Shes Me

She’s Me Mimi Barbour

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental. “She’s Me” Vicarage Bench Series – Book #1 No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. This book was produced using Pressbooks.com.

Contents She’s Me Dedication Praise Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Afterword He’s Her Prologue - Book #2 The Vicarage Bench Series Also author of… About the author, Mimi Barbour Contact Me:

She’s Me

She’s Me Vicarage Bench Series – Book #1 By Mimi Barbour, NYT & USA Today best-selling author Sassy, spoilt model, Jenna McBride pricks her finger simultaneously with shy, chubby librarian Lucy McGillicuddy and becomes Lucy’s spiritual resident. In her smart-alecky way, Jenna forces Lucy to make changes to her eating habits and exercise routines, and she soon grows into a slim, beautiful woman. But in order to win the heart of the local doctor, Lucy has to build up her self-confidence—something that Jenna has never lacked. In fact, Jenna is rather full of herself and needs Lucy to teach her that outward beauty affects only the eyes of

the person looking, not the heart. Once she’s learned her lesson, all that’s left to do is get Jenna back to her own time and to the waiting arms of her handsome business manager.

Dedication I dedicate this book to my mother, whose love of reading taught me the magic in a good story, and to my father, who by example taught me that no mountain is too high.

Praise “A cross between Sleeping Beauty and a girlie version of Back to the Future….a story full of surprising twists resulting in happily-ever-afters.” ~Lisa, Night Owl Romance Book Reviews “A funny, endearing story of how four people struggle to co-exist in two bodies….The characters are believable and while you are laughing over their mishaps you are falling in love with [them]. This is a great read.” ~Whitney, Simply Romance Reviews “I loved these three stories. What a brilliant idea to have bodies intertwined. It’s so different from the usual time travel.” ~Anita Birt, author of A Very Difficult Man “Wonderful array of characters…and…wonderful changes and growth. Dialogue is snappy and… humorous. (“Hell’s bells, now I can’t even cry without getting hassled….”) The…relationships that drive this story are hysterical.” ~Snapdragon, The Long and the Short of It

Chapter One The large, oval mirror reflected what the top magazine photographers captured in every front-page sensation featuring Jenna McBride. Beauty might be skin deep as told to plain, hopeful little girls, but Jenna had never heard those words. All her life there had been comments about her “natural chestnut glory” or her “intense blue eyes with diamond-like highlights.” Even her figure, slender and tall, was unproblematic, as her system tended to wear off whatever she chose to eat, although since she chose the healthiest of foods she glowed with fitness. As Jenna sauntered past the mirror she slowed to check herself out, as she was apt to do when passing any reflecting surface, and she spied her secretary’s grinning image behind her. “Marnie, wipe it.” The grin disappeared, but Marnie’s eyes remained full of merriment. “Has Harvey called?” Harvey was the favoured man of the month, taller than Jenna, with eyes of a similar cobalt tone, hair silvered with distinguishing highlights, and more money than many banks. Marnie’s answer was tinged with disdain, which was not lost on Jenna. “Yes, he’ll be there to pick you up at the airport tomorrow evening. His exact words were, ‘Tell her to doll up, because I want to show her off to some college buddies who’ll be joining us for a late dinner.

They don’t believe me when I tell them she’s a female version of myself—eye candy.’” Jenna’s laugh was fake and forced as she stepped outside the famous vicarage where her last shoot had taken place three days ago. She was burnt out from the many assignments she’d crammed in over the past few months. It seemed as though every manufacturer in the world wanted to have her face represent their products. Enough was enough. She needed to veg and catch her breath. The quaint vicarage was over a hundred years old, filled with relics from the past and a peaceful ambience in which a person could unwind. The verdant colours of the vines clinging in masses to the exterior framed the stained-glass windows, while pink roses twining in and out here and there added delight for the viewer. The foliage explosion nearby covered a crumbling stone wall that enclosed a large garden filled with hybrid roses, all blooming, permeating the air with their fragrance. On the other side of the wall was a surprisingly busy lane where the folks of the small town frequently walked or drove by, following their daily routines. Her normal choice of a holiday hotel it wasn’t, but for some unknown reason Jenna had fallen in love with the atmosphere of tranquility on sight and, reluctant to leave it, had rented the nest for a few extra days for herself and her secretary to relax after the shoot. It was essential for Marnie to stay there with her, not just for reasons of answering the telephone and other business matters, but because Marnie had worked almost as hard as Jenna these last few months and deserved a break. Keeping up with the daily correspondence, being at Jenna’s beck and call and catering to her every whim still left Marnie a bit of time left over to spend as she pleased.

