I haven’t even taken two steps before Cooper gently tugs on my elbow and draws me close to him. “And try to find out where your father is,” he whispers in my ear.
“What…” By the time I twirled around to ask what the hell he’s talking about, he’s already climbed back into the Rover. I watch in disbelief as he rolls out of the driveway.
Find out where my father is? Isn’t he already here in this reality? From the way Cooper was talking, I assumed it was my father calling the shots. Cooper drops me off in some alternate reality under the auspice that my father is here waiting for me. So where the hell is he?
There’s no turning back at this point. Apprehension sets back in as I slowly approach the house. The Land Rover is long gone and I don’t have a cell phone—not that I have anyone I can call—so I there’s no other choice but to enter the enormous house. Maybe the nice looking woman won’t call the cops on me when I waltz into her home uninvited.
I loiter in the foyer for a moment or two, while my senses pick up the rich smells emanating from the kitchen. I decide to let my sense of smell lead the way. It seems like a safe bet, considering I don’t know the layout of the house. I let my nose navigate like an internal GPS system.
Once I figure out where the kitchen is, I spot the woman chopping up onions on a massive butcher block atop the black granite countertop. She glances up as I enter the room and her smile appears genuine. Catching me off guard, I’m only capable of offering a meek smile in return. It looks like I interrupted her in the middle of preparing dinner. I still can’t fathom why she isn’t surprised to see me, so I play along. I can’t put my finger on it, but I know I recognize her from somewhere.
I’m at a total loss on what to do next, as I watch the lady transfer the chopped onions into a big pot over the stove. In the span of an hour, I’ve traveled to a different reality, I find out my father is allegedly missing, and I have no idea who this person cooking dinner is. I’ve definitely crossed over into the Twilight Zone.
“How was class?” She wipes her hands on the apron she’s wearing and moves away from the stove—it smells heavenly, like some kind of stew—and places a steaming pot of hot coffee on the kitchen island in front of me. Not exactly sure what to do, I reach for one of the mugs she’d placed near the pot and help myself. This has to be the teenage equivalent of being served milk and cookies after school.
“Uh, fine, I guess.” After pouring myself a cup, I grab a seat at the large wooden table in the middle of the kitchen. Even though the house has a kitchen with modern stainless steel appliances, I can tell whoever designed the place has an affinity for expensive antiques. And by antiques, I mean old. I run my hand over the groves of the old farm wood table and wonder how old the piece actually is. Judging by its age, it must have cost a fortune.
The coffee is beginning to perk my senses, instantly bringing me back to my present surroundings and I carefully observe the woman again, who’s gone back to stirring the pot on the stove. She’s too old to be my mother and I have no idea as to who she is. It’s not like I can ask her. This isn’t going to be as easy as Cooper made it out to be.
“So how was your day?” It’s the only thing I can ask without giving myself away. Maybe she’ll throw me a bone and give me a clue as to who she is. As I wait for her to answer, I wonder what my father does for a living. He’s probably a lawyer or some kind of politician. We are in the D.C. area after all.
She adds a few more spices to the pot and turns around to face me. “It was fine, dear. Thank you for asking. Now, who was that handsome young man who brought you home today?”
This time, I’m able to reciprocate with a full smile. She’s definitely not my mother. I don’t have any experience when it comes to having my own mother around, but I had plenty of time observing them as a foster kid. Most moms would grill their daughters about strange men bringing them home after school. But this woman is simply curious. Somehow, it doesn’t seem right, not knowing who she is. Cooper could have at least told me who she was before ditching me on her front doorstep.
“That was Cooper. He gave me a ride home.” That’s a safe answer, right?
“Well that was awfully nice of him. Oh, that reminds me. You should be getting your car back in a couple of days.”
“My car?” Perhaps this little reality change isn’t such a bad idea after all. So far, I live in a nice house, I have my own car, and the woman looks happy to have me here. Damn, I wish I could ask who she is to me. Judging from her features, she looks a little like me, so she has to be some kind of relative. Maybe that’s why she looks so familiar to me. Then again, brunettes (hers is of the salt and pepper variety) with matching brown eyes is pretty commonplace, so she could be just about anyone. For all I know, she’s the housekeeper.
