Wrong Face in the Mirror: A Time Travel Romance (Medicine Stick Series)

by Bartholomew, Barbara

  Wrong Face in the Mirror

  Barbara Bartholomew

  Wrong Face in the Mirror

  Published by Barbara Bartholomew at Amazon Kindle

  Copyright 2013 by Barbara Bartholomew

  Cover Design by Cover Shot Creations

  covershotcreations@gm.com

  Books by the Author

  The House Near the River

  The Ghost and Miss Hallam (Lavender series)

  Letters From Another Town (Lavender series)

  Leaving Lavender (Lavender series)

  Lavender Blue (Lavender series)

  By The Bay

  At This Time of Year (novella)

  Nightmare Kingdom

  For Younger Readers

  The Time Keeper (Timeways series)

  Child of Tomorrow (Timeways series)

  When Dreamers Cease to Dream (Timeways series)

  The Second Jeep Harris

  Dreams of Earth

  Finding Endymion

  Royal Blood

  Princess Alice

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  As she drove to her hometown Hart couldn’t help but think how strange it was that she could remember her favorite book was Rumer Godden’s Take Three Tenses but had trouble recalling her own name.

  Hart Benson. Hart Benson. That was her name or so everybody told her, even though it never seemed to actually fit. But her memory of that name was lost with whatever accident or illness had robbed her of the past.

  And she knew how to drive a car, though her foot automatically reached for the clutch as she slowed down to the stop where she would turn south to her destination in the western Oklahoma town of Mountainside.

  She had a home and family there; again that was what she was told. After months in a care center, she was going back to the place where she belonged.

  But she remembered none of it, not the prairie farms that she passed, nor the towns she went through, driving herself like the grownup she was for the first time since she’d come to consciousness in the hospital.

  Only when she reached the town of her destination did she feel the same flicker of recognition that had allowed her to remember her favorite book, set during World War II in London and featuring a lost love affair. The houses, even the streets were unfamiliar to her, but the ancient mountains hanging so close to the town, scraped bare by the winds and waters of centuries were another matter. She knew these mountains; they were bred into her very being.

  But she didn’t know why. She remembered nothing of her history here.

  The man on the phone who said he was her brother told her to look for 411 Mountainside Road. It was, he’d said, the street next to the mountain.

  He’d wanted to come for her and to bring her himself from the rehab center in Oklahoma City, but she’d laughingly told him she was perfectly able to drive herself across a couple of hours of western Oklahoma countryside. So he’d agreed that they would be here waiting for her, him and his family. Her family.

  The truth was she’d wanted a little time to herself between leaving the cloistered environment of the facility that had housed her since she’d been dismissed from the hospital and joining these Bensons who said she belonged with them.

  As far as that went, Hart felt she was being sent to live with strangers.

  When she’d refused to see them, saying she had no idea who they were, they’d sent photos of a man who looked to be about thirty. He had cotton blond hair beginning already to fade back from his forehead, a broad plain face with a wide nose, and a smile that made you want to like him.

  His wife, her sister-in-law supposedly, had straight brown hair clipped close to her head in a well-shaped cut. Fun sparkled in her eyes and from a mischievous grin.

  And there were two little girls: both of whom looked like the man who said he was her brother. Mandy was eight, the letter that came with the pictures said, and Christy was six.

  It was hot, dry summer, the hottest and driest since the 1930s the television news had reported and she saw little attractive about the landscape. The grass across the sprawling pastures was dried out and brown. The black cattle in the fields hid under the shade of an occasional tree, seeking refuge from the burning sun. Half eaten haystacks showed they were being fed in late August when fresh green grass should be providing their meals.

  Ponds were dry, crusty with long dried mud, and creeks showed only a puddle now and then where the last rain, probably in April or May, had left a trace of water.

  The landscape seemed without color, tones of beige and brown prevalent everywhere. The center of the state had been rich in greens and the variegated colors of the crops, but here it was like a black and white film, like Kansas before Dorothy swirled away to the colors of Oz.

  Hart felt her spirits sink. She shouldn’t have come, she didn’t want to be here in this terrible place, condemned to live with strangers. And yet, what choice had she? They’d made that quite clear at the care center. She had just recovered from major trauma and her brother had promised her a home, family and even had found a job for her.

  Now with the low mountains in the distance clearing from the hazy purple that formed their identity from a distance into close up gray with huge granite boulders and only scraggly growth peering between the cracks in the rocks, she knew she was closing in and only wished she could turn the little rental car around and head back to the city she’d left behind.

  She didn’t feel like she belonged here. Nothing in her sensed familiarity, not even in the dusty dry air she breathed.

  Then she rounded a curve and was there.

  The town of Mountainside lay in the shadow of the mountains and the street where Tommy Benson lived was huddled right next to one of them, so close that she wondered that the huge boulders didn’t tumble into his yard.

