Miracle at Midnight

by Stacia Wolf

  In no time at all, Nick stood beside the fallen woman. From the window he’d noticed her long, dark hair, her pale skin, but up close he had to admit she was quite beautiful. Probably a model a bit high on something. Then he glanced up at the statue.

  Or at the thin air where the statue had been. Nothing stood on the pedestal.

  He remembered now that Sami had yelled something about the statue becoming a woman. No way that could be true. But he couldn’t see any scratches or chips in the stone, something that would happen if someone had pried the heavy statue off its base.

  “Daddy!”

  He glanced up at Sami, who leaned out the window and pointed insistently at the woman. With a sigh, he knelt beside her in the thin layer of snow and felt her throat.

  Yes, one strong pulse. And some very soft skin.

  And two incredibly green eyes staring up at him.

  He jerked his hand back. The woman didn’t seem to react at all, just kept looking up at him. Then she felt around for something. He spied a cloth bundle a few feet from him. Reaching out, he grabbed it and handed it to her. She took it without a word, setting it beside her.

  “How are you feeling? You passed out.”

  She glanced at him, watching his mouth as if fascinated. Then, insanely, she giggled. “Your lips don’t match the words I hear.” She possessed a strange accent that he couldn’t quite place. Sounded European. It gave her voice a lilting quality. Then she touched her own mouth. “This is so strange.”

  Definitely high on something. He rocked back onto his heels, then stood up. “You don’t seem frightened by your fainting spell, or about waking up with a total stranger beside you.”

  She shrugged and carefully sat up. “The fainting I knew might happen.” She looked at him, as if seeing him for the very first time. “You don’t look very frightening to me. Besides, I can’t die.” She frowned slightly. “I’ve seen you before. Ah, yes, the man in the window.”

  Nick frowned. In the lamplight, with her head tilted up at him, her eyes didn’t seem dilated. Her skin hadn’t been clammy and her pulse was steady. If she were drunk, then she also hid that well. But she could be coming down from an extended high.

  “You should see a doctor, find out why you fainted.” Code for “get some help”. He almost asked her if she had a place to stay, so he could send her to a close-by shelter, but he didn’t want to get involved.

  “Isn’t that what you do?”

  “Why do you say that?”

  She nodded at the bag. “I’ve seen those before. You’re not the first one who thinks I’m a bit crazy.” Her lips curved into an ironic smile. He wondered what she’d look like if her smile reached her eyes. She’d be stunning.

  He frowned, pulling his thoughts back to the matter at hand. He couldn’t let her beauty distract him from reality here. “I don’t think you need me to diagnose what’s really wrong with you right now, do you? It’s either drugs or alcohol, or both.”

  Her brows lifted. He expected anger, or at least denial, but instead she laughed. “I wish those were my troubles. Those I could handle, but—”

  “Are you an angel?”

  Startled, Nick turned around and found his daughter standing not ten feet away. “I asked you to stay in the apartment. Go back to bed.”

  The woman ignored him, gazing instead at his little girl. She smiled, and this time it did reach her eyes. Yes, he’d been right. She was truly dazzling.

  “No,” she said, “I’m simply a woman who made some very bad choices, but I’m learning from them. Why do you think I might be an angel?”

  “Because I saw you. One minute you’re a statue, then poof!” Sami threw her hands up in the air, her eyes wide in excitement. “You’re standing there.”

  Nick expected the woman to laugh, or perhaps to make fun of her. Instead she stared at Sami in wonder, then her eyes filled with delight. “You saw me? You honestly saw me?”

  Sami nodded, rather vigorously, and the woman laughed and reached out to her. Before Nick could react, his daughter ran straight into her arms.

  Horrified, he reached for Sami, but something held him back—almost like a hand on his shoulder, but nobody stood there.

  The woman held Sami by her shoulders. Tears shimmered in her eyes. She whispered, “Once, a man stood right before me when I changed, and saw nothing. To him, the statue was still there, and I was merely a crazy woman. Yet you truly saw me. This must mean something. You must be the key to finding the answer. What’s your name?”

