“You’d be surprised how dying and coming back can change a person,” Chris said. “I hope we can still be friends.”
“Friends? We’re more like sisters.” Then her expression became serious for the first time. “I really was worried about you, hon. Did you say dying and coming back?”
“Yes, I did die. I got a second chance.”
Joya reached out and touched her arm. “You actually came back from the dead? I can’t believe it. Remember when we were kids and watched HEAVEN CAN WAIT with Warren Beatty? How neat we thought that was, that you could get a second chance. Hallie, you got that chance! Look, it gives me chills!”
Chris got chills, too, but not because of her second chance. Hallie didn’t get another chance. At least not that she knew of.
“I’ve decided to make the most of my life now that I’ve got it.”
Joya leaned forward, as if sharing a secret. “Are you still going to run off with Mick? I blame myself for introducing you to that guy. If I hadn’t dragged you to La Moustache that night, you would never have met him. It was bad enough you only being able to visit for a week once every two months, but now you’re going to be too far away to visit!”
“I’m not going to France. Joya, I don’t know where these people fit into my life anymore. I don’t know Mick.”
Joya pushed out her bottom lip. “Aw, I’m sorry, honey. I keep forgetting. It’s just that I can’t believe you don’t remember that much. You look, well, you look fine. A little tired maybe, but otherwise, just like your old self.”
Chris warmed under her friend’s sympathetic gaze. “You’re going to have to bear with me until my my memory… until things are back to normal.” Which would be never.
When a clock somewhere in the room chimed six bells, Chris remembered dinner. “I’ve got to get ready for dinner. Thanks for coming by, and call me soon.”
Joya gave her a hug and an air kiss on each cheek. “Take care, hon. I will call, I promise. We’ll get together when you’re up to it.”
Her friend stood up and tugged her suede mini skirt over her hips, her gold bangles jingling with every movement. Chris wondered how Joya could do anything with nails that long. Heck, even going to the bathroom could be a dangerous proposition. Chris had found that out right away and filed hers down.
“It sure was nice mee—seeing you again, Joya.”
“Yeah, you too, hon. If you need anything, anything at all, call me. You know, of course, that you can stay at my place if you need to.”
“Thanks, I’ll remember that.”
Joya strode out of the room, turning and sending her another air kiss before leaving. Chris headed toward the door, pausing only briefly when she glimpsed the blonde in the mirror. She didn’t know if she would ever get used to looking the way she did. When she walked out of the living room and started for the staircase, a voice stopped her.
“I see you’re catching up with old friends.”
She turned to see Jamie leaning against the wet bar. He was clean-shaven, wearing a crisp white shirt and a casual jacket. The crystal chandelier above spun fiery highlights in his blond hair. He looked debonair, a word she had never used before to describe any man she had known. The tired look was gone from his features, but something in his eyes made them icy cold, lending an edge to his remark.
Chris smiled nervously. “I don’t remember her. She seems… nice.”
His smile showed no trace of warmth. “Don’t let that fool you. But I’m sure everything will come back soon enough. It sure sounded like you two were laughing it up as usual.”
Her eyes narrowed, and the tone of his voice chilled her. Looking at the close proximity of the wet bar to the living room doors, she asked, “Were you eavesdropping?”
He shrugged without a trace of shame. “Old habits are hard to break.”
What had she gotten herself into here? She felt as if she had walked into the middle of a movie! She had no lines, no idea what had happened up to that point. Give me my script so I’ll know my part!
“I guess I’d better get upstairs and change.” Nodding toward the dining room across the way, she added, “It looks like dinner’s almost ready.” A uniformed woman was setting the table and pouring water into crystal glasses. Without giving him much chance to respond, she padded up the stairs to her room.
From Jamie’s attire, she guessed dinners at Theresa’s to be formal affairs. She was not a formal person. In fact, the last time she had dressed up was for prom six years earlier. That made her think of something else. How old was Hallie anyway? Something else to add to the list of things to find out.
