning about my future.”

  He smiled. “Well, let’s see. Taylor is pushy, mouthy and has two bad habits that drive me crazy: being late and cussing like a drunken sailor. But, I love her so much. You wanted to know what drew me to her? She makes me laugh. She keeps me sane when it seems everything else around me is crazy. And did I mention how aggressive she is in the—”

  David stopped short, a sheepish look on his face.

  “In?”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to say something improper.”

  “You were going to say in the bedroom, weren’t you?”

  “How did you know?”

  “Because I’m not and I know it. I’m sure you noticed when you came to my bed the other night. I’m afraid I’m just not comfortable with my sharing myself.”

  “Mariah, I’ve apologized already, but I really am sorry for being so pushy.”

  She stared into her lap. “I understand. We all have needs. I’m probably not as forward as most men would like their wives to be, but I was brought up in a different time and place. Acting brazenly is considered improper. My mother was very straight-laced and I had strict rules to follow until I married Frank. Then, I didn’t know anything about the facts of life, so what I do know I learned from him.” She raised her gaze and shrugged. “He never complains and always acts like he’s still in love with me, so I guess I’m tolerable.”

  David peered into her eyes. “Tolerable? You’re more than tolerable. You’re a passionate, beautiful woman. There’s nothing wrong with being different. I’m sure if you stay in this century, you’ll find out more about sex than you ever wanted to know. It’s everywhere—billboards, movies, television, books.”

  “Do you think I’m going to stay here and never see my Frank again?” Tears welled in her eyes. “Or my children? I have two precious children. What must they being doing without their mother?”

  “Please, don’t cry! I don’t think we have much control over the situation. We sure as hell don’t understand it. Maybe it’s a time travel thing. I’ve read about the possibility, but never believed in it, but now...”

  “Time travel? I’ve never even heard of such a
thing, but if there is, I definitely believe in it. How else would you explain my being here instead of where I belong in 1872 with my family? One minute I’m there and the next minute I’m here. How else can you explain it?” She nibbled her bottom lip.

  “I can’t, that’s the problem. I have no explanation, no remedy, no cure, and no expectations at this point. I want you to be able to return to your family, honestly. Believe it not, I want my pushy, opinionated, veraciously sexy wife back. I’m even willing to give up your great food.”

  Mariah smiled. “Well, that’s what I call sacrifice.” She sighed. “Looks like we need to see Dr. Ramone again and give it one more shot. Maybe there’s some little thing I’m overlooking.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Colorado Territory—1872

  With their plates empty, Frank and Taylor sat at opposite ends of the table and relaxed to let dinner digest. She rubbed her stomach. “You know, you really are a very good cook. Mariah is lucky.”

  “Thanks. She taught me most of what I know. I don’t cook very often because she loves to.”

  Taylor giggled. “Well, that’s where we really differ. I hate anything to do with the kitchen.”

  Frank leaned his chair back onto its two rear legs, dug into his shirt pocket for a small sliver of wood, and picked at his front teeth. “I kind of got that feeling since you tend to avoid this part of the house.”

  Feeling a little ashamed, Taylor immediately got up and began clearing the table. “How about a cup of coffee in the parlor where it’s a little more comfortable?”

  “Sounds good to me. I’ll pour.” Frank started toward the stove.

  Taylor reached over and grabbed the pot. “Oh no, I’ll pour. I want no more of your comments about my kitchen skills.”

  She filled his cup and followed him into the other room.

  Frank stood next to the fireplace, leaned against the mantel and looked up at the picture of Mariah. He glanced at Taylor, sitting in the side chair, then at the picture. “You know, now that I really look at you, there is something different about you and Mariah. It’s something around your eyes.”

 

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