  “Sami.” She looked in awe at the woman, as if she truly believed she were an angel.

  “Sami. I like that name. I’m Amara de la Cortese, at your service.” She seemed to curtsey while sitting, and Sami giggled.

  Nick gritted his teeth. Enough was enough. “Listen, would you please let go of my—“

  “Sami,” Amara breathed, “Would you help me find the true meaning of love?”

  Chapter Two

  Amara sat gingerly on the edge of the bed with a sense of satisfaction. She could hear Nick Gamble moving about on the other side of the door. She imagined he still felt angry over how Sami had coerced him into letting Amara stay.

  Amara relished the smile that came while thinking of Sami’s pleas in her behalf. A statue couldn’t smile, couldn’t move, couldn’t show emotion except for the very rare tear. A smile felt like a gift from heaven.

  She couldn’t describe herself as awake while imprisoned in stone, nor could she say she was exactly sleeping. It felt more like being in a constant state of almost-awake. Some things would penetrate her awareness, like a violent act or a poignant moment. She remembered a young man fighting a Nazi for the life of a child. She remembered a woman letting go of the memory of her dead husband at Amara’s feet.

  At first, she’d hated this not-really-awake state she’d traveled through the years in. But once, she’d spent several years wide awake. She’d seen everything around her, felt every raw emotion, every change in the weather, birds’ claws in her flesh, bugs crawling about her.

  And she’d nearly gone insane.

  After the first few awakenings, she’d discovered that if she concentrated very hard, she could remember things that had happened around her during the past fifty years. It was almost like reading a book, or time-traveling. She’d learned that her disappearance had profoundly changed her brother, and he’d visited her “statue” nearly every day until his death from natural causes. He’d become a great, benevolent ruler, and his daily talks to her became precious memories.

  She’d seen the ravages of war on her now-beloved France and watched as the world changed. Tools and weapons became more advanced and deadly, people became more sophisticated and complicated, the world became more crowded. Horses were replaced by bicycles and cars, daily conversations in person were made rare by the advent of telephones, and women became more empowered.

  She wondered how the world had changed in the last fifty years, and if finding her answer on this, her last chance, would be easier or more difficult.

  Then her spirits lifted. Sami had seen her. That beautiful little girl with the most expressive eyes she’d ever known gave Amara hope that somewhere close she’d find her answer.

  And Sami somehow held the key.

  But she couldn’t bask in her hope. She had work to do. She needed to retrieve her memories, see if she could learn anything from the past.

  Closing her eyes, she thought hard about herself as a statue, then thought about the square at home, about the surroundings.

  And she saw the time flashing by. Fashions changed, familiar faces grew older, then disappeared. A face she remembered from before, the priest, looked at her in anger every day.

  She could hear snippets of conversations. “The statue is cursed. It disappears, then reappears. No one is ever caught for the crime. It needs to go.” Then a new man with the priest, also wearing a collar, gazed up at her with reverence. “I will give her a home.”

  Memories of darkness, jostli
ng, then light. She could see that face, the young priest, and the church she’d woken up to. She now knew she’d been sent to the United States, to New York City. She’d been placed on a new base and turned toward the street as if to greet people. A bench and a young tree were placed near her.

  Now the tree towered above her, and the bench had been replaced a few times. But the young priest had visited her almost daily. She watched him age, and still his eyes filled with reverence each time he looked at her.

  The priest. Another key. Amara stretched back on the bed. In the morning, she’d visit him. Perhaps he’d know something to aid her quest.

  She saw brief glimpses of Nick Gamble, first alone, then with a beautiful dark-haired woman, then with a baby. Samantha. She watched Sami grow up, watched that dark brown fuzz turn into becoming curls, then Sami and the woman disappeared, and only Nick walked by, his face dark and unapproachable.

  Amara sat up. The depth of his unhappiness, apparent even in those fleeting glimpses, disturbed her. She almost felt like a voyeur.

