Shifting Shadows (3 page)

When she finally accepted the fact that they weren
’t going to crash into something, the ride became quite fascinating and astonishingly normal, as though she’d experienced it all before. Releasing her grip on the dash, she leaned back and stared out the window at the scenery flashing by.

Trees and grassy fields she
’d passed while riding in a wagon with Papa had been replaced by hundreds of houses—maybe thousands. Too many to count. She gaped in awe at images she’d never seen, never even dreamed of. Yet those images, after her first shock wore off, began to look
right
in an inexplicable way. Each new spectacle, startling at first glimpse, seemed to slip into and fill its own empty slot in her memory just as the telephone and automobile had.

One thing was becoming certain. The world she remembered was gone. Years she couldn
’t account for had passed, and she was alone in this strange place. She swallowed hard as the implications hit her. Mama must be long dead, and Aunt Hester and Cousin Thad and her best friend, Rachel—everybody she knew.

A sob caught in her throat. She couldn
’t lose everyone at once. If she was alive, surely they must be too. But she knew they were gone. She’d never see them again in this lifetime. The grief of loss flooded through her, threatened to overwhelm her. She bit her lip, fighting back the tears.

“
How’s your head?” Dylan asked, diverting her thoughts.

“
My head? Oh, I guess I’d forgotten about it. Much better, thank you. What on earth is that?” In her sorrow over her family, she hadn’t been paying attention to their surroundings, hadn’t noticed they were approaching a group of tall buildings that seemed to touch the sky.

“
Kansas City.”

When he spoke the words, she felt the information settle into place in her memory.
“Yes,” she said slowly. “It is. But how did we get here so soon? It took Papa nearly half a day with our horse and buggy.”

“
Half a day? Fortunately, since I have to come here to work every day, we travel faster than that in our modern cars.”

In his voice she heard again the disbelief, but for just an instant she saw a flash of uncertainty
in his eyes. Before she had time to think about it, he pulled into a concrete-covered lot and stopped in the midst of a crowd of other cars.

“
We’re here,” he said.

*~*~*

A couple of hours later, when they walked through the glass doors and out of the building, Analise—she knew she had to start thinking of herself by that name—felt a great deal more relieved than when she’d gone in.

The doctor, a short, balding man with a pleasant though distracted smile, had assured her that some memory loss from a head injury was common, that her memory would likely return soon. He wouldn
’t have all the test results back until tomorrow, but everything looked normal so far.

Normal
. What a wonderful word. If the tests said she was normal, did that mean she would soon feel normal?

Or would the tests reveal that she
’d stolen Analise’s body or that she was mad? She was actually beginning to accept herself as Analise. She just couldn’t stop thinking of herself as Elizabeth too.

“
You don’t need to check on me every four hours tonight like the doctor suggested,” she said as the streetlight changed from red to green and Dylan took her arm, guiding her across. He had stayed by her side every minute, even through the frightening, sometimes painful tests, but this frequent checking recommended by the doctor would be asking too much of anyone.

“
You heard the doctor,” he said, his gruff tone belying the compassionate way he’d been acting. “It’s either that or you spend the night in the hospital, and you told him in no uncertain terms that you were not going to do that.”

She looked up at his grim expression and wondered, not for the first time, if his tenacity about never leaving her came more from concern about her welfare or from
the possibility that she might escape from him. She had no idea where that last notion came from, but she sensed that he wanted something from her.

She sighed. Since she had no idea of
Analise’s life prior to this day, there could be any number of reasons for his strange behavior. In any event, whatever the explanation, she was glad he’d been there, glad he was still with her, that she wasn’t totally alone in this strange land.

Yet as they reached his automobile and he opened the door for her to get in again, as he stood so close beside her, she had to admit to another reason for being glad he was there. Even as
his presence gave her a more secure feeling about this world, at the same time he made her feel insecure in an excitingly dangerous way—rather like riding the Ferris wheel at the World’s Fair in St. Louis.

Settling into the car seat beside her, he pulled out of the parking lot, into the line of cars moving down the street. She studied his ominous profile, the square, clenched jaw, the dark secrets of his gaze, and thought she was most assuredly mad
to feel an attraction for this strange man.

“
The doctor said you’d probably start to remember things soon.” He appeared to be focused on the mechanics of operating the vehicle, but the tension in his voice told her the comment was weighted with hidden meaning. What did he think—or fear—that she’d remember?

“
I hope he’s right,” she said then decided to take the plunge, see how he would react to the return of her memory. “Sometimes when I see things, like the tall buildings, or when you tell me something, I sort of get that memory back. When you told me this was Kansas City, I knew it was and that I’d been here, but that’s all.”

“
You admit you’re not some Victorian woman named Elizabeth Dupard?” Again his voice had a peculiar edge to it, as if he were testing her.

“
I know I’m Analise Parrish,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “I know I can’t be Elizabeth Dupard if I’m Analise Parrish.”

But I am Elizabeth! And
Analise.

*~*~*

A weak sun was trying to peek through the clouds when they turned onto Analise’s street. She sat upright, gripped the dash as she noticed several cars parked in front of her house. Men in uniforms stood in the yard. Policemen. Had some crime been committed while she was gone? Or were they waiting for her? Had the doctor’s tests revealed her to be insane? Had he sent the police to get her?