The woman nods. “I spoke to the mechanic today and they are still waiting for the part to come in. He said something about the part having to come directly from the Mini plant in England.”
Awesome. Not only do I have a car, I have a Mini Cooper. Too bad it’s in the shop. I only hope I’ll get it back in time before this whole alternate reality bit plays out. The way things are going, who knows what’s going to happen next. But so far, this is shaping up to be an okay world after all.
From the kitchen, I hear the front door open and slam shut. Can it be my dad returning home from work? Cooper must have been mistaken when he implied he was missing. I crane my neck as far as it will go for a better view of the hallway. My jaw drops for the second time that afternoon.
“Hey, what happened to you after school? I waited like, half an hour for you.”
She has glorious blond platinum hair in this reality too. Cooper didn’t say just how much this life here paralleled the one back at Dominion House. Okay, he said it would be similar, but still, what’s she doing here? This really is some sort of alternate dimension. Almost like a remake of a bad B movie, starring me in the lead role.
“Jaime!” I want to run up and hug her, but I know this will cast suspicion on me. With her strolling into the house, I imagine this is normal and I’m not supposed to be excited to see her. “Uh, sorry, I got a ride home after school.”
She sits down on the nearby stool and studies me with interest. “You could have at least told me you were getting a ride. Just because your car’s in the shop doesn’t mean you can take advantage of our friendship,” she teases.
“Sorry.” I don’t have to feign feeling bad for having her wait for me. I really do feel bad.
Jaime helps herself to some coffee. “So, who’d you hitch a ride from?”
Still distracted by her presence, I wasn’t paying attention to what she just said. “What? Sorry.”
“A boy,” the woman answers for me. “What did you say his name was? Cooper?” Lucky for me, she caught Jaime’s question. It saves me the trouble of having to answer her myself. I’m still in shock at seeing my best friend waltz into the kitchen.
“Cooper? Do I know him? He sounds cute. Does he go to Dominion?”
“Dominion?” Like the foster home? Surely we aren’t still living at Dominion House in this reality. And if we are, then why we are hanging out in this lady’s kitchen? Cooper said I lived here, not back at the foster home. Jaime hasn’t said more than three sentences and I’m already confused. I guess I better get used to that.
“Yeah, hello? Earth to Etta. That’s the place where we spend most of our day reading books and learning absolutely nothing that’s going to be of use to us in the real world,” she says. “Like calculus.”
Reality check: Jaime is still around and we attend a school called Dominion, not Alexandria High. This is turning out to be more like an episode plucked straight out of the Outer Limits, not the Twilight Zone. Cooper’s right; I do watch too much TV. Whenever I was placed in an unfavorable foster home—which was always the case—I was able to escape via syndication. At the time, I enjoyed the weird plots and storylines. Now those storylines serve as a reference point that’s beginning to freak me
out.
It’s pretty clear what I have to do. If I’m going to figure out anything about this new life in this world, I’m going to have to think fast. I need to pry information out of these two without alarming them.
“Yeah, I know, but it reminds me of this weird dream I had last night. I dreamt that I was an orphan and was shuffled from foster home to foster home for years. I ended up living at this place called Dominion House for Girls. You were there too Jaime.” With any luck, they’d counter the contradictions in my dream.
Jaime snorts. “Thank god I don’t have to live in a place like that. It sounds awful. I don’t even want to think about what would have happened to me if the Thornberry’s hadn’t adopted me.”
That explains Jaime showing up at the house. Now I’m getting somewhere. She’s an orphan in this reality too, only this time around, she’s adopted and lives down the street.
“Etta, what a horrible dream. Why would you dream something like that?” The woman comes over and kisses the top of my head. “I’m glad you don’t live in a place like that either. Not that there’s any reason why you would.”
