Allison and Joshua decided the safest thing to do was to spend the night with Magda. That way, neither of them would be near the cliff the morning of the earthquake.
As she had before, Allison curled up in Magda’s extra comforter next to the fireplace. At the other side of the fireplace, Joshua set out his bedroll.
Allison’s sleep was fitful. She kept having flashback dreams of running through the forest in the dark, of being chased and tripping over Sadie’s dead body, of blood smeared and sticky on her hands and feet, of being hurled over the side of the cliff and plummeting down, down, down...
She awoke with a start, her heart beating to the rhythm of hoofbeats in the distance, closer, closer, then fading away. She glanced around. The fire had begun to burn down, but enough light remained to see shapes in the room. She glanced at Joshua’s bedroll.
It was empty.
Her heart leaped into her throat, settling back only to begin a thunderous pounding that filled her ears like the rhythmic roar of a waterfall. The fire of panic shot through her limbs. Where was he? What could possibly have made him leave the cottage?
Allison tore away her covers and tiptoed to Magda’s curtain. She peeked inside. Magda was sound asleep, her breathing soft and rhythmic.
Her heart still pounding in her ears, Allison cracked open the front door and peered outside. The night was dark: Only pale moonlight etched the shape of trees beyond the cottage. Nothing moved, nothing made a sound, nothing but Allison appeared alive.
“Find him,” a voice whispered in her ear. “Find Joshua.”
Allison wondered whether she had heard a voice at all. Perhaps it was her thoughts, loud enough in the stillness of the night to be heard in her ears rather than in her head. That was after all the strongest impulse she was feeling: the desire to find Joshua. It pulsed through the blood that her heart was pumping so strongly in her veins and through the nerves that were creaking inside her limbs like Magda’s old rocker. It was only natural that the impulse be translated into a thought so strong it would sound like a voice in her ears.
She stepped into the yard to have a better look around. Still nothing moved.
“Where could he be?” she muttered under her breath. “Joshua, you fool, how could you go off on your own, tonight of all nights?”
It occurred to her that he might have decided to visit the waterfall cave. Maybe he couldn’t sleep. She could go as far as the cave and check it out. It couldn’t hurt just to go that far. She’d feel better knowing where he was.
When she arrived at the site of the crashing waters, she shivered at the similarity between this night and the other time she had lived through the night of April 17, 1906. Even the moon was identical: a silver sliver hanging among a sprinkling of stars. But of course it was identical—it had to be. In the continuum of time and space, this was the very same night.
That Joshua! If he hadn’t wandered off, she wouldn’t be reliving any of this. In a huff, she picked up her skirts and hurried along the rocky path behind the waterfall to the tiny cave. As with the other time, the cave was deserted, and the bed appeared untouched.
“Oh, Joshua, where could you be?” she wailed aloud. “Well, that does it. I’m going back to Magda’s. If he’s not there by now, maybe Magda will know where he is.”
Allison returned to the forest path and began to wind her way back to the cottage. Halfway there she heard a twig crack and leaves crumble. Her heart jumped. She stood still, listening.
Another twig cracked. Then another.
Her first instinct was to hide behind a bush. It could be just a night prowler—a possum, a raccoon, even Bubba. But at that instant, a voice in her head screamed: “Run! Save me!”
Before she could think, her legs came alive. As if she were a mechanical toy manipulated by remote control, she found herself running deeper and deeper into the forest. All she could do was hold her arms in front of her face to protect it from the ripping claws of outstretched branches.
All the while, the voice screamed: “Hurry, hurry! He’s coming. Run!”
The panic that raced through her veins, and the voice that screamed in her ears and filled her brain, kept her mind a jumble. Somewhere inside her, Allison knew she was doing the wrong thing. She shouldn’t run—she should think. But she couldn’t make her brain listen, and she couldn’t stop Becky’s body from panicking. She felt as though she were reliving her last conscious moments, just after the red Mercedes sent her flying over the ravine. She was locked in a body she couldn’t control, seeing herself flying down, down, down when things had turned around and the rocks below her began to rush up, up, up.