  The modest home had been built from the granite itself and fit neatly into the monotone look of the land. She drove her car in next to a bright red pickup truck and came to a stop, her heart pounding the message, ‘not here, not here’ with each beat. Strangely she felt the rising of something almost like fear.

  How could that be when she was coming home to her own family, people who wanted and loved her, or so they said?

  The instant she turned off the engine, a child’s voice shouted, “She’s here! Aunt Hart is here?”

  A scrawny, wide-faced girl well-covered with freckles and wearing shorts and a t-shirt ran from the porch to stand staring in her car window with open curiosity. Here it comes, Hart thought. Have to face up to your new life, my girl.

  She stepped out, leaving behind the lingering cool of the air conditioned car, coming out to a blazing hot sunlit day that seemed so lacking in air that she could hardly breathe.

  The child stared at her, neither friendly or unfriendly, and Hart felt a
s if she had been rebuffed. This girl didn’t look like somebody welcoming home a dearly beloved aunt.

  By the time she had both feet on the ground, the others came out of the house to greet her. A broadly built man with fair skin with a reddish tint and that cotton blond hair, a short plump woman, and another little girl who looked much like the other one, though younger, stood looking at her, wide rather nervous smiles on their faces. Then the man took her in his arms for a bear hug that made her feel even more uncomfortable. “Welcome home, Hart,” he said, stepping back from the hug to look into her face.

  She tried to smile. “You must be Tommy,” she said, feeling totally inadequate. This was not, surely, how you were expected to greet family members you hadn’t seen in months.

  “And I’m Nikki.” The woman stepped up, giving Hart a strong handshake, her broad face glowing with apparent good humor.

  “Nice to meet you,” Hart heard her own voice as something disassociated from herself as though she were an onlooker and not a participant in this scene. She smiled at the girls. “And this must be Mandy and Christy.”

  The two girls continued to regard her with a mixture of solemnity and what looked like fear. Why should they be afraid of her? Immediately she answered her own question. Because they’d heard the stories of how she’d been found nearly dead on a street in Oklahoma City, over a hundred miles from her home, and that when she’d awakened in the hospital she hadn’t known who she was or where she came from.

  Her brother must be a brave man to bring such an enigma into his home with his wife and small daughters.

  Tommy insisted on getting her one bag out of the car and leading the way into the house, Nikki walking at her side and the two girls following.

  The inside of the rock house was artificially cooled, feeling somewhat dark and cave-like. It wasn’t a large house and she supposed it must be a sacrifice for the family to make a place for her here, but even the rooms with their well-worn furnishings struck no notes of familiarity in her mind. And yet she must have been here many times.

  “I’m hungry,” Christy said. “We’ve waited and waited. Can’t we go eat now?”

  Guiltily Hart guessed she must be later than expected. She had driven rather slowly, feeling stiff and uncomfortable in the rental car and though she was told she had a driver’s license and should be ready to drive again, she had proceeded with caution and had a feeling of too much speed as trucks raced past her and other drivers honked at her turtle-like movement. The seventy mile per hour limit on the interstate highway had seemed impossible to achieve and, a few miles out of the city, she’d taken to side roads, looking at her map as she cut across country, relaxing a little on narrow, sparsely traveled country roads.

  Now she quickly apologized. “I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have delayed your meal.”

  “It’s okay,” Mandy spoke for the first time. “But we’re going for pizza and Christy and me like pizza.

  “So do I,” Hart returned, managing a little smile.

  “But can you remember pizza?”

  “Mandy!” her dad reprimanded. Apparently they’d been coached not to remind Hart of her condition.

  “Actually I didn’t,” she responded honestly. “But we’ve had it at the care center so I know what it is now.”

  “What’s a care center?” Mandy asked.

  She’d forgotten about children and their open curiosity. “Kind of like a hospital but you don’t have to stay in your bed all the time. They help you get well.”

  “Are you well now then? Mom said you don’t ‘member things,” this time Christy spoke.

  The smile faded from Hart’s lips, but she tried to keep things light. “I’m on my way,” she said.

  “Mom’s afraid you’re dangerous,” Mandy said.

  “Mandy!” her mother’s face flushed a deep red as she scolded her older daughter. “Oh, Hart, I didn’t mean . . .”

  “It’s all right,” Hart interrupted. “I understand what you meant.” She was only being polite because she didn’t understand at all. What was there about losing your past that made you any kind of threat? She could only suppose that for some people anybody different was scary.

  Her opinion of her sister-in-law dropped a notch however. They didn’t want her here. They’d only taken her in because of a sense of family obligation.

  She wished she could crawl away and hide in a hole somewhere.