  She shook herself mentally. She didn’t have time to worry about Nick Gamble. She touched the bed longingly. No time for sleep either.

  Instead, she concentrated on her next steps. In the bundle were always scraps of fabric. Her memories had shown her today’s fashions. The blue scrap was probably pants or a jacket. The red, a sweater. She chose a few pieces, laid them out on the bed, then placed her hands on them. They warmed, then grew. When the heat stopped, she opened her eyes and found her first modern wardrobe.

  It took her several minutes of struggling to get in the clothes. She’d never worn pants before. The bra and panties she knew, although the bra seemed lighter and tighter, and the panties mere snippets of fabric. And the white undershirt. But the pants felt funny and only fit right when the fasteners were in front. And the sweater was cut wrong. It showed too much of the undershirt.

  A knock came at the door. Nick Gamble. Fascinating, unsmiling, suspicious Nick.

  She opened the door, and he stood there with a tray. On it sat milk and slices of bread holding what looked like impossibly thin meat and cheese.

  He stared at her, his gaze raking her up and down. She felt very naked dressed like this, in these form-fitting clothes.

  “Where did you get those?”

  She shrugged. “They were in the bundle, of course.” She smiled and mentally sent him the message that she’d say no more on the subject. She glanced at the tray. That seemed to stop him from staring at her chest.

  “I thought you might be hungry.”

  It had been fifty years since she’d last eaten, but appetite usually didn’t trouble her. “Thank you.” She reached for the tray, but he pushed past her and set it on the tiny nightstand. The room, although very small, was still bigger than the jail cells she’d put so many people in. To her, it felt like luxury.

  Nick straightened up, then turned his somber face toward her. “Please don’t make me regret letting you stay here. Sami’s only six and very naïve. If you hurt her—”

  “I could never hurt a child.” She felt regret echoing from the past. She’d hurt many people before, some were children who’d lost their parents due to her tyranny. She could see now that she’d been a monster. She should be grateful to Nicholas for changing her, but maybe if she passed his test she could feel gratitude. Right now she struggled to feel nothing where he was concerned.

  Nick stared at her for another long moment. “Do you really think you were a statue?”

  She’d learned long ago not to discuss her unusual circumstances. “I’m not crazy, or dangerous. I’m just trying to get my life back on track.”

  His gaze dug into her, as if looking for all her secrets. It made her very uncomfortable.

  “Do you have a newspaper I could read? I’m not tired.”

  He shook his head. “I get an online paper, but nothing paper.”

  “Online? What’s that?”

  He stared at her as if she’d sprouted two heads. “Online, as in on the computer.”

  Baffled, she shrugged, a gesture she’d picked up her last awakening. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “How can you…” His lips twisted into what she could only describe as a sneer. “Ah, this is part of your I-was-a-statue act. All right, I’ll play along. Come along, I’ll show you the computer.” He nodded at the tray. “Bring your snack along.”

  She picked up the tray and followed him into the main living area, where a small desk held a flat metal case. He flipped it open, pushed a few buttons, and the flat glass that covered one half lit up blue. He watched it for a moment, then sat down and started pushing buttons on the other half at a rapid rate.

  “By the way,” he asked as his fingers danced over the buttons, “how did your cohorts get that statue off the base and moved so quickly?”

  Amara didn’t answer. She couldn’t take her eyes off the glass. Images flew over it. Words, smiling faces, even tiny reindeer flying. She thought she heard bells. She set the tray down on the desk and moved closer.

  “How did you do that?” she asked, both in wonder and fear. She’d witnessed a lot of changes—airplanes and flushing toilets being two of the strangest—but this! This had to be magic. She reached out to touch the strange glass, but he grabbed her wrist.

  “No, never touch an LCD,” he said, then studied her face. “Are you trying to convince me you know nothing about computers?”

  Computer. She thought hard and could remember people walking past her saying something about them, but it made no sense. E-mail, IM, online shopping—it sounded more foreign to her than the language she now spoke.

