by Mark Tufo
“Not exactly,” Peter said, feeling the warmth of her skin over his. “He’s what you might call a—well, let’s just say he’s an attorney.”
“No, go ahead. What were you going to say?” Allyson patted his hand and put it back on the rail.
Peter moved a little closer to her, hoping she noticed and hoping she didn’t. “He’s a defense attorney with a hunger for bucks, and the higher profile it is, the better he likes it. Half the clients he represents make me shudder.”
Allyson didn’t move away. “That’s what they do,” she said. “I guess unless you need one you don’t appreciate them much.”
“Hmm. You’d have to meet him.”
“I think I’ll withhold judgment on him until I do. Can’t imagine he’s too bad if he’s your brother. Especially your twin.”
“Forget the similarity myth,” Peter said, laughing. “We’re complete opposites. By the way, you haven’t told me anything about your family.”
Allyson stared at the water for a long moment before answering, then said softly, “Not a happy subject. My father’s a very dynamic personality. He never wanted me to make my own decisions, and thankfully, some of the things he pushed me into I actually enjoy.”
“Like?”
“Forensic Science. He’s got connections, and the position I hold today is largely due to his assistance. I’m damned good, but it’s not what you know, it’s—”
“Who you know,” Peter interrupted. “I’m aware of that.”
“Anyway, I’ve tried to break free from him but he still tries to run my life, you know, reminds me what I owe him.”
“What does he do?”
“He’s a sergeant with the LAPD homicide division.”
Peter suddenly felt nervous, but wasn’t exactly sure why. “Career cop?”
Allyson nodded. “And you know how they are. He only trusts other cops. Don’t take this wrong, but I already know he won’t like you just because you’re not a cop.”
“Great.”
They began walking again, and Allyson said, “How did you come to teach the toughest kids in school?”
“They’re not tough, really. They just don’t like school much and aren’t very good at hiding it. Some of them are really smart, they just need pacing that works for them.”
“I admire that. They respect you. I saw that when I was there.”
“I think so. I speak to them like they’re intelligent, which they are. Believe it or not, kids respond to that.”
“Peter Webster, you’re a good man.”
“You ever going to call me Web?”
“If you want me to. I like it. Web.”
“Emma wanted us to come by afterward, but I’m a bit hesitant.”
“Why?”
Peter shrugged, though he knew well the reason why. “We’ve come across something we’re not too sure about. Something really weird.”
“Weird can be good,” Allyson said.
“Now that’s a weird thing to say on a first date, but I’ll let that one go right by.”
“You know how there are certain rules to dating?”
“Yeah? Like what?”
“Like, you took two weeks to call me, and I was almost sure—after the first week, anyway—that you wouldn’t.”
“It was this thing with Emma that got hold of me. I would have called once I was sure it wasn’t too soon. Didn’t want to look desperate.”
“It’s a fine line, isn’t it? I’m glad you did, though. Saved me the trouble of breaking age-old tradition. What’s this thing with Emma? Serious?”
They arrived at the Toyota Highlander and he opened the door for her. As she got in, he said, “I’d say it’s serious, but it’s more mysterious than anything.”
He went around and got in the car, noticing her eyes follow him.
“Tell me about it.”
Peter didn’t start the car. Instead, he stared out the windshield a moment, wondering if he should share the mystery with Allyson. “To tell you the truth, I’m afraid of scaring you off. Emma told me to bring you by tonight, but I told her I wouldn’t take the chance.”
“Try me. I don’t scare easily.”
“That’s a cliché, you know. I took a writing class once.”
“They’re legal in conversation. Enough beating around the bush, Web. I’m going to tell you I like you. I like you a lot. But, I’ll also tell you that since I do like you, I think it would be better if we don’t sleep together tonight.”
Peter had started to turn the key, but stopped, smiling. “Wow.”
She shrugged.
“You’re sure making things easy, Allyson. I liked you before, but even more for saying that. I still won’t end the evening disappointed.”