  Chapter Two

  It was only a few blocks to the pizza place in downtown Mountainside, but they all piled into Tommy’s truck and drove there. Hart was given the place of honor next to her brother, squeezed in between him and his wife while the two girls took the rear seat.

  The residential streets were mixed with modest houses and newer double-wide mobile homes. Occasionally a house was derelict, its roof bare of shingles and sides beginning to tumble in. The downtown was composed of a short block containing Ye Old Antiques, a little florist shop, a hardware store, a small grocery and Pizza Plus, which was their apparent destination.

  She saw a fire station and a narrow white building labeled ‘City Hall’ next to a U.S. Postal Office. That was pretty much the extent of the shopping district in Mountainside and except for the post office all the buildings were faded and shabby, kind of downhome chic in a way that appealed to her.

  None of it felt like home though.

  The spicy scent of baking pizza welcomed them into the little restaurant as Hart followed Nikki inside. The booths and tables were by no means full at this early hour, but a large family group was seated at the big table in the back and two of the booths were occupied by couples.

  She felt as though everyone was staring at her and looked down as Nikki led them to the other larger table. Hart found a chair and was surprised when the two girls seated themselves on either side of her.

  It was anything other than comfortable as they settled into place and Tommy ordered two large pizzas and drinks for each of them from a gum-chewing teen waitress who seemed to know all their names, even Hart’s.

  “Good to see you back, Hart,” she said.

  Hart smiled politely. “It’s good to be back,” she lied.

  After the girl left to turn in their order, she leaned across the table to ask Tommy, “Who was that girl? Should I know her?”

  He took on a look of mild embarrassment. “You babysat Cully when she was little. Cully Rodgers is Allie and Kent’s girl. They’re our next door neighbors.”

  Mandy glanced at her with interest. “I love pepperoni pizza,” she said, and then, without pause, went on, “Do you remember me, Hart? Do you remember Mom and Dad?”

  “Do you member me, Aunt Hart?” the younger Christy followed up her sister’s question while her mother shook her head.

  Tommy said, “Don’t you girls have an ounce of tact anywhere in your bodies?” he asked in a growly voice. “Sorry, Hart.”

  She decided she liked it better this way, right out front and direct. “I’m sorry, girls, but I don’t remember anybody, not even me.”

  They went silent as iced drinks were placed in front of them. Hart took a sip of her own and found it to be sweet tea. She’d learned she liked iced tea and apparently Tommy and maybe even their young neighbor Cully knew that fact.

  “How can you not remember you?” Mandy demanded.

  Hart shrugged. “Beats me.”

  Both of them grinned at her as though she’d said something funny and for the first time she didn’t feel so stiff and uncertain, at least not with the two little girls seated on either side of her.

  She was beginning her second slice of pizza, amused that the two skinny little girls were already on to their third pieces when the door swung open and three men entered.

  Two of them wore uniforms, but the third was in jeans, western shirt with a star pinned on it, cowboy boots and he removed a large western-style hat from his head as he followed the others in.

  Like a sharp pain, knowledge ran through her. She knew this man, knew him very well. H
is face didn’t show much of what he felt, she guessed that, but a flash of surprise that was no more than a widening of gray eyes and a twist of his mouth showed when his gaze met hers and then strong features froze.

  He knew her and didn’t like her. The sense that she knew him faded, leaving her in confusion. He nodded and walked past to take a seat at a booth in the back.

  The two other men, both of them looking to be in their early twenties, stopped at their table, seeming embarrassed. “Tommy,” one of said, “Nikki. Girls.”

  The second one said, “Good to see you again, Hart,” with a little too much enthusiasm.

  Tommy mumbled their names in such a low voice that Hart didn’t catch them and they hurried on past, obviously glad to get by an awkward situation. She supposed she would be going through a whole lot of those in the next few days as she met people who had a right to expect her to know their names and history, but were total strangers to her.

  She’d better start learning names. With that in mind, she leaned closer to Tommy. “What did you say their names are?” she asked in a low voice.

  “Rick Jameson and Tony Jones,” he said. “They’re our town constables.” He grinned. “The only law in Mountainside.”

  “Rick and Tony,” she memorized. “And the tall dark man who looks like an Indian?”

  Nobody said anything and they seemed glad for the interruption when the young waitress approached to refill their drinks

  She couldn’t help wondering if the dark man was somebody her brother disliked. Certainly he hadn’t seemed to look at him with any favor.

  Christy bounced on her chair in her eagerness to see her mother place another serving of pizza on her plate, but Mandy stared past her aunt at the men in back as the waitress approached to take their order.

  “He’s the sheriff,” she said. “Do you truly not remember your own husband, Hart?”

  Everything went into slow motion as she took this in: Nikki serving pizza and carefully not looking at her, Tommy’s face taking on a deeper reddish hue, the waitress—her name was Cully—joking and laughing with the two younger men while the older one sat stoically.