Lightning Only Strikes Twice (3 page)

The delight in her voice made him glad he’d made the offer. She may not like what he was doing to the property, but he’d at least shown her he wasn’t completely insensitive.

“Hurry.”

Annie placed the blade against the bark and pressed. Sap bled from the cut.

Another bolt of lightning streaked through the sky, followed immediately by a boom that shook the ground under their feet. She gave a startled cry and flinched. The knife dropped to the soft earth below the tree.

“Sorry.” She picked up the knife.

More lightning lit up the grove and glinted off an object on the handle.

“What’s this?” Brushing away the dirt, she revealed small golden medallion set in the bone hilt.

Luke looked over her shoulder at the knife. “My father had this knife made for my twenty-first birthday. I think it’s some old coin he used to carry.”

Annie held it up in the waning light. “That can’t be…” Slipping a hand under the collar of her blouse, she tugged on a chain. Dangling on the end was a small gold medallion. “Look.”

The medallion was about the size of a quarter, but much thinner. He touched it and a wash of familiarity settled over him. “May I?” he asked.

Annie nodded.

He slid his hand along her neck to unlatch the chain. Her skin felt like warm silk and she trembled under his touch. The urge to draw her close and quell her shivers was as unexpected as it was strong. Clamping down the impulse, he unclasped the chain and the necklace slid into his palm.

Closer inspection showed a woman’s face etched on one side. The obverse matched the man’s face etched on the medallion embedded in his knife.

“Where did you get this?” he asked.

“Grandpa gave it to me. I’ve always thought it was my grandmother’s.”

He removed the knife from Annie’s hand and compared the two medallions. Despite the gloom of overcast skies, both objects radiated with a strange glow.

“They’re identical,” he whispered.

She leaned closer to look. “How could we both have the same thing?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe when your grandfather tried to sell the property to my dad ten years ago, they found these medallions in one of the houses.”

“But Grandpa didn’t sell. I didn’t even know he wanted to until I found those papers after he died,” she said with a catch in her voice.

Their gazes met and held. The air grew strangely calm.

The improbable scent of lavender teased Luke’s nose. An invisible force tugged at him and made it difficult to think with her so close.

The sky flashed with the brilliance of the noonday sun, then went dark. The thunder that followed was right on top of them.

Annie jumped and glanced at the tree. “I’d better finish so we can leave.” Her hands shook as she took the knife from him.

“Let me help,” he said. Still holding her necklace in his palm, he stepped beside her.

****

Annie quivered at Luke’s nearness. Blood surged through her veins with the wild beat of her heart. Had he wanted to kiss her? If the thunder hadn’t startled her…

She shook off the ridiculous thought. Luke wasn’t a man to be interested in the likes of her. All that mattered now was carving her initials next to those of her long-gone family. Later, she could question why Luke had a medallion identical to her pendant. Later, she’d have more time than she needed—alone.

She raised the knife.

Luke’s fingers wrapped warmly around hers. Together they guided the blade to the bark and shaved away the first leg for the letter A.

The air splintered.

Electrical currents shimmered and danced around them. Light and sparks erupted as lightning struck the ground next to the tree.

Luke’s body tensed.

His face paled. Then his legs buckled.

Annie tried to catch him.

His forehead collided with hers making her stumble and strike her head on the tree.

The forest pulsated with deafening thunder. Rockets burst behind her eyes as she collapsed to the ground beside Luke.

Chapter Two

White Rock, 1891

Annie rolled onto her side and opened her eyes.

Greens, browns, and blues swirled in a kaleidoscope from hell. Her body felt suspended in space, spinning like an out-of-control merry-go-round. Sweat broke on her brow and cooled quickly in the slight breeze. A bitter taste crawled up the back of her throat and her nauseous stomach churned.

Her rapid breath was out of sync with her heartbeat adding to the lightheadedness. She squeezed her eyes shut, swallowed urge to throw up, and curled into a fetal position, afraid to move.

As the vertigo ebbed, she started to relax. Seconds later, it returned more strongly than before. Clammy heat engulfed her middle. Without warning, she heaved the meager contents of her stomach onto the ground.

