A Circle of Time (10 page)

“Ah,” Magda said. She continued to watch Allison with an interested but untroubled gaze.

Joshua, on the other hand, was leaning forward on his elbows. His gray eyes were narrowed and serious.

“There's so much I have to tell you both ... so much I need you to believe. I don't know how...” Allison looked down at her hands.

Magda leaned forward. “Has the danger begun, Becky?”

Allison's head snapped up. “Yes! The danger is coming—it's soon. I don't have much time.”

“Whoa,” said Joshua, “what danger? What are you two talking about?”

“
Ten calma,
Joshua,” Magda replied softly. “Let Becky speak.”

“How can I stay calm when Becky's in danger?”

“Magda,” said Allison, ignoring Joshua's outburst, “take my hands. Maybe you can see something.”

Magda scooted her chair closer to Allison. She took the girl's hands in hers and closed her eyes. Soon she was swaying and moaning. Joshua knelt beside them, glancing back and forth from Allison to Magda.

Magda stopped swaying and began to straighten her body. Slowly, she opened her eyes and gazed not so much at Allison as through her, as though she weren't there. Her beautiful eyes seemed hollow, blind. Allison felt an iciness growing in the pit of her stomach. Magda's gaze traveled up, above Allison's head, then around her, following the outline of Becky's body.

“What do you see, Magda?” whispered Joshua.

Magda's gaze kept traveling around Becky's body. “Your spirit has an aura of danger ... of tragedy ... of sorrow and regret. This body has felt a past different from yours, but its future is also filled with danger and tragedy. This is not your body. You are
la otra
—the other.”

Allison exhaled, relieved Magda had once more been able to see the truth.

Joshua sank back on his heels, his face pale. “What are you saying?”

“I'm sorry, Joshua,” Allison began, “I'm not Becky Lee Thompson. My name is Allison Anne Blair. I'm fourteen years old, just as Becky was—is—but I was born in 1982., not 1892.”

Joshua looked from Allison to Magda, then back to Allison. “Is this some ugly April Fools' joke? Because if it is, it's not—”

“I'd never joke about something like this. And have you ever known Magda to be so cruel?”

Joshua glanced at Magda and shook his head. He had that look again of having eaten spoiled meat.

“I don't understand ... What you are saying is so...” He looked back at Allison; his eyes implored her. “You
look
just like Becky—same braids, same hands, same calico dress...”

Allison nodded. “This is Becky's body—”

“What?” Joshua cried, jumping away from her as though she were a monster.

“Please, please don't look at me like that. ”

“How do you expect me to look at you? You're telling me you're some spirit thing from the future, and you've possessed my Becky's body?”

Allison hung her head. This was going badly, very badly. It was painful enough to go through this once, but at least the last time, they'd had a chance to bond before she told him the truth. Now all he felt for her was disgust.

“If you're not Becky, where is she?” he yelled.

Allison steadied herself. “She's in the future, in 1996, in a hospital, keeping my body alive while I'm here.”

“Why? How?” Joshua turned to Magda. “Does Becky have your powers?”

“I do not think so,” she answered quietly.

Joshua grabbed Allison's shoulders and shook her. “Then it's your fault! What have you done to my Becky, you—you, fiend!”

“No, Joshua, please,” Allison cried. “Try to understand—”

“All I understand is that you're some kind of demon that's taken possession of my poor, innocent Becky. What did she ever do to you? Why would you want to hurt her? She'd never harm a fly.”

Allison pulled away, sobbing. “I didn't do this. It isn't my fault!”

Joshua grabbed her again. “If you've hurt Becky, I'll—I'll—”

“Shhhhh, Joshua,
cálmate, mijo.
” Magda eased Joshua away and offered him a chair. “
Siéntate
and listen to the girl. Let her explain.”

Joshua obeyed and plunked himself onto the chair, glaring at Allison in stony silence.

“Here—Allison, is it? Sit here and calm down.” Magda handed her a lace handkerchief.

Allison blew her nose. “It was her—she sent me here.”

“Becky went to the future and sent you back here in her place?” Joshua's tone was cold and sarcastic.

