As I Breathe (One Breath at a Time: Book 2) (45 page)

A feeling of doom crashed over me. If by some freak of nature, I had time-traveled how do I get home? Where was Rain now?

My heart dropped and then stopped beating when I heard beneath my pillow my phone vibrating. I quickly retrieved it. Finally someone was calling me. This was a good sign, a rational sign that made sense. Cell phones didn’t exist in 1946 and neither did AT&T’s service. I bit out a nervous laugh of relief.

On the screen was a number that didn’t link up to any of my contact names. My fingers shook as I hit the answer call button.

“Hello?” I hesitantly asked, truly expecting, hoping, to hear laughter and voices calling out “we got you good.” What a cruel joke, but one that would put an end to this nightmare.

“
Hello, Brielle.” I immediately recognized the woman’s strong Irish accent.

“
Is this Mary?” I asked. Apprehension filled my voice. What did she want? A fine time for her to call.

“
It is,” she confirmed in a low husky voice.

Anxiety leaped forward with the quick realization that she was my chance out of this place. “Oh my God, you have to help me. Something is terribly wrong. You need to call my family,” I said, lowering my panic to a whisper, concerned that someone might hear me.

“Slow up, dear,” she asserted. Didn’t she mean slow down? I didn’t have time to analyze her annoying oxymorons. “That’s why I’m calling you.”

“
What? You know what’s going on? Is this some kind of joke? I’m done playing. I need to get out of here.”

“
Oh dear, yes, I know. You’re in a real pickle, I would say.”

“
No kidding. This quack is claiming that it’s 1946, which is impossible?” I shrieked, forgetting to whisper.

“
Well, true, but not impossible. Don’t you remember?”

“
Remember what? Please...I need your help, I can’t take this place much longer.” I choked back the tears and fear that I’ve been holding at bay for days. “I’m about to explode.”

“
I only have a minute, the service is weak, after all—but all I can say is you better do some quick remembering and explain to the doctor in a New York minute-maid, or is that meter maid minute...”

“
Huh? No, it’s a New York minute...” I corrected her.

“
What?” she said, her voice mingled with static on the phone.

“
It’s...just a minute. A New York minute,” I said, the iciness evident in my tone.

“
Okay...but we really don’t have a minute,” she protested.

“
No, I mean...never mind.” There was no time to explain semantics to her. She was really striking a raw nerve in me. I really didn’t have time for her colloquial misgivings. Silly she could be but I was falling apart.

“
Okay so listen. Explain to your doctor and fast, like in a New York minute maid that you—”

“
A New York minute!” I punctuated into the phone, frustrated with our communication already.

“
Testy, testy...you need to be nice to me.”

She didn’t deserve my angst, genuinely I said, “I’m sorry...Mary, they’re coming back, and it’s not going to be good, not for me...please call this number—it’s my parents and tell them I’m being held prisoner in a hospital in Paris...St, St.. I forget the name, but tell them I can see the back of the Louvre Museum from my window...” I breathed heavily. “Hurry take down both these numbers, 212—”

“No...no, no. You have to do this yourself...listen carefully,” she snapped surprisingly and then calmly added, “You’re in good hands, you’re there for a good reason. You have a gift, and the power to change a terrible event, several, I would say. They happened in the past and are going to happen in the future, again if....”

“
In the past?” I remembered the old newspaper she toted around. The woman wasn’t playing with a full deck of cards. “Don’t tell me that you believe—” I couldn’t bring myself to question her sanity. She was as crazy as a hen without a head. “Mary, please stop. I just want to go home. I don’t know what is going on, and I swear if I find out this is some sick experiment, I’m going to go ballistic on whoever’s involved,” I said pointedly, sending a message to her as well.

“
Tell the doctor all that you can remember. Quit giving him such a hard time, deary.” My mouth dropped open. How dare she assume I was giving my doctor a hard time? “Convince him who you are,” she urged me.

“
Who I am? Huh?”

“
Yes, he will get it, trust me.”

“
But...”

“
You will end up saying something that will finally make sense to him. My gods, girl...you’ve already told him things that has him questioning the impossible.” I think she had him confused with me. I questioned more than the impossible. Beside how did she know what I had discussed with him?

Mary continued on. “He will understand who you are when you remember everything and most importantly he’ll understand who he is to you, too.”

I couldn’t figure her out.

“
Mary...what do you mean who he is to me? Do you know, is he someone I’ve met before?” I rattled of questions as confusion flooded my mind.

“
Only you can answer that.”

“
I don’t remember ever meeting him. He’s no one to me. And the most insane thing is he told me it’s 1946, of course he flashed at the clock when he said it...it’s marked in Army Swiss time”

“
Are you sure that wasn’t an uncanny coincidence? Mary questioned, her tone eerie.

“
No I’m sure he meant the time,” I said with conviction.

“
Are you?”

“
Yes,” I firmly retorted. “You can’t possibly believe that he meant the year 1946—do you?”

She simply replied, “Could be.”

“That’s ridiculous. If it’s really 1946, then how did you call me?” My suspicions grew.

“
I dialed your number and you answered...thank goodness.”

I couldn’t believe I had entertained the thought of getting straight answers from her. It was a waste of time. From what I remembered she wasn’t very stable when I’d met her. I began questioning everything. Maybe, I had never even met her on the train, and she was just another crazy patient here, calling me from the next room. Then again, perhaps she drugged me on the train.

“All I know is I need to get home.”

Damn her…she’s fucking with me again. My thoughts reeled as I tried to stay focused on what she was saying. She was my last hope. After all, she was did call me and no one else had at that point.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” Mary’s voice echoed through the phone. “The doctor will help you and…” She giggled, teasingly. “You know that handsome fellow? Oh boy, the hunky god-like one that you’ve been remembering, he will help you too. Trust your instincts Angel, they will guide you.” Again, how did she know these things?