Jenna was heading to her special place, a wooden bench near the roadway where she could people-watch, one of her favourite pastimes. She liked to breathe in the scent from the pink roses that trailed over the trellis behind the bench and gave a fresh contrast to the natural greyness of the oak. Today the scene was framed by a sky bluer than normal. She meandered along toward the empty bench, Marnie close behind her. As she stopped to smell a particularly gorgeous rose, a thorn bit into the fleshy part of her finger and she squealed with pain. A strangeness settled over her as she sat to pull out the spine. As soon as her body touched the bench, a trancelike state began to take hold. Her mind felt numb, and later she would swear that her body floated away from her and disappeared in small drifts, like a cloud shifting. Finally, she broke loose from these imaginings and turned to talk to Marnie, who was nowhere to be seen. She shook her head and reached up to rub her forehead, but when she touched herself she knew something was dreadfully wrong. It was as though she were having an out-of-body experience. Everything around her had altered. She closed her eyes and slumped further down on the bench. She twisted herself agitatedly, opened her eyes again and looked in every direction. It was then she realized that the road looked oddly different from the one she remembered. She swivelled every which way, still seated because she felt weakened somehow, too weak to stand. And then she spied her dress and screamed. When she’d walked outside, she was wearing white jean capris and a navyand-white designer top, with a rhinestone-decorated white jean jacket to set off the ensemble.

Now, clutched in her shaking hands, her garb seemed to be a full-skirted, polka-dotted garment that hung down well past her knees, along with—what scared her silly— white gloves over her decidedly plump hands.

Chapter Two “What the hell is going on?” she cried, and then, glancing up, her frantic gaze met the startled eyes of two ladies dressed for church in their flowered Sunday dresses and matching hats, their white-gloved hands carrying what looked like Bibles. They stared at her over the flower-covered stone wall, obviously wondering if they should call for a straight jacket. Across the lane a couple of teenage girls in miniskirts were gawking at her, too, eyes emphasized by lots of dark makeup, white-lipsticked mouths in O shapes. They looked like something out of an old movie. Just passing the gate was a slender man, a bit on the short side, well proportioned but of nondescript looks. He turned in quickly and came rushing to the garden bench, where he knelt in front of her. “Are you in trouble?” he asked, greenish-grey eyes full of kindness. His straight-cut beige pants and Perry Como sweater looked strangely old-fashioned, and so did his short, side-parted, brown hair. Jenna’s whole body trembled, shuddering so severely her purse fell from her hands and emptied onto the grass. Distressed, she moaned and covered her shocked eyes. She’d never seen that bag before. Quickly and efficiently, the stranger gathered her belongings and waited patiently for her to calm herself. In an apparent effort to help, he began to talk. “My name is John Norman, and I’m the doctor here in town. I have a practise in my house, which is right down

the lane if you have need of medical assistance.” He kindly pried her hands from her face and manoeuvred the motion in such a way as to give him access to her wrist so he could check her pulse. “Take a deep breath, my dear, and calm down.” Jenna looked up, fear swelling within her. “What is wrong with me? I feel so different. You’ll think me crazy, but this dress I’m wearing—I’ve never seen it before in my life, or these ridiculous gloves.” Voice rising, she stared into his wary eyes and notched the shock up one more level. “And these hands aren’t mine.” She started to cry in great, gulping, pitiful sobs that grew shockingly louder when she heard herself. These noisy gasps—loud, brash and disgustingly honest—were nothing like her normal crocodile tears. “Where do you live?” “Here in the vicarage. I’ve rented it with my secretary for a few days.” “Oh, is that so? Well, I’m surprised the Bowens would rent out their home, but I guess they were planning to be in London for at least a month. I don’t know them well, after all. I only recently moved here to open my practise. Why don’t you come in with me,” coaxed John, “and we’ll go and get you a nice cuppa. You’ll soon calm yourself. By the way, what is your name?” Jenna was more than ready to get away from the growing crowd of nosy onlookers gathering in hope of some excitement. “Jenna McBride. I’m a freelance model. You’ve probably seen some of my work in Vogue or Chatelaine magazine. In fact, I’ve been on so many front covers, I’ve forgotten them all.” John nodded, eyes partially closed as he listened. He helped her to her feet, whereupon she realized he was looking down at her. This brought on another bout of

