Whispers From the Grave (21 page)

“What year did you travel from?”

“2070.”

He whistled softly. “I did it!” His voice held awe. “I really did it. It must have taken years to perfect the visor, but it all began with
my
design.”

I tactfully did not point out what Rita had told me, that the invention was actually Dr. Crowell’s. I hoped Sky was familiar enough with the visor to help me go home if I wanted to.

“I’m shocked the scientists let you come here, Jenna. I’d think they’d be concerned a visit to the past would challenge the security of their existence. Your visit could have a damaging effect on history as they know it.”

“They didn’t want me to come,” I admitted, and the rest of the story came tumbling out. “Dr. Grady told me it was dangerous. I stole the visor and came here on my own.”

“That was a stupid thing to do,” Sky said, genuine annoyance sharpening his tone. “You don’t know what you got yourself into—”

“You don’t understand!” I interrupted. “I
had
to come. I had to stop my sister’s murder.”

He stared at me in shock as I described Rita’s violent death.

“She’s like a little sister to me,” he said hoarsely. “We’ve got to help her.”

Relief streamed through me as he patted my hand. It felt wonderful to confide in someone, to have someone helping me.

“We’ll find a way to keep Rita safe,” Sky assured me. “But you must not tell anyone where you came from. Knowledge of the future can be dangerous,” he warned. “You could hurt people by telling them too much.”

“I wish I could tell Rita and my family!”

“It wouldn’t be right,” said Sky. “It would change their whole way of thinking. If they didn’t like what the future held, they would take a different course in their lives that could have even worse repercussions. Not only would that hurt
them,
it would damage the people from your era. Jenna, you must keep in mind that everything you do has the potential to change the history of the people of 2070.”

“I know,” I said, sighing in frustration. “Dr. Grady told me the same thing.”

“He was right. If you want to return to find the world as you know it, you had better be cautious. Saving Rita, of course, will change things. She may have children and grandchildren who will all make their mark. If your Dr. Grady was here, he’d insist that you go home now without changing Rita’s destiny. But I will never forgive myself if that girl is harmed. We’ll find a way to save Rita,
without
telling her about time travel.”

“How can we stop Ben from hurting her?”

“For starters,
I
won’t buy him any more beer,” he said. “He should be kept away from alcohol. I’ll have a talk with him and encourage him to go to AA meetings. I’m not saying he won’t hurt Rita if he’s not drunk, but it could make a difference.”

Sky drove us home and distracted Rita while I ran up to the attic to get the visor. He had promised to examine it and advise me on the best way to use it—
if I
chose to go back to the future.

My loyalties were torn. Rita needed me. But thoughts of the mother who raised me had begun to surface as my anger toward her gradually wore thin. She was wrong to lie to me. Yet now I understood how a person could lie to someone she loved. I, after all, had lied to Rita.

I was only trying to protect my sister. Had Mom been trying to protect
me
?

Mom had been on my mind that morning when Rita asked, “Why do you look so sad?”

“I was thinking about my mom,” I’d told her. “She’s probably worried.”

“Does she know you’re here?”

“No.”

“You could call her.”

Of course I couldn’t.

Had time stood still since I’d left? How long had I been gone? The three days spent here, or only seconds?

I felt a sudden stab of regret. Why had I left on such bad terms? Mom must be going crazy with worry. Or was another Jenna still
there
in 2070? Was I living parallel lives?

It was all very confusing,

I pulled the trunk away from the corner and reached behind it. My fingers felt only the dusty wood of the attic floor. The visor was gone.

24

Who in the world could have taken the visor?

Whoever found it certainly wouldn’t have known what it was!

Frantically, I searched the attic, digging through old suitcases and knocking over boxes until Sky tooted his horn and I drifted back outside and numbly reported, “It’s gone.”

Sky stared at me, his words weighed with disbelief as he said, “You wouldn’t misplace something that important, Jenna.”

“What was it?” Rita asked.

“A visor,” I admitted, too upset to think up another lie. Without the visor, I no longer had the option of returning home.

Rita’s forehead crinkled in confusion. “A
visor?
Like the one at Twin-Star?”

