As I Breathe (One Breath at a Time: Book 2) (44 page)

Then I threw the paper into the spa.

“Believe this!”

I gracefully lifted my packages, along with my dignity, and sashayed toward the door...Then I stopped and looked back toward the spa—it was suddenly empty, drained of the water and its magic, and so was my heart. Rain had made me feel deeply for him. In the catch of a moment, I fell in love. It was real. Now, I felt manipulated, yet—suddenly, I felt a pang at the loss of his note. What was I thinking, throwing it away?

I dropped my packages, turned on my heels and ran to the spa to retrieve it. I looked into the bath but didn’t see it at the bottom. It was gone, and just like Rain, there was no physical evidence that either had ever been in the room with me.

Oh wait! I thought.

I slipped my hand into my skirt pocket and pulled out the key.

−
38−

The Exited

Before I pushed through the main doors of the boutique, Pierre intercepted me.

“Mademoiselle, Mr. de’ Bluche ask me to walk you home and, of course, it would be my pleasure.”

“
No thanks, I’ll be fine. I could use the time alone.” I managed to smile, feeling a hint of embarrassment that even Pierre knew I’d been dumped. I was sure of that.

A tinge of shame bubbled up in my gut. I had behaved so precariously with Rain. My eyes dropped to the floor and slowly back up to Pierre.

“He wanted me to give you this.” Pierre’s eyes filled with a genuine sincerity. It was evident that he had felt sorry for me.

In his hand was the note Rain had written to me, it was no longer crumpled up but smooth and as good as new.

I hesitated to take it. “It’s okay...I don’t think I want it.” I could feel the fray pushing through my tear ducts. Why should I take it? I had thrown it away then tried to retrieve it from the spa, and it vanished into thin air. Now Rain wanted me to have it again. This was all too confusing for me.

“
Don’t try to understand everything in the moment that it takes place.”

“
Uh?” I blanched. Nodding my head, no, then in a millisecond his words absorbed within me, and I nodded, yes. My gestures must have sent him mixed messages since I suddenly appeared as if I understood what he meant. I think I did, but not completely. What he said wasn’t that complicated, but it was the inflection in his voice that made me second-guess my interpretation. “Yes, I understand,” I agreed, holding on to what he said and to give it further thought later.

“
And if you don’t, you will.” He smiled, and patted the side of my upper arm, consolingly. I knew there was something more to what he had meant, and this confirmed it.

“
Okay, thanks.” I turned slightly to retreat, feeling uneasy. Not because of anything he had said, it was actually in spite of myself. As for Pierre, strangely, I felt like I knew him well enough to cry on his massive shoulders and share my woes. He definitely had a fatherly air about him, but I chose to forgo the thought of crying in his arms.

“
Don’t forget this.” Again, he offered me the note from Rain.

I politely took it, flashed him a heartfelt smile and scurried out the door.

When I exited the boutique it was dark, the quaint alleyway was dimly lit by a few streetlamps but empty of life. Quite opposite of how it was when I had arrived earlier.

First things first, I needed a minute alone. I ducked into the nearest storefront alcove. The store was closed, so I took a private moment to have a little cry before proceeding home.

Most of the stores had been long closed. The sun had set hours ago. Distinctly, I heard a single pair of footsteps shuffling on the pavers behind me in the alley. I turned towards the sound. I could hear a pair of keys clinging. Out of one of the storefronts two females exited onto the street. They huddled near one another. They must have worked late, which was unusual in Paris. When the clock hits 5pm stores close on the dot. I could faintly hear the girls chatting and giggling.

They headed in the opposite direction from me. My instincts told me someone else was in the alley behind me. I wondered if it was Pierre keeping a watchful eye on me. I really didn’t mind him watching over me; he seemed like a good man.

I picked up my pace and headed toward the main road. As I turned the corner from the alley, stepping into the light, I felt a huge sense of relief. The music wafting from the local bars hit me first. The happy hour crowd was thick. It must have been some kind of huge street party. Everyone was dancing in circles, laughing and all were seemingly having a good ole’ time.