Panic stricken, she turned to Dylan, the man whose motives she didn
’t understand or trust, but the only person she could turn to at the moment. “What’s happening? What do they want?”

“
You don’t know?” He swung around the parked vehicles and pulled up in front of Rachel’s house. “I see your ex-husband’s car among the crowd.” He indicated a shining white vehicle.

Her ex-husband.
Not Blake. She knew now he didn’t mean Blake.

Did this have something to do with the divorce? Were they here to take her back to him? That thought made the world spin crazily.
“I don’t remember my…” She had to force the words past her numb lips. “My…ex-husband.”

“
Then you’d better come meet him.” Dylan got out and came around for her. “Why are you shaking?” he asked as he took her hand. His gaze bored into her as if trying to ferret out her secrets, her very soul.

She wanted to beg him to get back in the car and drive her far away. But she had nowhere to go. This was her home, her only remnant of the life she remembered.
The house wasn’t exactly the way she remembered it, but it was the closest she’d found since waking that morning.

She got out
of the automobile, making an effort not to clench Dylan’s hand too tightly but not releasing it either. Like her house, he wasn’t completely familiar, but he was the only person she knew in this strange world.

As they walked across the yard, one of the policemen came up to them.
“Can I help you?” he asked.

“
You can tell us what’s going on,” Dylan answered. “This is Ms. Parrish. She lives here.”

Analise
waited, holding her breath, wishing she could sink into the earth or fly into the clouds, anything to escape whatever the officer was going to say to her.

The officer lifted his eyebrows.
“You’re Analise Parrish?”

“
Yes, she is.”

“
Hey, Milton,” he called over his shoulder, “it’s the Parrish woman!” He turned back to her. “We thought something had happened to you. Your husband’s been worried. He came out, found the broken door but no sign of you, and called us.

They weren
’t going to arrest her! “I fell down the stairs. My neighbor took me to the doctor.”

“
Analise!”

She looked up to see a tall, slim man striding across the porch. His eyes were so light a shade of blue they almost matched his meticulous silver hair. His skin was brown as though he spent a lot of time outdoors, but his face was unlined, his clothing immaculate, not like a laborer.

“That’s Phillip Ryker,” Dylan murmured. “Your ex.”

For a brief instant as he walked beneath the skeletal branches of the catalpa tree, his image blurred. He seemed larger, his hair and eyes darker, skin paler.
Blake?

She clung to Dylan.
“No! I don’t want to go back!” The words came from somewhere deep inside, a place hidden even from her, for they made no sense as she uttered them.

“
It’s going to be all right,” he said, dropping her hand to slide his arm tightly about her waist. “You’ll never have to go back.” For that moment, his voice was different, and it touched that hidden place in her heart. She started to call his name, could almost remember it. Not Dylan, something else…

But the other man rushed to her and pulled her away, into his arms. She didn
’t try to fight him, just let herself turn into a limp sawdust doll in his embrace.

“
Thank God you’re all right,” he said.

She blinked and shook her head. This was Phillip, not Blake. Not Blake.

“I was so worried,” he continued, holding her at arm’s length so he could look into her eyes. “Lottie called me when you didn’t come into the shop this morning and she couldn’t reach you at home. I came out and found your door broken and no sign of you. What happened?”

“
She says she fell and hit her head,” Dylan said, his rough voice intruding between Phillip and her. “She’s covered with bruises. She doesn’t want to talk to the cops.”

Analise
looked up at him, surprised at the hatred in his voice and eyes. It was apparent from his tone that he knew Phillip, had some connection with him. He couldn’t have so much enmity for a stranger.

She shivered as she recalled
the improper, heady feelings Dylan evoked in her when he touched her. Could he be the reason for her divorce? Was that why he disliked Phillip?

Yet Phillip gave no indication that he shared the ill will. With a curt nod of agreement to Dylan, he released
Analise and turned to the nearest officer.

Once again Dylan touched her, taking her arm, and a nebulous, familiar world almost coalesced around her as he led her toward her house, up the steps and across the porch.

She stopped just inside the broken door. The wide staircase loomed before her at the far end of the foyer. She stared upward. That’s where she’d lost her mind. If she had any chance of finding it, surely it would be there.

She walked slowly forward, stood at the bottom
of the steps and looked up to the landing. A wisp of memory swirled tantalizingly just out of reach. She needed to go up there, see if she could find—

A hand grabbed her shoulder. She gasped, whirled and fought through the fog in her mind to recognize Phillip.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, smiling. “You seemed to be in a trance. I just wanted to be sure you were all right.”

She nodded.
“I’m fine. I was only looking. Trying to recall.”

He frowned.
“Recall what?”

“
She has some temporary amnesia,” Dylan said, stepping up beside Phillip, his tone brusque, his dark eyes glowing like coals. Yes, there was definitely some animosity between them—at least on Dylan’s side.

“
Amnesia?” Phillip repeated.

“
I can’t remember…things.”

“
She thinks her name is Elizabeth Dupard and the year’s 1911.”

Analise
bit her lip, distressed that Dylan had exposed her so callously. In spite of his kindness in looking after her, she didn’t think she could trust him completely. There was something going on with him that she didn’t know about…but then, she didn’t know about much of anything.

She looked at him and found him watching Phillip as intently as he
’d watched her. Had he told Phillip about her problem deliberately just to catch the man’s response? Why? What was going on between the two of them?