Allison nodded.

“How? It just don't make sense. Except for her spells, Becky's always seemed normal. How could she travel ninety years into the future?”

“She's dead,” Allison whispered so softly Joshua had to lean forward.

“What?”

“Becky's dead.”

Joshua stared at Allison, shaking his head. “No. She can't be. She's right here. I'm looking right at her.” Joshua reached out and took her hand. “See, flesh and blood and warm. You're just having a spell, Becky, that's all. And I scared you by yelling and grabbing at you.” Joshua knelt at Allison's feet. “I didn't mean to yell, Becky. I'm sorry. You gave me a fright, is all. Please come back, Becky, please come back!”

Joshua wrapped his arms around Allison's waist and held her tight, his head on her lap, sobbing.

Allison lifted a trembling hand and placed it tentatively on his soft curls. Tears slid down her cheeks. “Pm so sorry, Joshua, so sorry.”

Magda came over and knelt beside them, placing her arms around both. The three remained that way for what seemed like hours. The only sounds in the cottage were of the crackling fire and Joshua's soft sobs. Finally, Magda rose and took Joshua gently by the shoulders, helping him back onto his chair.

When Joshua's eyes met Allison's, they held a mixture of sorrow and resignation. She knew he was ready to listen.

 

Allison told Magda and Joshua about her accident and how Becky had helped her. She explained about her coma and the trips to the past and how Becky kept insisting it was Allison's turn to help her but never told her how or why. All the while, Joshua listened as though he were in a trance, staring at the floor and saying nothing. Magda listened without expression.

“On my last trip here, I discovered why she needs my help,” Allison told them.

Joshua shifted uneasily in his chair. “Why?” He asked the question as though he'd rather not hear the answer.

“To save her from...” Allison glanced at Magda. “The danger.”

Joshua finally came out of his trance. “What danger? Do you know? Have you seen it?”

Allison nodded. “I lived it,” she whispered. “I felt her dying.”

Joshua's face scrunched up. He covered his head with his arms and let out a deep, low moan like that of an injured animal. Allison couldn't stand to see him in such pain. She flew to his side and tried to wrap her arms around him. He stiffened and moved away. Then he bolted from the cottage and disappeared into the woods.

Allison stared at the open doorway. She felt hollow, as though someone had ripped out her insides.

“He hates me,” she said, sinking to the empty chair he'd left behind. It was still warm.

“Give him time, Allison,” Magda said softly. “He's not thinking about you right now. He's grieving for the girl he loves.”

Allison winced.
Of course be is. He doesn't even know me. The memories I have of us have never happened, and probably never will.

“Give him time,” Magda repeated.

“Time is the one thing I can't give him,” Allison said, still staring at the spot where Joshua had disappeared. “If he doesn't trust me soon, he, too, will die.”

Allison followed the forest path that led to the waterfall. Once she'd told Magda the rest of the story, Magda insisted she go after Joshua. The sun was low in the sky, and the forest was full of shadows. Birds twittered sleepily in their nests, getting ready for evening. Squirrels chattered and scolded as they scrambled from tree to tree.

Soon the forest noises were drowned by the thunderous crash of the waterfall. Allison spotted Joshua sitting on the flat boulder where he had been fishing the day she hiked up the creek. It seemed like years ago since they had splashed and laughed and played together, but in this new “reality” it had never happened.

Joshua had his head on his knees, arms wrapped around his legs. As she watched him silently, trying to decide how to approach him, he lifted his head. He gave her a questioning look, eyes full of hope.

“Becky?” he called.

She shook her head sadly. “Allison.”

His shoulders slumped. “Go away,” he said, putting his head back down.

Allison stepped to the squishy edge of the pool. “Joshua, please listen to me.”

Joshua stood. “Leave me alone.” He turned and jumped off the boulder.

Allison took another step forward. “Joshua, wait—Oh-hhhh!” Her bare foot slipped on the soft bank, sending her flopping into the water, arms and legs slapping wildly.