“Call me Ally. The only one who calls me Allyson is my father, and to be frank, it drives me crazy. And since I do like you, and I’m not ready to end the evening, let’s say we go to Emma’s and you two can tell me about your mystery.”
Peter started the engine, then leaned over and kissed her on the lips. They parted, and she kissed him back. “Okay,” he said, exhilarated. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you, and I’ll hold you to your bravery.”
As he pulled the car out of the parking lot, Allyson said, “Sounds pretty dramatic, Web. I can’t wait.”
“We’ll see.” He pulled out his phone and pressed the speed dial button for Emma. She answered on the first ring.
* * * * *
“I’m glad you guys made it,” Emma said, her leg still fully encased in a walking cast. I’m hoping to become mobile enough to go with you on your next date. Come on in.”
Peter looked at Allyson for signs of embarrassment, and noticed she was looking at him for the same. They both smiled. “Maybe,” Peter said. “Ally thinks she wants to know about our little phenomenon.”
“So now it’s a phenomenon,” Allyson raised her eyebrows. “Yes, then I really want to know.”
“Sit down, you two. Peter, I’ll have you know I obeyed your order not to touch the box of pics. Somehow I knew you’d be over and figured I’d just wait.”
“I didn’t think for a minute you would, but I’m glad.” He turned to Allyson. “Ally, there’s no way to ease into this, so we’ll have to jump right in.”
“Hold on a minute,” Emma said, putting her leg up on the coffee table. “Webby, get us some wine first. Red for me. Ally?”
“Red’s good.”
Emma wagged a finger at Peter, and he brought the bottle and three glasses over and put them on the coffee table.
“We’ve found a portal to the past,” Emma said.
Allyson looked at Emma. “A what?”
“When we touch the photos in this box—well, some of them, at least—we live the scene in the picture.”
“I’ll need the wine before I can go for that,” Allyson said, smiling. “I know when I’m being screwed with.” She looked at Peter, but his face remained serious.
“I don’t blame you for thinking so, but you’re not,” Peter said. “Either it’s . . . well, I wouldn’t call two people a mass delusion, but either this thing is really happening, or we are both going crazy at the same time. We actually lived the scene in two of the photos in that box.”
“Show me.”
“You from Missouri?” Peter asked.
“Actually I am,” she said, smiling. “Is it safe?”
“Not if you live in a trailer park.”
“I’m talking about the thing with the photos.”
Peter enjoyed the interaction with Allyson, but he turned serious again. “That’s one of the problems, we’re not sure if it’s safe or not. Haven’t measured any vital signs or blood pressure, anything like that.”
Emma suddenly slapped Peter on the arm and he glared at her, trying to rub away the sting. “What the hell was that for?”
She pointed at Allyson. “Voila, Webby! You were worried about who’ll watch over me while I’m in the pictures. Allyson’s in the medical field. She can wa
tch my vitals.”
“Whoa, guys. I work on corpses.”
“Nonsense. I trust anyone who knows how to use a scalpel.”
Allyson looked back and forth between Emma and Peter. “What exactly happens when you touch these pictures?”
“We slip into kind of a trance,” Peter said. “We come out of it able to describe exactly what was happening before and after the picture was taken. We know who we were, and who we were with.”
“My God,” Allyson said.
“No joke,” Emma said. “It’s how Peter wrecked my car.”
“I didn’t tell her about that, Em.”
“What?” Allyson’s eyes were wide with amazement. “You wrecked the car?”
“She handed me one of the pictures and I got sucked right into it. I was driving her car and went straight into a ditch.”
Allyson leaned back and shook her head. She lifted the wineglass from the table and took a deep swallow. “I see what you mean,” she said to Peter. “I'm sorry, but I think you'll understand if I don't just take your word—”
“Should I take you home now?”