tears because not many men were taller than she was, when she was dressed in killer heels like the ones she’d put on just that morning. It wasn’t until she stumbled that she noticed her rhinestone-studded, three-inch wedgies had been replaced by plain white pumps. They were decorated with hateful tiny bows perched at the junction where her toes were obviously scrunched together, forced into shoes too small. Tears fell faster, and she was on the verge of fainting as John guided her to the entrance of the old house while supporting most of her weight, not an easy accomplishment. The unlocked door added validity to her story, and his relief was palpable. The room they entered felt familiar to some extent. The old damask draperies embracing the windows allowed insufficient light, but nonetheless she was able to peer all around. She let out a shriek when she spotted the oval mirror. It was like an old friend, and Jenna ran to look, gladness in her heart. She passed out cold, going down like a large, felled tree, and only John’s instinctive awareness and quick action saved her from a frightful fall. He gathered her bulk into his arms and half steered, half carried her to one of the two golden wingback armchairs by the fireplace. He sat her down, whereupon she slid and flopped to one side, legs wantonly spread but covered by her rather long, bulky, polka-dotted skirt. Her small feathered hat slid down over one eyebrow, and her cheeks spread like jowls over her chest, similar to a young baby’s before the neck is fully formed. Opening her bag, he searched through her belongings for a phone number or address, and his features, thoughtful at first, became concerned and

finally puzzled as he held her driver’s permit, dated 1960. He made his way into the sparse kitchen and found all the makings for tea, then searched for a cloth and some cold water. It took several minutes of bathing her face and calling to her before Jenna came around and opened her big, brown eyes. “What is your name?” He questioned her slowly. “I don’t know,” whispered a voice filled with fearful trepidation. “When I looked into the mirror, it wasn’t me looking back. I’ve changed.” “You’ve changed?” He used the same calmness and gentleness in his tones that reassured his most troublesome patients. “How have you changed?” “My name is Jenna McBride. I was in this same room only a few minutes ago with my secretary, Marnie Yung. I was dressed in totally different clothes, and I was so— soooo—beautiful.” Her screeching wail had him swiftly patting her hand and shushing her in a patently worried manner. “It says here in your handbag that your name is Lucy McGillicuddy and that you live a few blocks away on Wilson Street. You have an employment card from the library that names you as the assistant to the head librarian.” “That’s bullshit!” “Excuse me?” “It’s crap, nonsense. I’m a model and was here on assignment with a major makeup manufacturer. I took the last few days as holidays. I’m an American. My home is in Seattle. I’m twenty-five years old. And I’m beautiful. Not like that fat blob I saw in the mirror.” The staccato sentences drilled into him as he sat with his mouth ajar and his eyes bugging out. Jenna jumped to her feet and

flew back to check her reflection in the mirror, still disbelieving. “Dammit, what is going on?” “Do come and sit down, please. You’re wearing me out,” he said, remonstrating, but soothingly. “Your picture is on your library card, and it looks accurately like yourself. You are Lucy McGillicuddy.” “No, I’m not! This person isn’t me,” she yelled, stabbing her fingers into her overabundant chest. From what she had seen in the mirror, she was a short, frizzyhaired, blotchy-skinned fatty in a ridiculously outdated dress and nasty makeup. “I want to be me again!” she wailed, and the tears collected in her eyes until they all but obliterated the brown before they overloaded and streamed out like waterfalls. Suddenly, she straightened and the waterworks stopped. “I’ve got it.” She snapped her fingers—or tried to but the gloves impeded the action. “My bedroom. My things must still be in there.” She stormed out and he trailed behind her. In a few moments they returned to the parlour. Once again Jenna couldn’t explain. Nothing belonged to her in the bedroom, not one item. In fact, she hadn’t recognized the room’s furnishings at all. John began to feel distinctly uncomfortable. “I think we’d better leave here. I don’t believe we belong. Let’s get you home and see if something in your personal surroundings could be the key to getting your memory back.” Hours later, after a quickly-thrown-together meal made by John, two cups of tea made by John, and numerous crying bouts made by Jenna, who hated tea and unsurprisingly preferred specialty coffees, they weren’t any closer to figuring out what had happened.