The long skirt of the calico dress twisted around her legs, making it hard to tread water, and the pool was too deep to feel the bottom. She fought to keep her head above water, sinking and bobbing and sputtering. As she sank once more, she felt a strong arm grip her around the neck and shoulders and drag her backward across the water.

Allison's first urge was to struggle. She felt foolish having to be saved from drowning in a still pool of water when she'd been a strong swimmer all her life. But the touch of Joshua's skin against hers felt so right, she didn't want him to let go. She went limp and allowed him to carry her to the other side and onto the shore.

He deposited her gently beside a small fire. “You all right, Becky?”

“Allison.”

He grimaced, then his face softened. “You all right, Allison?”

“Yes, I'm fine. Can't resist a lady in distress?”

“Nope,” he replied, adding wood to the fire, “never could.”

 

As their clothes dried by the fire, Allison leaned back against the boulder. Joshua kept busy poking at the fire, adding wood, gazing into the forest or at the fishing hole—anything, it seemed, to not have to look at her or talk to her.

Allison sighed, frustrated. “I'm not trying to harm Becky, Joshua. I'm trying to help her. Please trust me. She sent me here to help her ... and you. ”

Joshua turned. “Me? How are you supposed to help me?”

Allison looked down, unable to meet his eyes.

“Allison? Does something happen to me, too? Am I in danger?”

Joshua knelt beside her and lifted Allison's chin. Her eyes brimmed with tears. She turned away.

“All right,” he said, sitting beside her. “Tell me the whole story. I'm ready now.”

“Unfortunately, I'm not sure I am.”

Joshua turned her to look at him. “I know I haven't made it easy for you, but you have to understand how I feel. This is the craziest thing I ever heard of. It's—it's unbelievable.”

“Don't you think I know that? One minute I'm a normal fourteen-year-old riding her bike up a mountain road. Next thing I know, my mother's crying her heart out beside me, and I can't move my hand to touch her, or turn my head to see her, or even open my eyes...”

Allison sniffed, wiping her tears and her nose with the back of her hand.

Joshua gave a resigned sigh and placed an arm around her shoulders, drawing her close. She leaned her cheek against his bare chest, breathing in the smell of pine and smoke on his skin, and closed her eyes.

“Joshua?”

“Ummmm?”

“Do you think people have the power to change their destinies?”

“I don't know—I sure hope so. My destiny is probably to be a handyman, working at the estate, or a laborer in the vineyards. But I've got dreams, big dreams.”

“What dreams?” She opened her eyes. “Tell me.”

“I want to be a healer; I want to help people who are hurting.”

Allison sat up. “A doctor?”

Joshua grinned. “Silly, huh? A poor boy like me.”

“Oh, no, it's not silly at all. You'd make a wonderful doctor. You're smart and caring. You already know how to read and write.”

“How do you know so much about me?”

“The last time, when I was with you...”

“Oh.” Joshua's smile faded. “Well, it's foolish talk, anyway. Reading and writing and being smart ain't gonna pay my way to college.”

“It can help. You can study hard and save your money and get a scholarship. You've got to try. You've got to!”

Joshua stared at Allison, a tiny smile beginning to tickle the edges of his mouth.

“What?” she said. “Why're you looking at me like that?”

“The fire's back—in your eyes.”

“Don't make fun of me, Joshua. I mean it. You can't give up on a dream!”

“You've got so much”—Joshua paused, searching for the right word—“feelings.”

Allison nodded. “It's just that when I care about something ... or somebody...” She shrugged self-consciously, afraid she'd said too much.

“Maybe that's it.” Joshua's eyes continued to study her face. “I've never told anybody about my dreams—not even Becky. But something about you ... You really are a different person. The way you talk, the way you hold your head, the sparkle in your eyes. You're a fighter.” He sighed, and his face clouded over. “Poor Becky, she's never been a fighter.”

Allison thought about that. It suddenly occurred to her that although Becky had not been a fighter during life, she made a pretty scrappy ghost.

“You're wrong, Joshua. That's what you said the last time, and I believed you. Now I know different. Becky
is
a fighter. She just never lived long enough to realize her own strength. But her spirit won't die. She's waited ninety years to set things right, and I don't think she'll give up till she does.”