Allyson almost spit the mouthful of wine through her nose. She held her hand up for a moment, then shook her head frantically. “Absolutely not! If I leave here without seeing it, I won’t sleep tonight.”
“You won’t sleep if you do see it,” Emma said. “I haven’t slept well since. Thank goodness for the pain killers or I’d be up twenty-four hours a day.”
“How do we start?” Allyson asked. “You want me to go through the pictures and pick some?
Peter and Emma looked at one another. “That might be best, Ally,” Peter said.
“Yeah,” Emma added. “She can touch them safely, and we can choose which ones we want to try out.”
“I’m ready when you are,” Allyson said. She pulled the box to the base of her feet and leaned over to grab a handful of the photos. Placing them on her lap, she arranged several of the photos on the table before her.
One or two were newspaper clippings containing entertainment-type articles and photos of Lilly Morris. There were a few pictures of men, but no more of the boy on the bicycle. Most of the images she'd taken out were of the actress and camera-magnet, Lilly Morris.
“I still can’t believe I was her,” Emma said.
Allyson read one of the articles. “You weren’t . . . her, were you?”
“Pretty sure. Have to try again to know, though.”
“Mind if I choose the picture?” Allyson looked at Emma hopefully.
“Peter, you better fill up the wine again. You might need it while I’m in.” Emma looked at Allyson. “Sure, go ahead, but make it something interesting.”
“Oh, definitely.”
Peter stood. “What I want is the blood pressure monitor. Where is it?”
Emma pointed to the table by the door. “Open that. It’s just inside that panel there.”
Peter retrieved it and unpacked the components. He rolled up Emma’s sleeve and placed the band over her arm, then secured the Velcro and plugged the device in.
“This will automatically inflate, then deflate,” Emma said. “It’ll read out my blood pressure every forty-five seconds or so. Ally, you write it down, okay?”
“Got it.”
“Got the picture yet?” Emma leaned over to see.
“This is Lilly here, isn’t—”
“Yeah, that’s her. Now, I’ll just lean back . . . Ally?”
Peter looked at Emma, then realized she was staring at Allyson. “What’s wrong?”
Emma’s face drooped. All the color had drained away. “Web, look.”
Gripping the photograph between her thumb and forefinger, Allyson Newland had gone somewhere far from the room in which they sat together. Her distant eyes sparkled as she made a move to applaud, and there appeared to be a look of love . . . or something very much like it in them, too.
“Emma!” Peter didn’t know what to do. “Should we get her out?” He stood and leaned over Allyson’s shoulder. “It’s a picture of Lilly! Why is she inside?”
Emma leaned forward to see the picture. “See that arm there? To Lilly’s left? It’s another woman, Web! Quick, help me sit up. I need to touch the picture.”
Peter moved to the other side of the couch and helped Emma up. He propped a mound of pillows behind her back and slid the coffee table closer to her. “Can you reach it now?”
“I think so,” Emma said. “Keep a monitor on my blood pressure. I have to learn at least that much.”
“Take a corner of the picture, Em. Don’t go far, okay?”
Emma looked at Peter. “Can’t promise anything yet,” she said. “Kisses.”
She took the photo, and her awareness of the present disappeared.
Peter flipped the switch on the blood pressure pump and readied his pen. Not one to pray, he did anyway.
CHAPTER FOUR
Ellen Carver smiled and clapped her hands along with the other onlookers outside the Laguna Beach church. The so-called Hollywood reporters, ever present when Lilly Morris was around, did not make an exception because it was a day of rest and praise.
“Yes, the picture is done, and you shall all see the premier before very long,” Lilly said.
“Give us a little preview!” one reporter shouted.
“Sorry! Come along, Ellen. Chris’s waiting inside, I’m sure.”
They walked beneath the portico and entered the front door of the church, where just inside a handsome gentleman stood to the side on the beautiful mosaic tile floor, analyzing it nervously.