He had taken her to a small house that was oldfashioned in the extreme and most likely had belonged to Lucy’s parents or even grandparents at one time, since Lucy was a young person and the furnishings were the sort elderly people would have found comfortable. The place was downright sad, with a lonely feel to it. The one well-used armchair was dressed in starched doilies, with a plastic-shaded floor lamp aimed for the sitter and a footstool posed close by. The sofa and other chairs were pushed well back. The floor-model television was one Jenna recognized as similar to what she’d seen in her parents’ old photo albums from before she was born. Piled high on the end table by the armchair were numerous romance pocketbooks. Please, Please Me, the first record album produced by the Beatles, was leaning against a record player. John asked for the umpteenth time, “You sat on the bench and felt faint?” “Yes. At the time, my secretary, Marnie, was telling me that my boyfriend Harvey was going to meet me at the airport and take me out for dinner when I arrived stateside.” She sighed loudly. “She was saying he’d told her that he wanted me to look extra nice so he could show me off to some friends we were to have dinner with.” Distaste settled clearly over John’s features, and Jenna found this offensive. “He’s a looker, and rich. And he likes being with beautiful women. I was very beautiful.” “You’re still beautiful.” John stated in a gentlemanly manner, jollying her along. “I’m huge, and I look like a Cabbage Patch doll.” “What is a Cabbage Patch doll?” Something clicked for Jenna. Her memory zoomed

back to the strangely dressed people and the old vehicles she’d witnessed after her spell, all of which she had put down vaguely to the fact that she was in a small township in England where everything was slightly oldtime compared to Seattle. She grabbed John’s arm and demanded, “What is the date today?” “Today? It’s August 7th, 1963.”

Chapter Three She swooned. She gasped. Then she threw up in a vase from which John had ripped the flowers in a timely fashion. “There, there. You’ll be fine. Keep your head down.” He gave her a damp cloth to bathe her face. “You don’t understand. I woke up this morning on August 7th, 2006.” “Where is your wallet?” He spread all her documents over the stick-legged coffee table, and they perused them together. Her birth date on one document revealed her to be twenty-five as of three weeks ago, July 17th, 1963. “It’s the same date as my birthday, except for the year. At least I didn’t change to a man or become old,” she said showing a bit of humour for the first time. “Write your name and this address. I want to see if your handwriting is the same.” “How do you spell McGillicuddy?” “You are joking, right?” “How should I know how to spell her name?” “Whose name?” “Lucy’s name, of course. Isn’t that who we’re talking about?” He looked at her piercingly. Her features were perplexed, even sad, but without an ounce of guilt or duplicity. John said thoughtfully. “I have a friend, Robert

Andrews, who might be able to help sort this problem out. He’s a psychologist. I know it’s a relatively new form of medicine, but I can assure you that it’s an acceptable practise and helpful to many patients.” “A shrink? Sure, yes—it’s a good idea. Maybe he can hypnotize me, or give me some kind of fancy drugs so I can get my life back.” “Right. Well, that’s fine, then.” He was openly shocked by her easy acceptance of his suggestion. “You rest tonight. I’ll notify the library so they will be aware that you are under medical care for a short time, and I will be here to introduce you to Dr. Andrews in the morning.” “He’ll come here? A house call?” “Yes, I’m sure he’ll be able to fit you in.” The truth was that to the ordinary working person in 1963 psychiatry was an unknown practise, and many people referred to Dr. Andrews and his form of medicine as quackery. A new patient would be a roundabout relief to the scholarly fellow whose nose was, more often than not, happily buried in some large tome. His practise was seldom busy. After John left, Jenna was restless and turned to the television, expecting to see normal programming, though she knew the late-night shows from New York City wouldn’t be on here in England. She was disappointed with a buzzing black-and-white test pattern, proving that it was late in the evening and the networks were finished for the day. Oh, God, I’m in hell. She slowly made her way to the fussily-decorated main bedroom, where pink reigned supreme, including the rose-colored chenille bedspread detailed with tiny rosebuds and the white lacy dresser skirt and chair skirt intertwined with pink flowers and ribbons. In the wooden wardrobe she found a voluptuous

granny nightgown that, sadly, fit her bloated body, and in the bathroom she giggled uncontrollably when she spied the bag of curlers and the silk cover that was apparently supposed to be worn to keep them in place. “I don’t wish to intrude, but what’s so blasted funny?” Jenna looked around suspiciously, wondering where those words came from. Am I hearing voices now? She refused to look in the mirror. With disgust, she threw away the cheap facial products she found in the drawers, and so it was with some difficulty that she followed a portion of her nightly ritual. Her old routine took her anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour, depending on what her schedule looked like for the next day. She was highly paid and took her responsibilities seriously. Her looks were her bread and butter, and she was brutal in keeping to her regime. Tonight, she coped as well as she could with what she found acceptable and then crawled onto the misshapen mattress and let the copious tears flood. “I don’t know why you’re crying, for heaven’s sake. It’s my life you’ve taken over, my body you hate, my things you’re laughing at and my bloody bed you’re sleeping in.” “What? Hello?” Now I’m talking to myself, or thinking to myself, or—whatever. More tears flowed. “You’re thinking, well, talking to me. It’s Lucy.” “How can I talk to you when I’m you? Or, no, you’re me. Aw, shit! When we’re the same.” “I wish! You’re beautiful, and I’m plain and fat. Stop crying! My eyes swell terribly when I cry, and they can stay that way for hours.” “Hell’s bells, now I can’t even cry without getting hassled. Go away.” “No, I won’t. It’s taken me this long to come through. All the time you were talking to that handsome John