For a minute, I thought about parking my butt somewhere to have a stiff drink then quickly changed my mind. From the corner of my eye, in the reflection of the window, I thought I saw Jordan Ramsey. I would have sworn it was him. His blonde wavy hair stood out in a crowd, especially in Paris. When I turned around to get a better look, he dipped into the mass of people. Whoever he was appeared to be watching me then suddenly became preoccupied with the festivities and his friends. I realized I had been mistaken. Of course, I had. Last I’d heard Jordan was still serving out his long prison sentence. The man sure looked a lot like Jordan, but it was a ridiculous thought on my part.

I recalled having received a hate letter from Jordan, six months after he was incarcerated, blaming me for not sticking by him. What did he expect? We barely even knew each other when he was arrested. Then a year later, I received another letter from him, apologizing to the community and me. He promised to find me one day to apologize face to face. I never wrote him back. At the time, I just couldn’t trust him ever again, even if he was sorry.

Ouch, then it hit me, I barely knew Rain and had expected more from him as Jordan had me. Nothing like having to look in the mirror.

My teeth chattered from the bitter cold of the night, and from the eerie thought of Jordan ever tracking me down. Nonetheless, I slipped my hand into my purse and pulled out my mace.

I was startled from my fleeting thoughts by an old beggar man who brushed against me. For a second, he frightened the shit out of me. I almost released the canister of mace onto him.

“This might come in handy tonight,” he said and popped open a big red umbrella, and to my surprise handed it to me. Before I could say anything, he vanished into the crowd.

Stunned, I stood there with the biggest red umbrella I had ever seen, feeling extremely dry. Silly old man, what was he thinking?

Then, out of nowhere, it was as if the heavens opened up. A downpour of rain flooded the streets of Paris that night. The crowd scattered like mice. Me—all I could do was laugh out loud. I twirled my new umbrella and headed toward the brownstone.

Epilogue

I lifted my eyes and half smiled at my doctor. “So, does all this make it obvious to you...that I am who, I say I am? My life is pretty normal.” I tilted my head and grimaced. “Well, kind of normal. But at least, you now know I’m not impersonating anyone. That other woman that died must have stolen my identity,” I adamantly said. The doctor just sat there silently assessing me. I threw my hands in the air. “Please tell me that you believe me and that you don’t think I’m crazy,” I said, laughing it off. Perhaps I shouldn’t have addressed that subject.

“I’m glad you shared so much today...I’m sure it wasn’t easy,” Dr. Tagorski said dryly. “Your memories are interesting and seem to be returning nicely but there are a few things about them that concern me.”

“
I know the voices and well, Storm, I guess those are reasons to—”

The doctor interrupted me. “I’m not sure what kind of joke you’re trying to play on me, but I’m not buying it. Your entire story is hard to swallow.”

“What? Why?” Shock riddled through me. I couldn’t believe he was accusing me of lying. “I don’t understand why you are attacking me? And what I’m saying? There’s nothing that I’ve said that’s so unusual, except well, hearing voices, and uh, sure...talking to Storm was a little strange...but...” I said, inadvertently my voice fell to a whisper, and then I added. “But I don’t do that anymore.”

“
I’m not attacking you, Miss Eden. As for the voices and Storm they’re not my biggest concern right now, it’s the time that you’ve been referring to. What I kept saying to myself as you spoke was, this can’t be—you’re telling me you live in the 21
st
century.”

“
Yes,” I mumbled, feeling confused.

“
Either you’re the best storyteller I’ve ever met, or well, maybe you are delusional, and I don’t think that’s the case.” He laughed nonchalantly and stood up, shaking his head. “You had me going.”

“
What are you talking about?” I blurted out.

He continued, “I’m certain neither one is the case. Perhaps you’re having a breakdown or you’re suffering from some kind of psychosis. It’s apparent you are very unstable. I’m sorry, but I have no choice, and I need to make some drastic medical decisions in order to help you. You’re such a beautiful, smart young woman, but I can’t release you in this state of mind.”