  Nick pushed a little plastic thing around, and Amara watched as a small arrow flew across the glass.

  “I’m not buying your act. Here.” He tapped a button on the plastic thing, and a picture popped up that said New York Times. He stood then and motioned for her to sit down. “This is the paper. The navigation bar is over here.” He pushed the plastic thing, and the arrow on the glass moved.

  She read “world”, “US”, “finance” and realized she had too much to learn. Even using this strange box overwhelmed her.

  But this was her last chance, and learning as much as she could about the times she now lived in would probably help her succeed on her quest.

  It certainly couldn’t hurt.

  Nick stood and watched her as she sat down in front of the glass and gingerly touched the plastic oval. It still felt warm from his touch. Her fingers tingled; she didn’t know if it was from the thought of her fingers resting where his hand had so recently been or if the little arrow skittering across the glass petrified her.

  She wrapped her fingers around the plastic thing, like she’d seen Nick do, and tried to understand what he’d done to make the page change. The New York Times had horrific headlines—ones about wars in countries she’d never heard of, about insurgents and terrorists, about shootings and other terrible acts. She wanted to cry. Nothing had gotten better in this world. If anything, they were worse.

  She read through the list that Nick had indicated. She didn’t know where to start or how to find what she needed.

  Then she saw books and movies listed. She knew about those. A remarkable thing, movies. People on film forever, even after they were long gone. She’d seen an American movie, Never Say Goodbye. She still remembered how magnetic the actor, a Rock Hudson, had been. The person who’d taken her, a young wife missing her husband who was away for Christmas, had told her that movies showed the culture of the times.

  So she’d look at the movies, and perhaps that would give her a glimpse into this strange new world.

  She made the arrow glide over the word “Movies” and…

  Nothing happened.

  She could feel Nick Gamble watching her. He thought her a fraud or worse—someone who’d take advantage of his young daughter. She couldn’t ask him for help. He considered her an enemy. One never begged for help from the enemy.

  She waved the ar
row over the word again. Still nothing.

  Nick sighed and before she could even glance at him, his hand covered hers as he guided the oval thing. “I have to admit you’re a great actress. Here.” He made the arrow go over the word “Movies”, then pressed down on her index finger.

  The pictures changed, the words changed, and she stifled a screech. She glanced at Nick and found his face just inches from hers. His breath fanned her cheek, and her hand burned where his laid over it.

  She understood what this feeling meant. Sexual attraction. She’d never truly experienced it before. She’d married for political gain, not love. Most men of her stature had been unattractive. And on each of her nine awakenings, although she’d met a few handsome men, she’d not felt this tug, this pull.

  For an instant, she indulged herself, enjoying the sizzle where their flesh met, the way his warmth flooded her always-too-cold fingers, the feel of his arm brushing against hers. Then he spoke and she forced herself back into reality.

  Reality being she’d be a statue forever if she didn’t find Nicholas’ answer.

  “Just place the cursor over whatever you’re interested in, until it turns into a hand. Then click this button.”

  She nodded, and he straightened up, breaking contact. She sucked in a deep breath, chose a movie title that sounded interesting and did what he’d said.

  The image changed, and she smiled. Success!

  She looked up at Nick, who’d withdrawn a few feet. His frown dug furrows between his eyes.

  “Thank you.”

  He nodded. “I don’t know what your game is, but there’s no way in Hell that you were a statue. If it weren’t for my daughter—” He shook his head. “I’ll be watching you.”

  Then he left, heading to his bedroom, which was across from Sami’s and in the opposite direction from hers. She noted that he didn’t close his door.

  No matter. The fact remained that she was here, and her time ticked away rapidly. So she’d make the best of it.

  She started reading. And quickly became confused. Many of the movies were about alternate realities, or about people with super powers. Or movies where crazed things stalked and killed people. Was today’s world really filled with these kinds of people? Or was this a way for people to escape from everyday chaos?