All she could find in her search through the armoire and closet were slinky dresses she’d be too embarrassed to try on for fun, much less wear to dinner with her mother-in-law and the stranger who was her husband. The things Hallie had packed were even worse. Finally, she settled for a light blue, calf-length dress with spaghetti straps and thin material that clung to her new figure. It barely covered the top of her chest, but it was already quarter past six, and she didn’t want to cause any more of a fuss than she apparently had before. As a last minute addition, she threw a shawl over her shoulders.
When she walked into the dining room, Jamie and Theresa were already seated and in deep discussion. They stopped abruptly when they heard her approach. Theresa nodded toward the chair across from Jamie, and Chris took her seat.
“You look nice tonight,” Jamie said, although his expression lacked the appreciation that might usually go with the compliment. “Back to normal, except for the shawl.”
Theresa made a humph sound under her breath. Chris felt more than self-conscious about her dress, but smiled. Should she dump the shawl or wrap it more tightly around her?
“Thank you, Jamie. I didn’t get a chance to tell you how handsome you looked when we met in the foyer earlier.”
“I see your internal clock is still set for arriving late,” Theresa said.
She had successfully interfered with her compliment and made her feel like an ill-mannered child with one simple comment.
“Mom,” Jamie murmured in admonition.
As Chris started working on the salad in front of her, a uniformed woman began taking away the other two salad plates. When she approached her, Chris let her take her plate too. A few minutes later, a bowl of thick spaghetti was set in front of her. Her stomach growled, and she futilely bit her lip to calm it. In her family, something like that was funny, and everyone teased and laughed about it. Here she felt as if she had committed a travesty.
As soon as she finished her spaghetti, another plate was put in front of her, this time a pork chop and vegetables sautéed in olive oil. Her stomach was already tied up in knots, and the rich smell of the oil made her appetite flee. She ignored Jamie’s occasional glances in her direction as she pushed her food around on the plate.
“Are you all right?” he asked after a while.
Theresa clanked her fork on her plate. “She never ate much. At least not in my home.”
Chris wanted to kick her under the table, but that was out of the question. The little Italian spitfire made it obvious how she felt about her son’s wife.
Chris looked across the table at Jamie. “No, I’m feeling a bit tired. I think I’ll go up to my room.” As she rose, she remembered her manners and turned to Theresa. “Excuse me, please.”
Theresa waved her away as if dismissing a servant, then returned to eating. Jamie, however, surprised her by standing.
“I’ll walk you up.”
Chris had to keep the look of shock from her face. One minute he was treating her like a dog, the next, like someone he cared about.
“Go ahead and eat. I’ll be fine.”
“I insist.”
He was at her side, leading her out of the dining room by her elbow. Theresa’s reproving look didn’t escape Chris’s notice and probably wasn’t intended to be subtle.
When they reached the top of the stairs, she turned to him. “Thank you for
walking me up.”
“I didn’t want you to get dizzy and fall down the stairs.”
“That was thoughtful of you.” His touch on her elbow felt warm on her skin. “Do you have any videos here? Of me? Us? Maybe they’ll jog some memories.”
His expression was strange, almost melancholy. “There are a couple in the conservatory. I’ll get them.”
He returned a few minutes later, handing her two DVDs. “This is all I could find.”
She glanced at the labels on the two cases: Jamie’s and Hallie’s Wedding and Summer Parties/Misc. “Is there a DVD player nearby?”
He walked down a darkened hallway, passed the room he slept in, and turned on a light. She followed him into what appeared to be another living room, only smaller. He gave her quick instructions on operating the television and player. When he turned from the television, his expression was serious.
“I may not always be the first to admit when I’m wrong.” As if he expected her to reply, he quickly added, “Or the last. But maybe it was a mistake you coming here.”
She felt panic creep like heat up her neck. “What do you mean?” What had she done?
“My mother, of course. I knew you could relax here, and still be close to your friends. I figured with you being frail and recovering, Mom would be more understanding. But you’re far from frail, and she’s far from understanding.”