Norman, I was so tongue-tied I was sick to my stomach.” “I noticed. We barfed all over his hands and feet.” “Sorry. When my nerves are upset I have the tendency to get sick.” “And faint.” “It’s a family curse.” “So’s overeating.” “Only when I’m nervous. I get nervous a lot.” “Figures. Your body weighs a ton, and I’d lay money on it that your feet swell up from the blasted steel girdle you had on. Your legs look hideous. It’s no wonder you wear those goofy long, full-skirted dresses.” Tears gushed out, followed by hiccups. “Stop it. You even cry badly.” “Well, then, stop being so mean to me. You’re hurting my feelings.” “Look, what happened at the vicarage? Why am I together with you in your body? What did you do?” “I don’t know. I was on my way home from church, and I’d stopped to sit on my favourite bench in front of the vicarage when I saw John Norman coming. I got scared and hid behind the trellis with the roses, the one directly behind the bench. I remember I pricked my finger on a rose thorn and felt giddy, so I sat back down, and then there you were. Taking over, I might add.” “If I had my way, you’d have you back all to yourself, and I’d be me again, so don’t blame me. I was just sitting there on the same bench, but for me the date was 2006.” “I saw you for a few seconds during the transformation. You looked like a movie star, with beautiful reddish hair, and you were tall and skinny.” “My hair is chestnut, not reddish, and I’m slender, not skinny. I have to be thin. I’m a model.” “Ohhh, you lucky ducky. I wish I was—thin, that is. But

maybe it’s better I’m not, or we both might not fit.” “Don’t be so dumb. I’m not all here. Just my mind, or my brain and my soul, I guess. Aw, hell, I don’t know what all travelled over with me.” “Well, your mind has a big, mean mouth. You hurt my feelings, laughing and sneering at me earlier.” “I’ll be doing more than that, girlfriend. Get used to the idea of a few changes. I’m giving you fair warning—we’ll be following my routine from now on, until I’m outta here.” “Crikey! That’s not fair.” “Tough. Seems I’m stronger than you, so get used to it. Now shush and go to sleep. We need our beauty rest or we’ll look like hell in the morning.” “You won’t be gone when I wake up, will you?” “I guess not.” A feeling of well-being settled over the pair and sleep followed.

Chapter Four “This better be good,” croaked Jake. His voice reflected the vicious flu that had attacked his body just a few days before. “It’s Marnie here, Jake. There’s something dreadfully wrong with Jenna.” Sobs were apparent in her voice. “What is it? What the hell are you talking about?” “Jake, she’s slipped into a coma. The doctors are stumped. They can’t find any reasons for her being unconscious.” “What do you mean, she’s unconscious? Was she in an accident? Is she sick?” His voice roared through the transatlantic wires so clearly one would think he was in the next room. Bringing the phone back to her ear, Marnie wailed, panic resonating in her voice, “I don’t know what happened. One minute she was sitting on the bench at the front of our rental place, the old vicarage, and by the time I’d joined her, she was slumped over and gone…” “Gone?” He cut her off. His bossy, managing forcefulness steadied her as nothing else could have. She sniffed, gulped and cleared her voice. “Marnie, for God’s sake.” “I don’t know, Jake. I tried to wake her up, and I couldn’t. They’ve taken her to the nearest hospital and have started to run the whole gamut of tests. The doctors mentioned possibilities of infection, or diabetes, stroke— even a brain tumour. I’ve answered so many questions I

