Time Tantrums (6 page)

Mother?
 
Taylor took a deep, calming breath. “Look, Frank, I don’t mean to hurt your kids or you for that matter, but I don’t understand what’s happening here. My last memory was leaving for work, and today I’m sitting at an unfamiliar table with a strange man and two children who claim to be my family. I don’t even know what day it is. What can I do to convince you I’m not this Mariah person? I’m Taylor Morgan. I live at 1444 Broadshire Lane in Denver. I’m married to David Morgan. Have been for five years, and I’ve never had a child. If I had,
don’t
you think I’d know about it?”

Frank’s lips
narrowed,
and he rested his hands on either side of his plate. She expected him to spring from his chair, but instead, he took in a deep breath and held it, then loudly exhaled. “What say we take this a step at a time? For the children’s sake, until we figure this out, can I at least call you Mariah when they’re around?”

“I suppose I can handle that, but just don’t get used to it. I’m Taylor and that’s all there is to it.”

He nodded. “Fine,
Taylor,
maybe we need to back-paddle a bit here. Can I tell you what happened and see if it sounds at all familiar?”

His evident frustration mirrored
her own
. Since she didn’t have a better idea, she nodded. “I’m just as anxious as you are to straighten out this mess. I’m listening.”

He stood, put his hands in his pockets and began pacing.
 
A wave of loneliness washed over Taylor. David always did the same thing when he was nervous.

“Two weeks ago we started for town.”
 
He stopped and gazed at her. “Remember? You were sitting on the front porch having coffee when I rode in from the pasture. You said you were going to pack a basket...”
 
He stopped and looked at her, clearly desperate for a reaction.

Listening to Frank was like having someone read her a story. Taylor pitched forward, anxious to see how it ended. “Go on.”

He began pacing again. “A nest of rattlers spooked the horses and the team took off on a dead run. The wagon hit a rock and flipped over. You hit your head when you were thrown out and were unconscious until yesterday.”
 
He sagged back into his chair and grasped the table’s edge. “Now you tell me you aren’t Mariah. Can you understand why I’m confused? Do you remember any of this?”

He looked so distraught, a pang of sympathy stabbed at her. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but none of that sounds even remotely familiar. I wish I could explain this all away, but I can’t be who I’m not. I have a husband somewhere who must wonder where the hell I am.”

Frank’s knuckles turned white as his fingers tightened on the table. “You have to remember something, Mariah... Taylor. Please.”

She leaned forward, rested on her elbows, and rubbed her forehead. “Let’s see. I got up late—I’m always late. David hates that about me. Anyway, I recall driving down Center Street on my way to an important meeting.” She tapped her brow in an effort to force the memories to come. “The radio... I was in a hurry. I heard squealing tires. That’s all I remember until you came into the room upstairs.”

“Center Street? Squealing tires?
Radio?”
He repeated each word as if they were a foreign language. A puzzled look shot from his eyes. He cocked his head to one side and stared at her for a few moments before asking, “Taylor, you say you were driving to a meeting. What exactly were you driving?”

“My Lexus.”

“What’s a Lex us?”

“A top-of-the-line automobile.”

“What’s an auto mobile?”

“Oh, come on. You’ve gotta be kidding.”

“I’m serious. I have no idea what those things are.”

Taylor leaned back in her chair and covered her face. “Okay. If this isn’t
Candid Camera
, I must be in the
Twilight Zone
.”

Frank didn’t speak, but his furrowed brow and questioning gaze indicated total confusion.

Unlike her usual stoic self, Taylor’s shoulders sagged and a tear slipped down her cheek. "How can I make you understand?"

He touched her hand. “Maybe if I show you around, something might jog your memory.”

Frank took her hand and led her into a large room. “This is our parlor. You took such care in decorating it. Does it look familiar?”

Taylor wrinkled her nose at the archaic style. She pulled her hand free from his and fingered the velvet settee with intricate woodwork and button tufting. Straight back mahogany chairs—one with arms, the other a side chair—both covered in ungodly brocade sat on either side.
“God no!
Give me oak and leather any day. This certainly isn’t my taste in decor.”

He picked up a kerosene lamp and ushered her out the back door. “Remember the porch I built for you? You love to sit out here and enjoy the peace and quiet. You always say it’s your escape from Callie and Jacob’s bickerin’.”

Along the wall of the house, a small table separated two wicker rocking chairs with well-worn seat cushions. Taylor walked to the railing and inhaled the fragrant honeysuckle. She looked at the half moon, sitting low in the sky and at the outline of the barn across the way. How often had Mariah—whoever she was—sat here?
  

Taylor stared into space. “It doesn’t look familiar, but it sure is nice. I love honeysuckle.”

Frank walked over, plucked a blossom and handed it to her. “You always loved honeysuckle. That’s why I planted it all along the railing. Let’s sit for minute. Maybe things are starting to come back.”

He sounded encouraged, but she didn’t want to give him false hope. She needed some time to process everything. Lowering herself into a chair, she started rocking. After a long sigh, she glanced up at him. “I sure could go for a cup of coffee.”
 

“I’ll get you one. There’s a pot on the stove.”
 
The squeaking kitchen door caused the crickets to cease chirping.

Taylor stopped rocking, waiting for them to resume their melodic song. Used to noisy city life, it had been a long time since she’d been anywhere so quiet. She scanned the property’s moonlit perimeter, glanced along the length of the porch, then back at the house.
Whoever you are, Mariah, you’ve got quite a home... and husband
.

Frank returned with a steaming cup of coffee and placed it on the table next to the lantern. “There you go, just like you like it.
A little milk and sugar.”
 
His cheek dimpled with his smile.

Taylor gulped. “How did you know I like my coffee that way?”
 