“Yeah, your Aunt Maggie is the best,” Jaime says, looking over at the pepper haired woman.
Eureka. So the woman is my aunt. Knowing that pleases me for some reason. I’ve never been around family before, but if I had, she’s the kind of aunt I’d imagine myself having. So that’s another mystery down. That just leaves my father. And Cooper’s vagueness about my mom is becoming clear. I have a sneaking suspicion she’s out of the picture. That’s probably why my aunt is here. It’s not much information to go on, but it’s a start.
Aunt Maggie goes back to the stove and places a lid over the bubbling pot. “Girls, I’m off to get some laundry done before dinner. Don’t ruin your appetite drinking all that coffee.”
As soon as she leaves the room, Jaime hops off the stool and slides into the chair next to mine at the table. She leans in towards me. “Okay, spill. Who’s this Cooper guy and what about Alex?”
Crap. This is an explanation I’m not ready to get into. “No one. Just some guy I know who gave me a ride.” Who the hell is Alex?
“Sure,” she says, leaning back into the chair. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Alex. But I want details girl.”
“I swear. There’s nothing to tell.”
“Uh, huh. Glad you’re okay though. I was really worried when you didn’t show up after class,” she says. “Hey, didn’t you just get home? What happened to your uniform?”
Dominion must be a private school. I look over at Jaime and notice her school uniform for the first time. I then look down at my own ensemble of jeans and worn t-shirt. I wonder why Maggie hadn’t noticed. “I changed right after I got home.”
“Oh. Well, anyways, I gotta get back home. I’m still grounded for breaking curfew last weekend. I just stopped by to check up on you. You know, to make sure you got home okay.”
“Thanks for coming over.” And I mean it. By Jaime stopping by, I was able to glean what little information I could from the two of them.
While my Aunt Maggie is doing laundry, I take the opportunity and go in search of my bedroom. I climb up the stairs and poke my head in all the different rooms. There are six bedrooms in all. The smaller one has actually been converted into an upstairs office and the last bedroom I peek into can be best described as one occupied by a teenage girl. It’s the kind of room I would occupy if I lived in this house, which apparently I do.
I never paid much attention to bedrooms because they were never permanent places for me, but even I have to admit, the room is stunning. I think the style is called country chic, complete with handmade quilts covering the bed and nearby ottoman. The furniture is made of reclaimed wood and the walls are painted a warm olive color with white wainscot paneling covering the bottom half. My body instantly relaxes at the sight. My very own room.
The excitement of today’s revelations finally takes its toll on me. All I want to do right now is take a nap. I run my hand over the quilt and crawl into bed. The flowery scents of the crisp cotton sheets beneath me draw me in and I feel a little guilty indulging in the moment. This is someone else’s room and I’m an imposter. As much as I want to continue investigating my new surroundings—to prove to myself this isn’t just some crazy dream—I can’t seem to keep my eyes open.
Chapter Eight
A Ride to School
“Etta, wake up!” I cautiously open one eye and see that it’s Jaime, nudging me out of a well deserved sleep. She keeps tugging on my arm. “You have to get ready for school.”
“I…what?” I forget where I am for a moment and wonder what Jaime is talking about. I can’t seem to shake the dream I was having. It was different than the other ones I’d been having the last couple of weeks. This one seemed even more real than before. I dreamt I’d been taken to another dimension and lived in a beautiful stone house. Even the sweet scent of the linens still lingers in the air. But it has to be a dream because Jaime is here, waking me up.
“Come on! Get up.” Jaime is starting to get annoying. It’s way too early to be so demanding.
“Alright, I’m up.” I sit up in bed and clean the gunk that’s itching the hell out of the corner of my eye.
I glance past Jaime’s shoulder and the room suddenly comes into focus. Everything that happened the day before comes flooding back and I realize it isn’t a dream. I scowl as Jaime tries to pry me out of bed. I almost ask her to pinch me to make sure all this is really real. It dawns on me for the first time that I’m now in the company of family and friends and I know I won’t be missed in the other world. There’s no one back there to miss me. Everyone that matters is right here.