Ellen looked around. Surely this couldn’t be the man Lilly had spoken of. He was as handsome as . . . well, as handsome as Errol Flynn! Tall, wonderful eyes, a dream!
“Oh, Chris! I’m glad you’ve waited as I asked. I’d like you to meet my good friend. Chris Wickham, this is Ellen Carver. Ellen, I’d like to introduce you to Chris.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Wickham.” She held out her gloved hand and he took it in his.
Smiling, he said “Please, call me Chris. Have you attended this church before, Miss Carver?”
She shook her head. “No . . . I’d like to attend more, but my father—”
“Is a very successful business man and keeps Ellen out of town frequently,” Lilly cut in. “Oh, there’s Father Mattingly. Don’t either of you move.” She hurried over to the priest, drawing the attention of half the people in the church.
“She’s everything that she is on the movie screen,” Chris said. “Imagine my surprise when I discovered she joined our church.”
“She’s a good person and a good friend,” Ellen said. “So, may I ask what you do for a living?”
“I’m a painter,” Chris said.
“A painter of houses? Buildings?”
“Oh no,” he said, laughing. “I always forget to make that clear. I’m an artist. I do portraits. How about yourself? Do you travel constantly?”
Ellen liked the way his eyes sparkled when he laughed. He kept his arms folded in front of him as though self conscious, and his smile was indeed shy.
“No, actually. Well, some,” she added, remembering what Lilly had told him. “I’m a waitress, really. My father owns the restaurant and I demanded something to do that might get me out of the house.”
“He’s protective of you then?”
Ellen nodded. “As much as it irritates me, yes.”
Lilly came toward them, the priest beside her. “Chris, have you already met Father Mattingly?”
“Yes, I have. I only joined the congregation a month ago, but he made me feel welcome immediately. Thank you for that, Father. It’s nice to see you again.”
“Don’t mention it, Chris. The church is a family,” he said, folding his hands together before his black robes. “Lilly, you’ve brought someone new to our flock I see.”
Ellen smiled as the priest looked on. “Yes, Father. My name is Ellen Carver. You have a lovely church.”
“Can’t claim it
as my own, though I’d be proud,” he said, returning her smile. “It’s the Lord’s house, I simply take care of the guests and tell them about the wishes of the owner. I’m a glorified butler.”
“Very clever, Father. I suppose we’ll take our seats now and enjoy your sermon.”
“If I’m lucky, Lilly. If I’m very lucky. Nice to have met you, Ellen. I do hope we’ll see much more of you.” He nodded and walked to an alcove nearby, disappearing behind a curtain.
“Good looking, isn’t he?” Lilly said. “Joshua Mattingly. And so young for a priest.”
“Lilly! He’s a man of the cloth, for Heaven’s sake!” Ellen smiled, feigning shock.
“But he’s still a man,” Chris said. “I’ve heard stories about the good Father.”
Ellen looked at him and widened her eyes. “If they’re stories my father wouldn’t want me to hear, you’ll have to tell them without delay,” she said.
Chris laughed again. “This isn’t the time or place, Ellen, but I would love to tell you over dinner sometime.”
* * * * *
Peter checked Emma's blood pressure. It had dropped to the low end of what Emma had told him was acceptable. Now, how to bring them out? Allyson had been in longer, so he tried something he had thought of earlier. He reached out and took her hand, moving each finger from the photographic paper until only her thumb and forefinger remained clamped to it.
“Ally,” he whispered. “Ally, I’m bringing you out, now.” He pulled the picture from her fingers and watched her face carefully.
Her eyes panicked for a moment, then she looked at Peter and gasped. “Chris! What happened to the—”
Peter put his arm around her shoulder and held her. “It’s okay, Ally. You were inside for a while. In the picture.”
“My God!”
“That’s what we said, Ally. I take it you’re a believer now.”
She looked at Emma. “She’s still at the church.”
“That’s where you were?”
“Yes . . . I met Chris there. And Father Mattingly.”