Feeling slightly better, she tucked her chin to her chest to stop tremors racking her body. Part of her wished for oblivion. If she was going to die, then just get it over. Another part insisted she focus on something other than pain and discomfort. Choosing the latter option, she concentrated on slowing her breathing and cautiously uncurled her body.

Somewhere a dove cooed. Farther away, a squirrel jabbered.

The sounds were out of place, like a dream.

Above her, daylight poked through a canopy of tree branches. Sharp light sliced painfully across her eyes. Was this a fevered hallucination?

Dirt, trees, squirrels. A forest? Why was she in a forest?

Laughter echoed through the trees. The chatter of young voices and footsteps snapping dry twigs followed. As the voices grew louder, the forest creatures quieted.

She rolled toward the sound. The movement brought her face-to-face with the trunk of a tree. She braced a hand against the rough bark and tried to leverage into a sitting position. Her body refused to obey. The effort drained what little strength she had. With a groan, she collapsed onto her back and closed her eyes.

“Hey, look over there!” a voice shouted. The footsteps sounded closer.

“Is she dead?” a voice whispered.

“I dunno.” A softer voice whispered back. “Maybe.”

Annie opened her eyes. The figure of a boy slowly came into focus.

“See, she’s not dead,” said the boy. “Miss? Are you hurt?” His tan pants were fastened with brown suspenders over an off-white shirt. His face filled with kind concern.

Annie tried to sit up, but could only lift her head a little. “I…I’m—” She stopped, horrified her voice sounded foreign to her own ears.

Another boy knelt beside her. Dressed similarly to the first boy, he looked a couple of years younger. He touched the back of her hand, and then cradled it in his own. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “We ain’t gonna hurt you.”

A young girl stepped into view. Her faded blue cotton dress didn’t quite reach the tops of her black button boots. “Is she sick? It sort of smells like throw-up.”

“I think we oughtta git the doc,” the older boy spoke again. “Willie, you stay with her.”

The boy holding her hand looked up. “Me? Whadda I do if she dies?”

The girl leaned over and stared at Annie with solemn eyes. “Don’t die,” she whispered. “Willie’s afraid of dead people.”

The absurdity of the girl’s comment brought a smile to Annie’s lips. Unable to speak, she nodded her head, which seemed to satisfy the girl.

She turned and chased after the older boy.

Annie’s gaze returned to the youngster still holding her hand.

He scowled at the retreating children and then looked at her. “I ain’t afraid.”

She ventured another smile, grateful the vertigo had lessened.

The scowl left the boy’s face. “You’re gonna be all right,” he told her. “I heard Mr. Maxwell fell down out here too, and he seems fine now. Except he’s grumpy most of the time.”

The child’s rambling made little sense, but Maxwell’s name sounded vaguely familiar.

“Can you talk yet?” Willie asked. “How come you can’t talk? What’s your name? Why are you out here in the woods?”

Her head spun, trying to keep up with the questions. “I’m…My name is…Annie.” She searched her mind for her last name. Nothing. What was wrong with her?

“My name’s William,” he said. “Everybody calls me Willie.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Willie.” The boy’s anxiousness to help was welcome in all this strangeness. With the return of her voice, some strength had returned as well. “Do you think you can help me sit up?”

“Sure.” Willie climbed to his feet.

He tugged one of her hands while she pushed off the ground.

Eventually, she sat upright against the tree. The maneuver brought on the vertigo again. Pressing fingers against her eyelids, she shut out the swirling images and accompanying nausea.

“Annie?” Willie asked. “Are you sick? Maybe you should lie down some more.”

“I’m a little dizzy,” she mumbled. “I’ll be fine in a moment.”

He patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. “Well, I’m right here.” His voice held a mix of bravery and uncertainty.

The sensation subsided and she opened her eyes. “Thank you. I’m glad you stayed.”

“You’re welcome.”

The child’s thoughtfulness was touching, but did nothing to dispel dozens of questions that popped into her mind. Where was she? What had caused her to black out? How could she forget her last name? Where did the kids come from?

Willie shifted from foot to foot for a moment as though he didn’t know what to do next. Then he plopped on the ground next to her. “You have funny clothes.”

