Whispers From the Grave (22 page)

I shuddered as I watched them drive off. It was the first present a boy had given me and Ben was
not
going to spoil it for me! I pressed the shell to my cheek and sighed. Shane had tried to minimize the gift, but it wasn’t easy for boys to admit their feelings. Obviously, the night we met
meant
something to him! Would it be a date we would celebrate in the years to come?

Or would I find the visor and go home to Kyle? The memory of my other boyfriend sent a big gangly shadow of guilt hopscotching through my conscience.

It was as if I had two lives and couldn’t choose between them. Here, I had my real parents and a sister and brother and
Shane
! But in 2070, the mother who raised me would surely be missing me. And then there was Kyle...

Whirling with the choices, I drifted into the kitchen where my mother was sponging off the counter. If only I could tell her about my predicament! My real flesh and blood mother would surely know what to do!

“Shane’s a doll,” she said with a knowing grin.

“I’ve never met anyone like him,” I admitted.

“Makes me wish
I
were twenty years younger.”

“He made me this necklace from a shell we found the night we met,” I confided. “He’s so sweet. I think I’m starting to love him.” My words fell to a whisper and unexpected tears scorched my eyes. “I don’t want to leave him.”

She studied me so intently, I thought for a moment she’d recognized me, despite the fact I was hidden beneath layers of clown makeup.

Oh, Mother!
I cried silently.
Please see me!
Surely something in my eyes would tell her I was her daughter.

In the long moment she stared at me, hope spread its soft wings, fluttering in my chest. My mother—my
real
mother was giving me her undivided attention. I ached to throw my arms around her and tell her who I was.

Encouraged by her interest, I blurted, “I have a problem. A
big
problem.”

“Sounds serious.”

“It is. I don’t know where to live. I care about people in two different places—a
long
way apart. If I go home, I’ll never see Shane and some of my relatives again. If I stay here, I have no place to live. And people back home will miss me.”

I sucked in my breath as she seemed to ponder my predicament, her eyes flickering thoughtfully. I half expected her to invite me to live with them.

“I know what my next project’s going to be,” she said suddenly.

“Huh?”

“Clowns!” She laughed and clapped her hands. “It came to me a minute ago when you got teary-eyed. You know the cliché about clowns? Laughing on the outside, crying on the inside? Well, I could do a mug that was a happy clown on the outside, and when you looked inside the cup, he’d be crying.”

Dumbfounded, I stared at her. Hadn’t she been listening to me?

“It’s kind of corny,” she continued. “But clown pottery could make a profound statement.”

“Great idea,” I heard myself say.

“Oh, and don’t feel bad about your boyfriend, honey. Believe me, you’ll think you’re in love a dozen more times before you turn twenty. Puppy love is all part, of being a teenager. You’ll forget Shane and be chasing some other boy a week after you’re back home.”

A tight knot of sadness froze in my chest. The cold spread, creeping through my limbs until the tips of my fingers and toes turned to ice.

My mother moved to a table in the corner and began shaping a slab of clay. She hummed to herself, intent on the red clay oozing between her fingers.

At that moment, I knew it would not matter if I washed off my clown makeup. My mother would not know me. Even if she recognized I was of her flesh, she could not
see
me.

A bitter taste rose in my throat as I watched her playing with that clay. How could she have left me in a freezer all those years? How could she have gone and lived her life and died without knowing me?

She must have known I’d be born someday, too late for me to know her!

It was at that instant the meaning of my father’s words to the neighbor hit me: “
We lucked out with a wise investment
...” He meant
me!

As Jim had told me on Deep Brine Island, our biological parents sold me and bought Banbury House with the proceeds.

My father did not seem like a cruel man. Surely he would not have made that comment if he’d known the daughter he’d put on ice was standing right beside him.

Perhaps if I introduced myself to my biological parents, they would make an effort to know and love me. But I found myself thinking,
Why should I give them
t
he chance?
They’d made their choices and were content with the outcome.

My blood flowed through the veins of Steven and Bonnie Mills. Some of my features had first sprouted on their faces. And, yes,
I
did
feel a connection when I looked at those faces.