Her mind seized.
Don’t panic, Taylor. It’s just a coincidence.

“I’ve fixed your coffee hundreds of times in the seventeen years we’ve been married.”

“Seventeen years?”

He sat in the chair across the table from her. “Yes. You were sixteen when we got engaged and eighteen when we married. Remember? I always joked about my saving you from being an old maid.”
 
His gaze roamed her face. “I have to say, you’re even more beautiful now than when I married you.”

Taylor wished for a mirror as a thousand thoughts ran through her mind. She began rocking again, trying to sort through them.
Seventeen years?
She tried to compute the numbers and shook her head. “This doesn’t add up. I’m twenty-seven years old. If I married you seventeen years ago, I would have been ten. I married David when I was twenty-two. If you add seventeen years to that, you’re trying to tell me I’m almost forty. That’s ridiculous.”

“Callie is fifteen and Jacob is ten. Try to remember. Callie was born at your parents’ house and Jacob here… upstairs in the bedroom.”

Taylor stopped rocking and straightened.
“My parents.
That’s it! My parents, Gladys and Howard Sturm, can prove who I am. Let’s call them.”

“Call?
 
On who?
 
Those people aren’t your parents.”

“Of course they are. Now you’re acting ridiculous… like I wouldn’t know my own mother and father. Just call them.”
 
She blew steam from the cup and sipped her coffee.

“What do you mean
call
?”
 
Frank’s brow arched. “They most likely don’t live nearby. Besides it’s far
to
late to visit.”

“Call them. Telephone! Pick up the receiver, dial the number!”
 
Her jaw tensed at his feigned stupidity.

“Sweetie, you’re scaring me. I don’t know what a tel a fone is.”

“How can you not know? Even if you don’t have one, I’m sure there’s one somewhere. A public phone maybe? You could drive me there.”
 
She put her cup on the table and stood.

“I can’t drive you anywhere just yet. I haven’t fixed the wheels on the wagon, and Ma has the buggy.”
 

Taylor stomped her foot. “I don’t want to go in a wagon or a buggy! How about your car? Surely you have one.”

“You keep mentioning that word, but I don’t know what a car is.”
 
He peered up at her, his brow creased and confusion clouding his eyes.

“A car.
A vehicle.
An automobile.
You know... four tires, an engine.
Preferably a sporty sedan with class.
This is just unfriggin-believable.”

“Nope, no car.
Haven’t ever seen one of those, nor heard tell of one.
Sounds interestin’ though.”
 
He folded his hands across his stomach, slowly shaking his head.

Taylor’s temples ached. “We aren’t getting anywhere, and I'm really tired. I think I’ll just go up to bed. We can talk more in the morning.”

“That’s a good idea. I’m feelin’ a might tired
myself
.”

She held her breath.
Oh my God, he thinks I’m his wife. Surely he won’t want to sleep in the same room.

“I’ll be in the guest room if you need me.”

Taylor exhaled. When Frank stood, picked up the lamp, and opened the door, she stepped inside.

He paused to inspect the noisy hinges. “I’ve gotta put some grease to this thing tomorrow.” After closing the door, he followed her upstairs.

Taylor relied on the banister for support—each step reminding her of her injuries. When she reached her bedroom, she glanced over her shoulder to assure Frank went into the room across the hall. She closed her door and leaned against it.
If I dropped
acid, at least that
would explain this really bad trip I'm on.

Chapter Six

Mariah grew tired of watching television—too many things to try to understand. She lay awake in the semi-darkness of her hospital room. The nurses finished their nightly ritual and left her in peace. She stared at flashes of light reflecting through the window and watched the colors dance across the ceiling tiles. Unusual sounds coming from beyond the window piqued her curiosity. Did she dare get up?

She edged to the bedside, lowered her legs and searched for the floor. The bed was too high; her bare feet dangled in the air. She sat for a moment and pondered her actions. What if someone caught her?
 
Would she get into trouble
?
Was she strong enough to stand?
 
There seemed only one way to tell.

She slid off the bed and braced herself against the mattress to test the sturdiness of her legs and listened to make sure no one was coming. When she felt steady, she shuffled across the floor to the window. The cold tile stung the soles of her feet.

The bendable metal that created a unique curtain created another strange thing to ponder. She pushed two thin slats apart and peered through them. Her breath caught and she widened her eyes.

The flashing lights came from a large sign mounted atop a tall building across the way. “This Bud’s For You” blinked off and on in bright red letters. The words held no meaning at all. Holding her head, she peered down to the street below. Shock sent her reeling backwards.

 
“Oh, my Lord.”
She covered her mouth and stood frozen in place.

She inched back for another look. How in the world could she be so high in the air?
 
Dots of bright white and red lights darted in various directions and made her queasy. She raised her gaze and looked left then right, awed by the tall structures that spiked the air like giant fence posts. What were the strange moving lights below, and how did the buildings get so tall?
 
She swallowed hard, unable to find an explanation that made sense.

Now, even more questions muddled her mind, and she had no one to ask. She hurried back to bed and crawled under the covers. Her head spun and her heart pounded. Had she gone mad? It seemed a long time before exhaustion calmed her mind and allowed sleep to claim her.

* * * *

Mariah awoke to David bending over her and kissing her forehead. Again, her body stiffened in response to another unwelcome show of affection. Earlier, she’d wanted someone to talk to, but now she wasn’t in the mood. It had been late when she finally fell asleep, and the nurses had already disturbed her once. With a deep breath, she pushed herself into a semi-sitting position, intending to be cordial. Her mouth widened into a big yawn, and she stretched her arms up in the air until soreness forced them down.
“Morning.”
 
She smacked her lips at the pasty taste in her mouth.