don’t know if I’m coming or going. It’s all happening so fast.” “When did this phenomenon take place?” “Yesterday.” “And you didn’t call me till now?” “I knew you were sick, Jake, and I thought she’d snap out of it. I’m scared, Jake. There’s no response to stimuli at all. She’s comatose.” He heard her snivelling again, and it frightened the hell out of him. Marnie was not a sniveller. She was the most calm, down-to-earth person he had ever encountered. She had to be, to put up with the nutcase she worked for. But then, he put up with the same nutcase and wouldn’t have it any other way. He lived for the time he spent with Jenna, even if she did drive him batty with all her demands. “I’ll be on the next plane. I’ll call you with my arrival time. And Marnie, don’t worry so. We’ll take care of our girl.” “Don’t we always?” Marnie breathed a huge sigh of relief. “I’m so glad you’re coming—I never doubted it.” The next day a dishevelled, tired and cranky Jake stepped out of his rental car. Marnie hugged him in relief and commiserated with him on his tedious journey. She had continued the lease on the vicarage for the next few weeks as a place for them both to stay to be close to Jenna. She helped him in with his bag and plugged in the kettle. Most people on their first sight of the picturesque place stopped in awe to soak in the scene. He barged straight in without slowing down at all. “Any change?” “Nothing new since your last call, two hours ago, and the one an hour before that, and…” He interrupted rudely. “Shut up! I’m worried. I want to see her.”

“You’ve had a long trip. Have some coffee first.” “No! Now.” “You’re dead on your feet, and she’s not going anywhere. Maybe you should grab a nap first?” His glare could freeze rocks. She gave up. “Fine. I’ll drive.” She unplugged the kettle. In the car Jake rapped questions at her, the same ones she’d answered already. “I don’t know the answers. Ask the doctors when we get there. They can tell you much more than I can. All I know is, she seems peaceful enough. I’ve sat with her since it happened, and she hasn’t moved at all. The nurses have taken care of her like a baby. They’re very good with her.” She rattled on. He barely kept himself under control, he was that anxious to see Jenna. As if the residents of the borough sensed their need to get to the hospital without delay, traffic was slight and they arrived in no time at all. The doctors were notified upon their arrival. Jake spent the time waiting for them by devouring the sleeping princess with his hungry gaze. He even kissed her lips, something he would never dream of doing if she were awake. He sat by her side, her small hand cozy in his while he meditated. Marnie, stunned by his affectionate demeanour, left the room to give him privacy. Finally the medical team arrived and brought him up to date with their test results and treatment choices, all of which added up to very little. Earlier, as he waited to be called for his transatlantic flight, he’d hooked up his laptop in the first-class lounge and researched all the information available on implausible comas. He’d learned very little, other than that it was a state of prolonged unconsciousness in which the brain functions at its lowest level of alertness. Up to now all the tests they’d taken had proved

inconclusive. They didn’t seem to know why Jenna was in this state. The only definite knowledge was that it would be necessary to maintain her respiration and circulation. He dropped her hand and cupped his cheeks in his shaking palms, masking the wetness tracking his face. His slumped shoulders said it all. His heartbreak was obvious.

Chapter Five Early next morning Jenna was up and forcing her new body into old practises. “Ow! Stop that.” “You are so out of shape, I can’t believe it.” “Enough sit-ups! My heart is pounding so hard it’ll definitely stroke, my back aches—undoubtedly traction will be my only option—and my legs can’t handle so much running. I’ll surely get attacked with varicose veins.” “You’re nuts. Stop griping. And by the way—we’re walking fast, not running, and it’s good for you. Exercise keeps the blood flowing, builds muscle and inflates energy, and that alone prevents problems. Your skin will benefit, not to mention your heart and lungs. Right now you’re breathing like a stuffed…” “Don’t you say it. Don’t you dare.” “Okay! Don’t spaz!” “I’m hungry. Let’s eat now.” “Right! One egg, a slice of twelve-grain bread and a small apple.” This was typical of Jenna’s usual diet. “Never heard of twelve-grain bread. One egg isn’t enough. I usually have three, with bacon rashers, steamed tomatoes, toast and jam—oh, yes, and a bowl of oatmeal. And of course two cups of tea.” Sarcasm dripping, Jenna said, “no wonder our arse is as big as an elephant’s. News flash! Lifestyle changes, missy, starting right now. We eat healthy as of this moment.” And arguing all the while with her physical

landlady about calories, metabolic rates, nutrition and energy, she strenuously suppressed Lucy’s habit of wolfing down every morsel on her plate. After breakfast, Jenna convinced Lucy, under duress, to change her clothes numerous times, until Jenna was as satisfied as possible with her appearance. The baggy dresses were uncomplimentary to her body shape. The white sheer ruffled blouse, Lucy’s favourite wardrobe item, looked like hell with the yellowed camisole. Her skirts were too long, shoes the wrong colour, everything was ugly—nothing pleased the fashion-conscious Jenna. Lucy was past caring. Then, hidden in the back of Lucy’s closet, tailored slacks were unearthed, and Jenna glommed onto them. “Now we’re cooking. These are what I’m talking about. Now for a top to go with them. Do you have anything a bit longer and not too fitted?” Jenna scrambled through the piles of clothing she’d flung all over the room, until her eyes caught sight of a lovely blue cashmere sweater she’d passed over earlier. Preening in front of the mirror, a pastime never enjoyed by Lucy, Jenna gave a last pat to the unruly curls and decided she’d done all she could with what she had. “Are you happy, now that I’m exhausted and we still have the tea tray to prepare?” “Happy? No! But it’s the best I can do.” Not surprisingly, they weren’t quite ready when John appeared with the shrink in tow, Dr. Andrews. Lucy slipped away as soon as John showed up, and Jenna, feeling startlingly empty and alone without Lucy’s presence, nevertheless took an instant liking to the English version of Dr. Phil. His questions were blunt and inspired her to be completely open, giving him a more