But
another
face flashed before me. A kind and gentle face, violet eyes brimming with love. Suddenly, I felt an excruciating bond with the woman who had raised me.
She
was my mother. I did not have her circular face, her methodical walk, or her simple logic. Yet she gave me life and loved me every day of that life.

I’d turned my back on her, not even bothering to make things right before I went away. Perhaps
forever.

Oh, Mom! I’m so sorry I hurt you!

What if I couldn’t find the visor? Would I ever see my mother again?

I cornered Sky on the front porch, where he leaned on the railing, staring out into the night.

I said, “Once Rita is safe, I want to go home. My mother’s got to be going crazy with worry!”

“I’ll try to help you,” he said, his voice low and concerned. “But without the visor—”

“Maybe Dr. Crowell can help,” I blurted. “Is there any way to find him?”

He stared at the floor. I’d insulted him.

“Please don’t take this wrong,” I said quickly. “I’m sure Dr. Crowell couldn’t have invented the visor without your help. But you know the old saying—two heads are better than one.”

“You’ve got a point I’ll write to his p.o. box and tell him about you. Hopefully, he’s having his mail forwarded to wherever he is. When he hears the visor worked, I’m pretty sure he’ll come back.”

I sat down on a wicker chair, relief flowing through me. Then something occurred to me. If Dr. Crowell returned and claimed rightful credit for the visor, what would become of Sky? And
Kyle?

Would Sky be destined to fetch the coffee forever? Without the prestige of being an inventor, would he still attract Kyle’s grandmother?

What if I returned to my time and Kyle had not been born?

25

Saturday morning brought rain. My sister
didn’t mind. She tilted her head back, laughing up at the sky as the silver drops splashed down on her, plastering her tie-dyed T-shirt to her body.

We’d taken the bus to downtown Seattle, and now we were headed along the wet sidewalk, on our way to meet Ben and Shane.

Rita leapt into a puddle, splattering us both and then twirled about gleefully. That was an interesting thing about kids in this era. They seemed to revel in nature—even if it was soaking them to the skin.

Teenagers in 2070 were generally more reserved, buttoning up against the cold and avoiding everything but the most comfortable of conditions. Kyle would think Rita had brain-drag if he could see her dancing along the sidewalk, raindrops glistening on her forehead, her hair in wet ringlets. But I got into the spirit of things, singing with her as we strolled along.

My sister’s good mood faded when we plopped down at the counter next to Shane and he told us, “I don’t know what happened to Ben. He’s probably out drinking.”

I, of course, was relieved. The less Ben was around, the better! But Rita’s face fell and she said three was a crowd and maybe she should just go home. “Please stay,” I pleaded.

Despite the fact I would have loved to have been alone with Shane—who looked gorgeous in a fringed suede jacket that matched his eyes—I wasn’t letting Rita out of my sight. It was simply too dangerous. So the three of us headed for Seattle Center. “I want to go up in the Space Needle,” I’d told them.

The truth was, I wanted to keep my promise to Suki. I’d found her mother in the yellow pages of the Mills’ phone book. Madame Trudy Calacort read tarot cards in the corner of a bookstore near the Seattle Center.

Shane had parked his car in a nearby parking lot, but we were just a half mile from our destination, so we decided to walk. When we passed the bookstore, I pretended interest in a book displayed in the window. Inside, as Rita and Shane became engrossed in the books, I slipped to the back of the store.

“What would you like to know?” Madame Calacort asked, shuffling cards with deft but stubby fingers and gazing at me through pale blue eyes so much like Suki’s I gasped in surprise.

I sat down at the wobbly card table and said, “Actually, I have something to tell
you.
”

She possessed the confidence Suki lacked. It showed on her heart-shaped face as she brushed away a lock of blond hair and appraised me with a sweeping glance.

“You have a daughter,” I blurted. “And she forgives you!”

“You must have mistaken me with someone else,” she said crisply. “I have no children.”

“Your daughter, Suki, will be born a century from now. She’ll have your eyes and blond hair.”

“Are you on drugs or something?” she asked suspiciously.