Sky leapt in and covered for me. “It was an updated visor,” he said quickly. “I gave it to Jenna the other day so she could experiment. You guys are so much alike, I thought she might have PK skills too.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Rita asked, hurt.

“It was a surprise,” I said miserably. Losing the visor was bad enough without having to tell more lies. I hated deceiving my sister.

“It couldn’t have walked away on its own,” Sky said. “You’ve
got
to find it.”

I turned to Rita. “Ask Jim and our parents if they’ve seen it.”

Despite an intense search, the visor did not turn up.

If I couldn’t go home, could I stay with the Mills family? Would they accept me as a sister and daughter?

Perhaps I was
meant
to stay here. Without the visor, I did not have to choose between two centuries. I could stay forever and live out my life with my real family.

Though Sky had warned it was dangerous, I still longed to meet the rest of my family.

I watched our brother from Rita’s window seat as he and Chuck played croquet in the grassy backyard. Jimmy gingerly swung the croquet club, his head bowed in concentration. Caught in a shaft of sunlight, his curls gleamed like fire.

“Where did Jimmy get all that red hair?” I asked.

“Grandma Mills had red hair before it turned gray.”

Grandma Mills!
How lucky my sister was to have grandparents—to have blood relatives who knew and loved her. Would I get a chance to know them too?

“Jimmy and Grandma Mills both have fiery tempers,” Rita continued. “It must come with the red hair. Jimmy drives me up the wall. Sometimes he—”

“He
loves
you!” I interrupted. I pictured our brother, gray and frail from the years, eyes glistening with tears as he remembered his sister’s tragic death.

“He’d gag if he heard you say that,” said Rita. “The only thing Jimmy loves is his bike!”

“That’s not true.”

“How would
you
know?” she asked, amused. “You’ve never met him!”

“I wish I could! I wish I could meet our parents!”

Friday night my wish came true.

“We’re going to a party,” Rita informed me. I sat on her bed as she did my makeup, insisting, “No peeking until I’m done.”

“It seems like you’re putting an awful lot on,” I protested. “Usually I just wear a little eye makeup and lip color.”

“This is just foundation,” she said, rubbing her fingers over my face as her eyes danced with a secret. “It’s practically invisible.”

“Where’s the party?”

“It’s a surprise. Now close your mouth while I paint your lips.”

When she was done, she still wouldn’t let me near the mirror. “Come on!” she said and grabbed my hand, pulling me into the hallway and down the stairs.

“Rita, wait!” I said. “What if our parents see—”

“Surprise!” a chorus of voices rose from the bottom of the stairs. Dozens of people milled about, laughing up at us.

“Happy birthday, Jenna!” someone shouted, and I turned to see our mother, smiling at me—
looking right at me!

“Rita,” I hissed. “Does she
know
who I am?”

“All she knows is you’re a friend from school and this is your birthday,” said Rita, turning me to face the oval mirror on the hallway wall. My face was painted like a clown’s, my skin milk-white, my lips thick and red. Orange triangles decorated my cheeks. No one could possible recognize me.

“Pretend it’s your birthday,” Rita whispered. “I told them you loved costume parties. It’s the only way I could think for you to meet them.”

As we descended the steps, I realized everyone was in costume. Sky was clad in pirate’s garb, a red scarf on his head, a patch over one eye, and a plastic parrot fastened to his shoulder.

April was a flower child, with strings of beads draped around her neck and a daisy painted on one cheek.

Our parents were cowboys and Jimmy wore a Spider-man mask.

“Ben thinks costume parties are corny, so he’s not coming,” said Rita. “And I didn’t invite Shane because it might be awkward with April here, since she likes him too. Don’t tell her, but Shane and Ben are going to meet us in Seattle tomorrow and spend the day with us.”

Rita bounded upstairs to change into her gypsy costume while I mingled with our guests, greeting some of the kids from school as I snaked through the crowd toward my parents.

My mother ducked into the kitchen and I followed her on rubbery, legs. All the wind seemed to leave my lungs and my voice was barely audible as I said, “It”s nice of you to have the party here, Mrs. Mills.”