“No!” she screamed. “Nooooo! Sto-oop!”
But Becky’s body continued to run, shrieking back, “Save me! Save me!”
Listen to me, Becky, she spoke to the girl in her head. Stop screaming and listen to me!
“Help me! Run!” Becky screamed.
SHUT UP, BECKY!
The screaming stopped, but Becky’s body kept running.
Listen to me. I am trying to save you, but you’ve got to let me. Now, slow down.
Allison could feel her legs begin to slow.
“Please don’t let me die,” Becky whimpered.
Becky, you’ve got to trust me. Let me think. Let me get us through this. Go back to the hospital. I need you there, Becky. And you need me here. Go back, and let me think.
With a tiny whimper, Becky released control of her body. Becky seemed to be gaining strength in the past—she must be, to have been able to take control of her body like that. Did that also mean she was weakening in the future? Would she be strong enough to keep Allison’s body alive through surgery? Allison realized she needed to resolve Becky’s problem in the past and get back to her own body as soon as possible.
She slowed to a trot, then stopped completely, listening to the sounds of the forest. Her breath was coming in such loud, rough pants she could barely hear the thump-thump of heavy footsteps in the distance. Someone was coming closer, either on his own or following her.
She decided to stay out of sight but not to panic. For all she knew, it might be Joshua. But it also might be Sadie, or someone equally dangerous. She needed to find a good place to hide. Tucking her head to avoid branches, she continued to run down the path, but this time, listening and looking.
Within a few minutes, she broke through the trees into a clearing. It looked familiar. It seemed to be the same clearing she had encountered when she noticed the blood on her hands and dress.
Resisting the panic that bubbled inside her stomach, she held out her hands, allowing the moonlight to illuminate them. They appeared clean. She let out a deep breath. Of course, they were. She hadn’t tripped over a dead body and slipped in its blood. Not this time. She looked down. Her dress was the emerald-green gown, not the faded calico. And it was still clean.
Time was not repeating itself. She had broken the chain.
An explosion of twigs cracking and branches being bent to breaking and snapping back reminded Allison she still had a job to do. She ducked beneath a thick cluster of bushes, peering out in time to see a figure crash through the branches and halt a few feet away, stooping forward and wheezing.
It was all happening again. Maybe she hadn’t broken the chain after all.
In the dim moonlight, she saw the figure of a man whose head oscillated back and forth, scanning the clearing. But this man was not barefoot and shabbily clad. Nor was his head covered with a grubby black mane of hair. This man looked like he had stepped from the cover of a modern romance novel: long black hair, clean and gleaming like raven feathers in the moonlight and tied at the nape of his neck. His face was strong, handsome, and clean shaven. He wore a white shirt with long, billowy sleeves, black vest and pants, and tall black boots.
The man placed his hands on his knees, apparently trying to catch his breath. His wheezing continued, grating like fingernails over sandpaper.
Allison stretched her neck, trying to get a bette
r look. If only she could find a sign that it was José—maybe the crescent-shaped scar on his forehead or the burn on his right arm. But his arms were covered by the long sleeves, and she could only see the side of his face.
As she rose onto her knees to get a better look, she stepped on a twig.
The man’s head snapped toward her, and their eyes met. A look of recognition, then one of disbelief crossed his face. “Isa?” he whispered.
Allison opened her mouth to speak, but nothing would come out. She shook her head.
The man rose to his full height. “Rebecca?” He spoke the name in a strong Spanish accent.
Allison could only stare.
He held out his hand. “Come. Do not be afraid. I will not harm you.”
Allison stood but couldn’t seem to move her legs. The man stepped toward her, reached out, and took her hand. “Please, come. I promise, I will not harm you.”
Despite its strong muscles and tendons, his hand held hers as delicately as if he were holding a thin eggshell. In the light of the moon, she could see the faint shape of a crescent in the middle of his forehead.