“I’m psychic like you, I know things about the future. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Look, I’m tired of you teenagers coming in here and making a joke out of my tarot cards. This is my job and I don’t have time to—”

“Suki will have another distinct trait,” I interrupted. “Her eyes will be wide and blue, but not
exactly
like yours. There is something unique about them she must have inherited from another relative. Her pupils have jagged edges.”

Realization crept reluctantly over her face and she blurted, “My father had jagged pupils!”

“Your daughter inherited them—or rather, she
will
Suki will be very lonely because she’ll be raised by uncaring scientists. But she said to tell you she forgives you for selling her embryo.”

Madame Calacort bounded from her chair. “Who are you?” she bellowed. “Why are you tormenting me?”

“It doesn’t matter I kept my promise to Suki!”

Unsatisfied with my response, she barreled toward me and her long red skirt ripped as it caught on a nail on a bookshelf.

“Who sent you?” she cried, her oniony breath hot on my face. “Who told you about my father’s eyes?”

Sharp fingernails sunk into my wrist. I jerked away, but she lunged at me, the bookshelf still hooked to her skirt. The shelf toppled over and as books thudded to the floor, I turned and fled, flying past Shane and Rita, who followed me outside.

“What was
that
all about?” Rita asked me as we hurried across the street.

“I don’t know. She must be crazy!” I said shakily, and stole a glance over my shoulder. The black window of the bookshop winked strangely in the gray day’s light, like an evil eye, watching me scornfully.

“Let’s skip the Space Needle,” I said. “Just
looking
at it makes me dizzy!”

I wanted to get as far away from Madame Calacort as possible!

“Let’s ride the ferry to Bainbridge Island,” Rita suggested. “Sometimes we stay on it all day, riding back and forth.”

The ferry was several stories high and roomy enough for hundreds of people. But this day only a sprinkling of travelers roamed about or lounged on some of the dozens of long vinyl seats by the windows.

As we pulled away from Seattle, Rita strolled off by herself. For the first time, I felt safe letting her out of my sight. How in the world could Ben hurt her when she was on a boat in the middle of Puget Sound?

Shane took my hand and led me to the ferry’s outside lower deck where we watched the hazy blue-green landscape glide by. We stood shoulder to shoulder, feeling the brisk salty breeze blow off the water. The wind was so strong it snatched our breath away when we faced it. So we turned toward each other and soon we were kissing. Our hair streamed behind us, gold and chestnut strands mingling together in the breeze.

I snuggled into the warmth of Shane’s arms, wishing I’d been born in this time, wishing I could stay forever and maybe—someday—marry him. We’d buy a farm and while he was planting and watching green things grow, I would create breathtaking paintings in a studio set up in the corner of our barn with the cows looking over my shoulder.

The perfect little picture frayed at the edges and blurred. How could I enjoy my life knowing I’d hurt the only mother I’d ever known?

I’d find a way to get back to her. My decision was made. But it weighed like a pile of rocks in the middle of my stomach.

“You want coffee or something?” Shane asked. “There’s a snack bar here on the ferry.”

We’d reached the island and stayed on the boat, which was now heading back toward Seattle. While Shane went to get drinks, I checked on Rita. She was outside on the upper deck, still stung because Ben had stood her up. She stared out at the shrinking, forested island, tears trickling down her face.

I touched her shoulder. “You’re better off without him.”

“How do you know?” she sobbed angrily. “How can you be so
sure
about your premonition? If you’re so psychic, what am I thinking right now?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“That’s what I
thought
!
You don’t know Ben. And you don’t know anything about our relationship!”

Frustration bubbled up inside me. I’d gone through so much to help her and she would not let me! Rita was on a full-speed track toward tragedy and she would not listen to her own sister.

Suddenly, I couldn’t stand it. “I
do
know!” I cried, and the whole story came gushing out—from my discovery of her diary to my trip back in time.

She stared at me through eyes flat with disbelief. Her expression unnerved me. Unflinching. Coldly calm. The stillness of her face starkly contrasted with the wildness of her long hair whipping in the wind.