“I don’t understand.” My vocal cords quivered.

“
Miss Eden, it’s 1946,” he simply said, and the impact of his words caused my brain to turn to mush. Notably, he had glanced at the clock on the wall.

“
Huh,” I mumbled, my mouth hung opened in disbelief. I fixed my eyes on the clock. Crap, it was army time. I counted quickly 1300 is 1:00pm the hands were in the place that indicated it was much later. Sometime past 7:00 pm. We had been talking for much longer than I had realized. I tried to calculate if the time was 19:40 something.

Just then the door swung open. It was Nurse Jane. She was the last person I wanted to see.

“Doctor, come quick. It’s Nurse Katharine. She’s fallen down the stairs.”

“
No!” Doctor Tagorski yelled. I felt a panicked energy swarm the room.

“
Oh my God,” I choked out, my heart pounded in fear that Jane had pushed her. Guilt cloaked over me, wishing that I had warned Katharine about Jane’s plan.

Doctor Tagorski’s face turn pallid, and then he flashed at me and darted out of the room.

I needed to get out of there. Quickly I made an assessment of everything. My brain sifted through the word exchange I had with the doctor and this newest revelation. Between my thoughts, I sincerely hoped Katharine was okay.

1946 kept replaying in my head. I couldn’t breathe properly, and my palms broke into a hot sweat. There was no explanation for Doctor Tagorski’s outlandish statement. 1946 flashed in my mind, again. Did I hear him correctly? Fuck that, the fuck I did!

Something told me Rain de’ Bluche was behind all this. That would explain why I’d seen him briefly the other day although no one else here had, which was disconcerting in itself to me. What was he up to?

Clutching my temples with my palms, I concentrated on the last time I’d seen him, besides in the doorway of the hospital room and in my dreams. Fuck, I couldn’t remember jack squat. I wondered if I had ever seen him again after we’d met. Surely I had. I hoped that was the case, this could only confirm why he showed up here. Had we started to date? Had I lost all those memories? Had he come here to rescue me, or was he behind an unorthodox plot to drive me crazy?

A vision of me running popped into my brain, it suddenly came back to me; the last memory before waking up here I was running from something or someone through the streets of Paris. My dreams lately were now a vivid memory. Finally, validation that the dreams were real. I recalled taking the subway where I had met a crazy, little lady named Mary. Then what? What the fuck happened to me after that?

1946 drummed on in my brain. I wanted to laugh out loud, hysterically. How else was I supposed to deal with such outrageous news! I’m not that credulous. It was unthinkable to even imagine it were possible. This had to be a joke. I was born in 1989...I wondered if the biggest, most elaborate practical joke of my life was being played out. It couldn’t be 1946! Could it be? I breathed in and out slowly…Doctor Tagorski had to be referring to the time. Jesus H. Christopher!

My eyes slowly traced over the room. The walls were bare, and the furniture was unusually small; there wasn’t a typical big leather chair for visitors to sit in that most hospitals have. I gripped the rails of my bed. Even it was as old as dirt, clean but old. It certainly wasn’t motorized like the one I had slept in when my tonsils were taken out at twelve years old. My fingers pulled at a loose thread in the sheets, I stared at the sheets, recognizing they were stiff, starched and dated too. Then, I remembered the sight of the telephone when I first woke up. It now registered in my mind that it looked like one tucked away in my grandmother’s attic. Just like it as a matter of fact...with the same symbols and French letters.

Oh my God, and the nurses’ outfits—they wore funny caps and perfect little white nursing gowns—dresses, (no one wore typical blue scrubs). Fuck, I hadn’t questioned any of these oddities earlier because I was in a foreign country and figured it was normal, besides I had other things on my mind.

1946, could it be possible that somehow I’d time traveled? No way, I told myself. Time traveling was not an option to buy into. But what if it were possible? I always known things without proof of evidence and believed in outcomes others would never fathom, but time travel? That was too farfetched for even me to believe.