“José?” she was finally able to whisper.
A slow smile began to pull the edges of his mouth. But his eyes remained solemn and his gaze fixed on her face. He gave a slight bow from the waist.
“How—how do you know me?” Allison whispered.
José’s eyes, glistening like polished onyx, at last softened. “I’d know Isa’s child anywhere.”
Chapter 30
Allison, where have you been?” Magda was awake and making breakfast—although the sky was still dark, it was already early morning. The look on her face when Allison and José entered the cottage was one of great relief. “Joshua has been frantic.”
Allison rushed to Magda’s side. “Joshua came back?”
“He couldn’t sleep and went out for a walk. When he returned, you were gone. He went back to search the forest for you. I told him José would be looking for you, too, but he insisted on going himself. ”
“And I must return to search for Isa,” José said, pacing the small room. “I must find her before that father of hers—”
“But first you must eat something,” Magda insisted. “You need your strength. You do not know when you will be able to eat again.”
“Perhaps you are right,” he said, finally taking a seat at the table.
Allison, still in awe of Magda’s handsome brother (Becky’s father!), sat across from him and tried to digest all that had happened since José had found her. She could kick herself for not having guessed earlier. Of course, Becky was Isa’s daughter. All the clues had been there, if she’d only paid attention. Doña Ana, when she first saw her, had believed her to be Isa. She and Tere had dismissed the mistake, blaming it on the woman’s drugged and confused state. Then there was the way Don Carlos acted around her—hostile and almost frightened. He must have begun to suspect who she was and feared his secret would somehow be revealed. No wonder he didn’t want her caring for Isa. If Don Carlos had begun to suspect who Becky was, eventually, Isa might, too. And that was why Becky’s face had looked so familiar to her: Becky resembled the seventeen-year-old Isa in the painting.
On the way to the cottage, José told Allison how he had discovered Don Carlos’s secret: For the first day and a half of his arrival with Don Carlos’s buggy, he hid out in the forest, keeping an eye on the estate while he waited for Isa to get his message—the ruby cross—and trying to figure out his next move. He didn’t want to contact Magda right away for fear she would worry and try to talk him out of doing anything dangerous. But on the second night of his return, with no sign of his beloved Isa, he realized he needed to confide in Magda and to find out whether she knew of Isa’s whereabouts.
When he finally decided to approach his sister, Magda had company—Becky and Joshua, who he later found out were bringing her the ruby cross. He waited until Becky and Joshua were gone, and was sure Magda was alone, before approaching her. That night, Magda told him all that had happened since he had been shanghaied, and brought him up to date on what had happened since Tere had returned from San Francisco with the cross. When Magda explained that Sadie was blackmailing Don Carlos, José had felt in his gut it had to do with him and Isa. He asked Magda for the ruby cross and gave it to Sadie in exchange for her knowledge. Sadie was more than willing to betray Don Carlos. She told José that Don Carlos had paid Ned Thompson to kill him and to get rid of the baby. But Ned was no murderer. Instead, he devised a plan to take care of both matters without bloodshed. José was shanghaied, and the baby became a blessing.
His wife, Ruth, had given birth to a baby girl, Rachel, only one week before Becky was born. Rachel died two days later, and Ruth was devastated. When offered the opportunity, Ned brought her a new baby—one who needed love and nurturing and a home. Ruth raised the baby until Ruth died of consumption. Soon after that, Ned married Sadie. Two years later, Ned died during an influenza epidemic, but before he died, he confessed his secret to Sadie. Though Sadie wouldn’t admit it, José remembered her jealousy of Isa. She hated the Cardona Pomales family and saw a way to make Don Carlos pay. She could get rich at the same time.
That night, while Allison was out looking for Joshua, José had returned to Magda’s. It was then that he confessed to Magda about his visit to Sadie’s and what he’d found out about his daughter. Magda then told him what Allison had said about Isa’s fight with Sadie and asked him to keep an eye out for Becky while he was looking for Isa. He had been as eager to find his daughter as he was to find his beloved.