His smile warmed the chill in her heart, but she wasn’t sure what he was getting at. “You want me to leave?”
“Hallie, when I saw you in the hospital, come back to life after dying, you looked so vulnerable. Despite everything we’ve been through these past two years, it’s my duty, as your husband, to take care of you. To protect you.” His hand subconsciously moved up over his heart. “When you chose to stay with me, I figured you were helping me to save face in front of Mick. I appreciate that, but your heart is with someone else, and I realize it’s not fair to keep you to your decision.”
Her grip on the DVDs tightened. Mental pictures of Mick kneeling by her bedside, love dripping from his eyes; of Velvet, the stranger who was her mother; of Joya. Jamie, sometimes icy, sometimes something else. Jamie, who considered it his duty to take care of her, as if she was an illegitimate child! Anger mixed with her frustration, and she fought the tears that threatened to overflow.
“Do you want me to leave?”
“It’s not what I want, it’s what you want.”
She swallowed hard and squared her shoulders. “If you want me to leave, just say it.” She had no idea where she would go if he did say the word, but she wasn’t going to stay where she wasn’t welcome.
He seemed to weigh his words carefully. “Tell me what you want to do.”
“I want to stay.”
Something warm sparkled in his eyes, if only for an instant. “You’re free to stay as long as you need to. All I ask is that you not bring Mick here. Not into my mother’s house.”
“That won’t be a problem.” The more she thought about him, the more he gave her the creeps.
“Let’s get you to bed,” he said. “You look tired.”
The bedroom looked cozy and romantic with the lace draped over the four posts on the bed. The antique brass light filled the room with a warm, peach glow.
“If you need anything, I’ll be downstairs for a while, then on the other side of the balcony.” He hesitated for a moment, then closed the door.
She sat down on the bed, realizing the room had lost its romantic feel now that Jamie had left. At least she was comfortable here, if not in the rest of the house. With tile and marble floors, high ceilings and dark wood everywhere, the place seemed more like a castle than a home. Beautiful but untouchable. Like Jamie himself.
She only needed a couple of weeks to get on her feet emotionally. To figure out who she was and where she wanted to go. Jamie would be all right. He had told her that earlier, hadn’t he?
After searching through every drawer for a nightgown, she finally found a deep blue peignoir with the tags still attached. She slipped it on, imagining it was her old body in the silky gown and robe. Long t-shirts were bedtime fare for her, sometimes with teddy bears or kittens on them. The cuter, the better. Not fancy, sexy things. She didn’t need anything fancy to impress her family and dogs. She found herself drifting over to the mirror above the dresser, again startled to find someone else staring back. Would she ever get used to that?
CHAPTER 3
Nightmares about bridges haunted her sleep; crashing metal, shattering glass and screams. Chris bolted upright, hand to pounding heart, as the echoes of words drifted away from her.
Find his heart.
That was all she could grasp as wakefulness found her and yanked her up from the depths. Then that was gone too.
She rolled to the side of the bed and stretched down to—nothing. Then she remembered, and reality left her cold and chilled. She was Hallie. Her furry friends weren’t lying on the floor next to her bed. Her Shetland sheepdogs weren’t there to give her comfort by their presence alone, weren’t there to offer their warmth or accept a hug. She stared into the darkness.
“Phoenix, my buddy. Where are you? Shelby, Tubby?”
The strange sound of her voice, softer, more refined than her old one, echoed in the room. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she huddled in a ball, trying to remember her other life as Chris. Just a week before, she had sat at a much-used dining table with her parents and three sisters, Paula, Charlene, and little Bernice. The Shelties were lying at her feet, pretending not to beg. Mom had been talking to Chris’s sister, Paula:
“You gotta eat more than that if you’re supporting a little one in your belly!”
“Mom, how can I eat much when I know I’m just gonna throw it up again?” Paula had rubbed her belly.
Bernice made ralphing noises until her mother silenced them with a look.