frank window into the shallowness of her life than she realized. Dr. Andrews was a bit crusty, one of those men who seem to be born old. His conservative clothes and mannerisms were those of a person well read and well educated. There was an old-world gallantry about him that Jenna brought to the fore. To Dr. Andrews, Jenna was baffling, a complex creature he studied and questioned. Was she suffering a true out-of-body experience, or was her mind somehow broken? And what of Lucy? From all accounts, Lucy McGillicuddy had lived an exemplary life up till now. She was quiet and well thought of by her neighbours and the people at work, nothing at all like the person who was now in control of her body. They met day after day and he listened to Jenna babble on about how successful she was and the money she drew. She went on about her modeling career and the number of gigs she’d ruthlessly stolen from “lesserknown wannabes,” as she termed them. His normally direct eye contact glazed over when she tried to introduce him to Lucy, who remained stubbornly silent. At first he wanted to believe her about two beings in one body, but it was finally becoming clear to him what an incredible actress she must be. If it weren’t for all the facts she could produce about the future, he’d have no doubts at all. Somehow she always managed to intrigue him, and so he let the days float past. “I’ll meet Lucy at another time,” he’d say each day, consolingly. Always, at the mention of Lucy, his respectful attitude diminished and he would treat her like a child. At her bidding, John sat in on the consults, silent and brooding, obviously intrigued and amused by the verbal

exchange between two sharp personalities. He took notes of his own while Dr. Andrews set up his cumbersome reel-to-reel tape recorder, a machine Jenna laughed at. When questioned, she explained to the two men that in her world she could hold a tape recorder in the palm of her hand. She rambled on about her favourite technological toy, called a cell phone. “Phones that are calculators, contain address books, work as computers and can take photographs and moving pictures?” Dr. Andrews’ eyebrows could hardly have risen any higher. “Videos.” “Yes, videos. And it can be used as a computer to send messages to anyone, anywhere in the world?” “Yes. It’s the handiest little gadget, and I miss mine like crazy.” “You miss your cell phone? Don’t you miss your family and friends?” “Of course! Of course I miss my busy life. I miss my agent, Jake. He’s an old mother hen, a real pain, but he looks after me very well. He couldn’t make this trip with me—he had a tremendous cold and a high fever. Normally, he’s with me all the time. I miss my secretary, Marnie, who did come with me and must be frantic to find out where I went. She’s sharp as a whip and, between those two, my hectic life runs smoothly.” “What about your family?” “I have a very busy life modeling all over the globe. I’m well paid and I like the travel. It takes me away from having to spend much time in Seattle, where my mother lives. She’s a famous clothes designer and has her own fashion house.” “Don’t you like your mother? You don’t seem to be missing her very much.”

“Of course I like her, she’s my mother, but I disliked her husbands, all four of the losers. Most were bloodsuckers, after her money, and they lived on the edge of her success. She was their key into the world of the rich and famous.” “Hmm. And are you anyone’s key?” The silence was complete and lasted for long, intense minutes. Her skin turned pasty white.

Chapter Six “Dr. Andrews? I do believe Jenna needs a few minutes,” said a husky, hesitant voice unlike that of Jenna’s lighter, more firm tones. Heads jerked up as the two men looked at each other, stunned, and then turned to the young woman with them. Finally Dr. Andrews spoke. “Lucy? Is that you?” Hesitantly, she said, “Yes. I suggest we finish this meeting for today.” A pleading look sent in John’s direction followed, and his nod of agreement closed the session. From the day Jenna appeared in their lives, the worlds of both men had been wrapped up in hers. According to talkative Jenna, Lucy purposely retreated shyly before each of their gatherings. For weeks both doctors had tried to bring Lucy out, agreeing that either Lucy McGillicuddy was an incredible actress or she had multiple personalities. And what personalities! Jenna intrigued and excited them both. But to prove their case, they had needed to ascertain Lucy’s existence. What a medical miracle for them to witness! However, the next day John appeared alone to confront Lucy. She felt pale and shaky and was her own normal prim self. “Hello, Lucy?” “Yes. Please come in.” He sat across from her, where the dim lighting in the room did little justice to his