When Allison looked up from her thoughts, she found José’s gaze fixed on her. She felt her cheeks flush.
He smiled. “Forgive me for staring, but you look so much like your mother ... when I last saw her. And, after all, it is not every day one meets a fourteen-year-old daughter one did not know one had.”
“I just wish I had guessed earlier,” Allison replied. She meant that she, Allison, should have guessed. But José misunderstood.
“It was probably just as well you did not,” he said. “How could you have confronted Don Carlos on your own?”
“Maybe Tere could have helped.” Allison realized the moment she mentioned Tere that she was her aunt, or rather, Becky’s aunt.
“Ah, Tere. She certainly has grown, hasn’t she?” he said, glancing at Magda. “She was only a child when I last saw her. Fortunately, as it turned out, because she wasn’t able to recognize me.”
“She has grown into a strong-spirited young woman and a good friend,” Magda said.
“I am glad you were well taken care of while I was gone.” Then José turned his attention back to Allison. “While I finish eating, perhaps Rebecca can tell me more about Isa’s encounter with Sadie Thompson.”
Allison told José about her afternoon with Joshua as they spied on Sadie, trying to find out why Sadie was blackmailing Don Carlos. She ended by telling him how she had tried to stop Isa, but Isa had disappeared into the forest.
“It was fortunate you prevented Isa from killing Sadie,” said Magda. “Imagine what your lives would be like if she had been a murderess...”
“Very fortunate,” José said somberly. Turning to Allison, he asked, “While Isa spoke to Sadie, did she give any indication of where she might go next?”
Allison felt embarrassed at what she had to confess. “Isa ... Isa hasn’t been well. She’s been obsessed with finding her baby—me, I guess—and about meeting you. We all thought ... I mean, no one knew ... we thought it was all in her head...”
José nodded sadly. “But now that you know, can you make any sense of what she said?”
“She just said she was going to meet you—” Allison gasped, remembering. “She was going to wait for you at your secret place. She said she’d go to the ends of the earth and wait for you.”
José’s eyes opened wide. He leaned forward and grabbed Allison’s hand, squeezing it none too gently. “Think carefully, child. Did she say she was
going to ‘the edge of the world’?”
“Well ... yes, but I thought it was a mixed metaphor”—the look of confusion in José’s eyes made her restate her sentence—“I mean I thought she got the phrase wrong. In English there’s an expression: going to the ends of the earth. It means—”
“Sí, sí, I know what it means,” he said, waving away her words. “I do not know how I could have forgotten. The edge of the world was our secret meeting place: al borde del mundo. She named it that because when you stand at the edge of the cliff, it feels as if you are standing at the edge of the world. That must be where she is. I must go to her.”
At the mention of the word cliff, Allison’s heart seemed to stop. The blood rushed from her face. “Cliff? What cliff? Magda, could it be—”
In a rush of Spanish, Magda asked her brother about the cliff. Then she turned to Allison. “It is the same cliff—the one you call Devil’s Drop.”
Allison felt the room spin. She leaned into the table, gripping the edge until her knuckles turned white.
“Rebecca?” said José. “What is wrong? Magda, help her. The child looks ill.”
“No,” said Allison, sitting back, “I’ll be all right. But you must hurry. The earthquake ... the cliff ... Isa ... you must get to her before dawn.”
“What is she talking about, Magda? What earthquake?”
“José, Becky has a premonition—a very strong one—that there will be an earthquake this morning, and that anyone near the cliff ... will be killed.”
José threw back his chair and in two steps was at the door. He turned to Magda. “I must go. Take care of my daughter.”
“No, wait!” cried Allison. “I have to go with you. I have a terrible feeling that that’s where Joshua is, too. Looking for me.”
Chapter 31
The sky was still dark when they arrived at the edge of the forest, above the road that snaked along the ravine. Allison was hot and sweaty and wished she could rip off the heavy skirts that weighed her down. José was wheezing badly.
A Circle of Time Page 18