A part of me wanted to drill her psychic ability, if that’s what it was, but something told me to let her ramble. I needed all the information I could gather. “But, how do I know any of this is true?”

“Look around, girl...” When she prompted me to do so, a momentary lapse disconnected my ability to think. I raised my eyes slowly examining the room, reflexively; despite that I knew every bare inch of it, I relented to Mary’s order. Pure denial and the loss of my memory impeded logic. Perhaps I’d known all along the obvious. I shut my eyelids and reopened them hoping that the room would change, and I’d wake up from a dream and find myself in my own bed. Unfortunately that didn’t happen.

I swallowed hard. Tears crested on the edge of my eyelids. “Mary...I can’t believe this, it’s all too much to process. Please, tell me who you are and how you know so much about me?”

“You don’t know, dear? Oh, c’mon. Think. You’re a smart cookie.”

Feeling tears rolling down my face, shear dread gripped my vocal cords as I spoke, “Mary...I don’t know. I remember meeting you on the train—that’s it...everything went pretty much blank after that.” I sniffled and a vibrating cluck rolled in the depths of my throat. “Why don’t you just tell me exactly what’s going on?” I asked, sighing, holding back my cries.

“Oh dear, don’t cry, no one has died. Tears are for the dead.”

“
No. Apparently someone has died. A young girl. Before she died she had stolen my identity, but the staff actually believes that I’m pretending to be her, and that I’m possibly involved with her death or something underhanded. It’s all a huge mix up. I don’t know how to convince the doctor otherwise. I’m in serious trouble.” I continued to explain to Mary the facts. “It’s all so strange, this girl and I had so much in common, even our names are—were the same? I feel like I’ve fallen down a goddamn fucking rabbit’s hole, and I just want to go home.”

“
Oh, mercy, there’s pain in your words,” Mary whined, referring to my cursing.

I continued to rant. “Mary, I’m terribly injured too, I can barely stand, Oh my God, I almost forgot a friend of mine, his name is Rain...he came here, but he—well, no one else saw him but me. Then, when I told this to the doctor, he said he’s heard of Rain and the de’ Bluche family...” I paused. “Wait, Mary, I just thought of something else. If that were true—if my doctor knows of Rain, then it can’t be 1946 because I met him almost a year ago in the spring of 2012.”

“Oh I see, yes,” she said agreeably. I could almost see her nodding her head through the phone. “Well, it sounds like you’re on the right track and you’ll figure it all out. You don’t need my help anymore. You need to rely on your memories, and soon it will all make sense.”

“
Yeah, you’re right. But how, I don’t even know what’s true—maybe, I imagined Rain being here. No one saw him but me!” I was beginning to repeat myself like a crazy woman. I began to question my own sanity. “Maybe, I’m imagining you too.” My voice trailed off, unable to articulate anything more. The phone made bleeping out sound. “Are you there still?”

“
I’m listening,” she whispered reassuringly.

“
Oh good. You know, earlier my phone had no service. It hasn’t for days. Now out of the blue it works and you called me,” I smiled to myself. A rush of hysteria came over me. I began to laugh. “It’s all too bizarre—” I held my phone out and looked at the screen. My eyes blurred slightly trying to focus on the small print without my glasses. A ‘no service’ alert displayed in the upper left hand corner by where the typical green service bars were located, however they didn’t exist. “Mary, are you there? Mary!” I panicked. Of course, she wasn’t there; I had no effing service.

I jumped when she spoke, “Yes, Dear, I’m here, but I gods to go now.”

“No please, don’t hang up. I need you,” I sobbed into the phone without service.

“
Gots to go...” She corrected herself. Static rustled in the receiver.

“
No. Mary, are you there still?” I listened carefully. “Mary.” The call had ended. Actually, according to my ‘no service bars’ it couldn’t have ever begun. I closed my eyes in an effort to settle my mind from spinning out of control.

There was no time to rationalize, with my cell still in hand, I flung back the blanket and flipped my legs onto the floor. My knees wobbled, adrenaline kicking in to high gear. I raced to the window and pulled up the ratty old shade.

Peering out, it looked as if I was on the second—maybe the third floor—thank God, there was a fire escape a foot away from the window.

It was raining, hard, but that had never stopped me from sneaking out of my house a few times as a teenager, and this time it was a matter of life and death.

I fiddled with the lock on the window and it released. Tugging at the old frame, I panicked when it appeared jammed, then suddenly it clicked and slid open. Another obstacle stood between me and freedom; a strong hold wire screen. I felt like a bird in a cage.

My eyes scanned the room, searching for something large to break through it. I reached out and grabbed the closest thing to me, the top portion of the medical tray from its stand. It was sturdy and had sharp edges; it might work. I laid my phone on the windowsill and hit the blunt end of the tray hard against the screen. All it took was one blow; it released and fell away. A fleeting hope crossed my mind that it didn’t hit anyone below. I tucked my cell into the elastic band of the hospital grade panties and flung my legs over the sill. Carefully, reaching out to grip onto the fire escape.

“Where do you think you’re going?” A voice called out from behind me. My heart fell into the pit of my stomach as I grasped onto the metal rails of the ladder. There was no turning back now. Wind and rain plummeted against me, dripping into my eyes, and drenching my thin gown instantly.

“
Stop!” the voice called out.

Slowly, I turned around, my now wet hair whipped and wrapped around my face, obscuring my ability to see clearly. A dark shadow approached me. I felt dangerously dizzy, one leg dangled over the ledge, 30 feet in the air, and the other braced against the windowsill.

“It’s time...”