Annie looked down at herself. Her blouse and sweater were soiled. Dirt and dead leaves covered her slacks. Where were her loafers? “Wh…why do you say that?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. Your clothes just look different.”

“I’m certainly a mess.” She brushed away the leaves, but damp stains had found a permanent home.

“Where are you from?” Willie asked

Annie opened her mouth but the answer wouldn’t come. A rush of panic caught in her throat. “I—I don’t know…”

The boy gave a sage nod as though her response didn’t surprise him. “I know lots of people who didn’t have homes until they came here.”

Annie was afraid to ask, but couldn’t help herself. “Where is here?”

“You don’t know where you’re at neither?” He asked incredulously.

She slowly shook her head.

“You’re in White Rock. Did you come for the Founders’ Day party?”

“White Rock? Idaho?”

“Yup.”

At least she knew White Rock even if she couldn’t remember other things. “It’s Founders’ Day?”

Willie nodded.

“Why celebrate Founders’ Day for a ghost town?”

His eyes grew wide. “There ain’t no ghosts in town. There might be ghosts at the cemetery.” He shuddered. “I don’t like to go there.”

“I don’t blame you.” She pointed to his shirt. “Is the celebration the reason you’re wearing a costume?”

“What costume?”

“The clothes you’re wearing. Did you dress up for Founders’ Day?”

“Yeah,” he said with a comical scowl. “Ma made me change.” He brushed away some leaves clinging to his pants and then twisted a button on his shirt until the threads would surely break.

She smiled at his tone. It seemed Willie would rather wear yesterday’s dirty laundry, than put on something clean. However, his outfit was quite authentic. Maybe he was part of a historical reenactment for this celebration she couldn’t remember anything about.

“Well, you look very nice. I’m sure your mother is proud.”

Willie straightened his shoulders and gave her a toothy grin. “Thanks.” He looked closely at her clothes. “Most ladies I know don’t wear trousers. You’re pretty, so I guess everyone would know you’re a girl.”

“Uh, thank you…I think.”

“Willie, are you going sweet on the lady?” a gravelly voice queried.

She jumped at the unexpected voice.

Willie scrambled to his feet, a red flush tingeing his ears. “Doc!” He faced the man who’d joined them, then glanced guiltily back at Annie. “I’m just talkin’ to her.”

Annie looked at the man who had approached with hardly a sound. Quite a feat considering all the forest debris. His thinning gray hair was brushed away from his forehead. A trimmed mustache matched in color. From under bushy brows, piercing blue eyes assessed her. His features defied age and he unnerved her with his frank appraisal.

Movement behind the doctor drew her attention to the other two children who’d been with Willie earlier.

“Don’t mind them,” the doctor said, noticing the direction of her gaze. “They’re just the curious kind.”

Annie glanced back at the doctor. He was dressed in costume too. The dark vest over a white, high-collared shirt seemed to emphasize the formality of his profession, although the top button was undone. Everyone, it seemed, had dressed up. She felt badly the children called the doctor away from the celebration, but she was relieved an adult arrived to help.

“Kevin said you fell down,” the doctor said. “Are you ill?”

“I think I’m better, now. I’m sorry the kids bothered you.”

“Now, now.” He crouched beside her. “It’s no bother. Let me take a look.”

“Hey, Doc,” Willie said, leaning over to watch the doctor work. “Don’t it seem strange that Annie fell in the same place as Mr. Maxwell?”

“Annie?” the doctor asked.

“That’s me.” She winced as his boney fingers probed near her hairline.

Willie offered a sympathetic grimace. “Did that hurt? I’ll bet when you fell, you cracked it on a rock.”

“Willie!” The doctor glared at the boy.

Willie straightened. “Sorry, Doc.” He stepped back.

The doctor gazed at Annie. “Well, Miss Annie, I’m Doctor Smyth, and you’ve got a nasty bump right there.”

“I don’t know how I—” She stopped, remembering that she had fallen and hit her head on a tree—during a rainstorm. She looked at the blue skies peeking through the branches. No storm now. Also, someone had been with her. Who?

She felt out of kilter. Maybe she
was
dreaming. Any minute she’d wake up and everything would be normal again.