“Isn’t normal, you getting sick at five months. I only got sick for the first two months with all four of you. What does Dr. Roy say about it?”
Paula cocked her head as she always did when Mom worried too much. “He said everyone is different and that we shouldn’t worry.”
Mom tilted her curly head up indignantly. “I’ll worry all I want. You’re carrying my first grandbaby.”
Paula’s husband, Kerry, leaned over and put an arm around his mother-in-law. “Mom, do you think I’d let our girl wait one minute before going to the doctor if I thought something was wrong?”
“Don’t worry about Paullywog,” Chris had chimed in. “She’s in good hands with all of us breathing down her neck.”
Chris didn’t realize she was crying until a teardrop splattered on her knee. Her mouth was so tightly stretched into a grimace that she couldn’t make it go away. She wanted to go home. Home. That thought released a sluice of tears that froze up her nose as her whole body shook with sobs. Sheesh, the last thing she needed was Jamie to hear her crying.
The thought of going home had occurred to her, maybe a thousand times. But how could she tell her family and Alan that she was actually Chris in a different body? What would it do to her father’s fragile heart? He would think someone was playing a cruel trick on them, and when she disclosed details that only she would know, he might be so overwhelmed his heart would give out. She could never forgive herself for that. Besides, it wouldn’t be the same, not with her family or friends.
Then there was her mission, from He who gave her a second chance. Find his heart.
She followed the soft orange glow of the nightlight to the bathroom, purposely avoiding the mirror for two reasons: the disconcerting feeling every time she saw a stranger looking back, and that this time the stranger would have puffy red eyes and tear streaks down her cheeks. She blew her nose and washed her face. The two DVDs caught her eye.
Peering out into the dark hallway, she listened for any sounds in the deep night. Jamie’s bedroom door was ajar, and she studied the slit of black to see if he might be standing there. She could make out no
distinct shape. No doubt, he was lying there in blissful sleep, unaware that a stranger slept across the balcony from him.
When she reached the living room, she turned on the lights. To her chagrin, there was no door to close. She turned the volume knob way down. She chose the wedding DVD first.
She turned off the lights, sat on the floor, and leaned against the burgundy leather chair. She studied every move Hallie made, the way she laughed and talked, the way she walked, or more like sauntered across the room. Chris realized then that she still walked in her old style, casual with a slight bounce. That’s because you still see yourself the way you used to look. The reason she was always startled at the mirror’s image.
Weddings always made her cry, and this one was no exception. It was hard to relate herself to the woman in the video. Hallie was in control, confident and sexy. Even in a white wedding dress and on the arm of the most handsome man there, the other men in the video gawked at her. Chris was sure she’d never received one single look like the ones those men were giving Hallie. No, she was an average girl, nowhere near glamorous.
Although her goal was to study Hallie, her gaze kept drifting to Jamie. She had never seen a more debonair, charming man in her life. Debonair. There was that word again. Oh, did it fit. In his black tuxedo, setting off his light hair and vivid blue eyes, he could easily be a movie star. Those finely chiseled features, high cheekbones and sensual lips. And his crooked smile. She caught herself grinning every time he did. He was the kind of guy she had had crushes on in high school, the ones who treated her like a little sister or one of the guys. Being a tomboy did have its drawbacks. Those guys always went for girls who looked like Hallie.
Their reception was held in a huge, formal banquet room with crystal sconces and chandeliers. The party itself was nothing near formal and stuffy. Jamie whispered in Hallie’s ear during their dance, and she blushed before nibbling his chin in response. Then, for the camera, she winked and pinched his buttocks, which elicited a wiggle from him.
During the toast, her glass of champagne splashed over the side of her glass and down to her elbow. Jamie ran his tongue down the length of her arm, licking off all traces of the champagne. He made the most of the garter removal, moving to the jaunty tune and pulling the garter back up her leg just when he had it to her ankle.
Until I Die Again [On The Way To Heaven] (Soul Change Novel) Page 4