Smiling warmly, she took off her cowboy hat, and her shiny chestnut hair—so much like mine—spilled free. I caught my breath, searching her face for a sign of my own. It was odd seeing my nose planted square in the middle of unfamiliar features.

“Are you new in town, Jenna?”

“Yes, but my relatives have lived here a long time.”

“I hope you like lemon cake with white frosting,” she said, taking a square white bakery box from the refrigerator.

“Thank you!” I cried, overwhelmed by emotion.

“It’s nothing.”

“Can I see some of your pottery?” I asked.

Her eyes brightened with pride and she led me to a corner of the kitchen where a shelf held dozens of tall vases, squat mugs, and oblong ashtrays.

“Very nice,” I said, genuinely impressed—not so much by the pieces themselves but by the fact that
my
mother's hands had shaped them.

I could have stood forever in that spot, listening to her low, silky voice as she talked about her art. But someone yelled that Jimmy had knocked over the punch bowl and she rushed away to clean up the mess.

I gently stroked a vase. My fingertips fit into the grooves she’d pressed into the rim. Were my hands like hers? I’d forgotten to notice.

The mother who raised me did not have a creative bone in her body. Now I knew where my artistic streak came from.

“Where’s the cake?”

I turned to see my brother, his mask pushed off his face as he shoved potato chips into his mouth.

“I’ve been wanting to meet you,” I said.

“Oh, hi. Bye!”

“Wait!” I touched his arm and turned him toward me. His eleven-year-old skin was still baby soft and he smelled like freshly mowed grass. I gently stroked the curls as
he
had stroked my hair with his withered fingers on Deep Brine Island.

“You’re nuts!” he exclaimed and bolted from the room.

“What did you expect?” Rita asked, appearing in the doorway, clad in a flowing gypsy skirt, silver bracelets jingling on her slender arms.

“He’ll grow up nice,” I said. “And Mother is
wonderful
!”

“Not when you live with her. Don’t get me wrong. I love her, but she’s awfully wrapped up in herself.”

“She’s an
artist
!”
She’s so creative. I think it’s frazzin—um—I mean, far out.”

“It’s kind of cool,” Rita said. “But hardly anyone buys her pottery.”

My sister could not appreciate what she had, simply because she’d
always
had it. She did not understand how it felt to be the missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle. My family was a big, colorful flesh and blood puzzle with all of its parts intact—except for one forgotten piece.
Me!

I floated into the living room, studying my family’s faces. My father was standing in the dining room doorway, handing a glass of wine to a tubby neighbor man who had wandered over from across the street to join the party. Tall and lanky with a wide nose and kind blue eyes, my father looked like an interesting man, but he did not resemble me. Yet, as I watched,
my
smile curled on his face.

Thin lips. Slightly lopsided. Stretching easily into a wide grin.

My smile!
Out of place, yet so heart-wrenchingly familiar on his angular, masculine face.

What would he say if he knew I was his daughter?

“You folks were fortunate to get such a great house with a water view,” the neighbor told my father.

“We lucked out with a wise investment that allowed us to purchase it when we were first married,” he replied.

I stood at my father’s elbow, wishing he would turn around and notice me. But he was caught up in talk of real estate investments.

“Jenna,” my mother called. “There’s a boy at the door to see you.”

With a last wistful glance at the father who might never know me, I went to the door to find Shane. “Is that you?” he asked, laughing.

“Oh!” My fingers went to my face. I’d forgotten about my costume and felt myself blushing under my makeup.

“I heard it was your birthday and wanted to give you this.”

“It’s the shell we found on the beach!” I exclaimed in delight. The small swirling shell was now strung on a delicate gold chain.

“To remind you of the night we met,” Shane said quietly and slipped it over my head. I stared at him, speechless.

Suddenly embarrassed, he shrugged and said, “It’s no big deal. It’s just an old chain my sister used to wear.”

“It’s great,” I said. “Thank you!”

He declined my invitation to come in, explaining that Ben was waiting in the car. I peeked around Shane and saw Ben’s car, a chunky shadow sputtering noisily in the dark driveway. Ben was quietly sitting in the dark, watching our romantic scene in the lit doorway—probably with an evil smirk on his face!