“Maggie asked me to come wake you up. Now get dressed and let’s get some breakfast. You have fifteen minutes.” Jaime runs out of the room and leaves me to get ready.
I don’t know which is worse, having my best friend share a room with me, or having her live down the street and pop in whenever she feels like it. Mornings are definitely not my most shining hour, especially when I have someone nagging me to wake up.
Considering my upbringing, I was never much of a clothes horse, so I hope whatever waits for me in the closet is decent. Just because I’ve taken back this version of me, doesn’t mean I have the same sense of style. But my curiosity will have to wait a few minutes more until after I clean myself up, so I walk past the closet, resisting the urge to open it, and head straight for the shower.
Leave it to me not to notice it before, but my bathroom is en suite—I learned that term in school. My very own private bathroom! I do a little jig. I totally take advantage and indulge in a long hot shower. It’s nice not having to share a community bathroom or worry about using up all the hot water. I can get used to this kind of life.
After ten glorious minutes, I reluctantly step out of the shower and pad my way back into the bedroom to take a look at the closet. Taking a look inside, I’m disappointed to find row after row of dresses. Nothing fancy, just simple sundresses and one-piece jumpers. I hope this isn’t my everyday wear aside from school. Venturing further back, I spy a few pairs of jeans, a few dozen t-shirts, and some sweaters. I must have favored a more feminine touch in this world, but for now, I’m happy to don the school uniform I’m required to wear. All that’s left is to finger comb my hair and I’m all set.
Using the full-length mirror attached to the closet, I take a long hard look at my reflection staring back at me. The pleated khaki skirt and white polo shirt (complete with the school’s crest in the upper left corner), isn’t what I picture as far as private school uniform go, but at least it’s casual.
Jaime raps on the door. “Breakfast? Maggie went crazy again and made enough for an army,” she announces, making her way back into the hallway.
Does she spend all her time here? I’m grateful to have her around, but I don’t think I can take this type of abuse every morning. I quickly check my appearance one last time before tearing myself away from the
mirror. I certainly don’t feel like the girl staring back at me in the private school uniform, but I guess this is my life now: new reality, new house, and new clothes.
“Coming,” I yell down. I check to make sure I have everything I need. Looking around, I spot a designer looking handbag on the desk. I rummage through its contents: gum, tissue paper, a wallet, and a cell phone—definitely need the latter two, so grab those. I don’t see any text books or notebooks lying around, but I manage to find an old backpack hidden behind the mess of dresses in the closet—the fancy purse has to go. The backpack will have to do until I figure out where I kept my school stuff. I shove my wallet and cell into the side compartment and I’m all set.
Sure enough, Maggie is bustling around the kitchen. I detect the scent of waffles. Without turning around, Maggie busies herself in front of the counter, manning the waffles. But she knows when I enter the room. “Well good morning, dear. How did you sleep? You looked so peaceful sleeping last night, I didn’t bother to call you down for dinner.” She flips the waffle maker over.
There’s no excuse for bad manners, even if I did grow up without a proper family. “Good morning. I slept well, thanks. Sorry I missed dinner.” And I truly am. I didn’t mean to stretch my nap into the early morning. I bet the stew from last night was delicious. I make a mental note to ask about any leftovers when I return home from school.
Maggie just smiles and hands me a plate of waffles. I don’t think I’ve ever seen or smelled anything so yummy. “You two girls eat up,” she encourages us, as I graciously accept the food. Sitting beside my plate is a bowl of homemade whipped cream and I greedily help myself to a couple of dollops.
“Blueberry waffles? What’s the occasion?” Jaime asks. “Normally it’s just regular old pancakes.”
“Who cares? They’re delicious,” I say, stuffing my face. Seriously, this is the best breakfast I’ve ever had. I wonder if this is a normal morning here at the Fleming household. As I chew, I watch Jaime accept a couple of waffles from my aunt and proceed to drown them in syrup.
Parallel (Travelers Series Book 1) Page 5