reasonably good looks. His receding hairline, chubby cheeks and rounded chin somehow fit with his compact body shape. His wire-rimmed glasses, perched over his insightful and demanding green eyes, allowed full view of their gentle golden lights. “I’m sorry we upset Jenna yesterday. I’ve been worried about her and wanted to come and check on her before today’s appointment. I’ve been worried about you, also. How are you today?” “I’m fine, but Jenna has shut down. She won’t even talk with me. I’ve tried begging and pleading, but nothing happens. I can feel her, her sadness, but she won’t open up. It’s no use.” Tears gathered and her now-slim fingers linked and covered her eyes. He leaned over to pat her shoulder. She flinched. He hurriedly removed his hand. “Maybe it’s best if we give her a few days. I’ll telephone you tomorrow. And I’ll ask Dr. Andrews not to come for a while, to give you both a rest.” “You’re so kind, Dr. Norman.” “Please, call me John. Jenna does, and I’d like for you to, also.” “Yes, Jenna is a free spirit and holds nothing back. Myself, on the other hand, I’m rather contained, if you know what I mean.” His head crooked to the side, questioningly. “I’m shy.” “I see. I understand about shyness. During medical school it tortured me until I realized a good doctor couldn’t afford the feeling, so I worked very hard to overcome it. It still takes over on occasion. Would you like me to teach you my methods? It would help you in your career and your social life.” “I’d like that ever so much.” For the first time Lucy

looked him straight in the eye. He was taken aback at how very beautiful her big brown eyes appeared when she wasn’t hiding them under lowered lashes. He was a toucher, and he reached over to pat her hand again but pulled back when he remembered she had repulsed his touch earlier. He stood abruptly and stammered his goodbyes, but he stopped so suddenly at the doorway that she almost ran into his back. She had to put a hand on him to steady herself. He turned, and in a hesitant voice he asked, “Would you do me the honour of dining with me on Saturday evening?” Redness suffused her complexion and her hands clutched her chest as if she were stopping her heart from popping right out of its cavity. “It, it’s very kind of you. I, I, yes, yes, please. Dinner would be very nice.” Power from within forced the words from her stunned lips. “I shall pick you up at seven.” “Yes, I’ll be here, of course I will, I mean, where else would I be, so, yes, fine. Right. Bye-bye.” **** How endearing a shy woman is in the fast-paced world we now live in, he thought to himself. Walking back to his clinic, he caught himself biting his lip, a habit he’d formed as a worried student. A habit he could have sworn he’d beaten years before. He stopped in his tracks and turned in the opposite direction to head towards the house at the end of the street, where Dr. Andrews lived. The good doctor answered the door. “Come in, my dear fellow. You’re just the person I wanted to see.” The two friends settled down for yet another consult on the mystery of the shy woman and her counter personality.

“I just left Lucy, and she’s very worried about Jenna,” said John. An annoying sound of banging reverberated through the open side window. Looking out, the men saw Dr. Andrews’ cleaning woman hard at work. “Mrs. Dorn, go and wallop that rug somewhere else. It’s very distracting.” Then he lowered his voice, adding more quietly, “Please.” He turned to John and sighed. “I’m a bear to live with lately. That woman has me up half the night.” “Mrs. Dorn?” “Don’t be thick. Of course not Mrs. Dorn.” The woman was fiftyish and massively overweight, with a wart-like appendage smack dab on the end of her bulbous nose. “It’s Lucy, isn’t it?” “Of course. I want to help her, but I have to admit it’s Jenna who intrigues me. She’s too credible to be fake, but then that means our case can’t be described as split or multiple personality, or any kind of schizophrenia, but some sort of time travel nonsense.” He shook his head back and forth and collapsed onto his favourite rocking chair. “I’ve discussed the case with an old school friend who now works at McLean’s, the psychiatric facility affiliated with Harvard. He’s in agreement that intensive psychoanalytic therapy is the best course, but he’s flummoxed, also. He suggested Thorazine, a medication given to extreme patients, but I’ve explained that Lucy and Jenna are functioning and all the tests we’ve run show a healthy body.” “Just a mind that’s cuckoo.” John grinned. “I’m afraid that’s about right.” Dr. Andrews nodded, trying desperately to keep a straight face. “I’ve told Lucy that we’ll let them rest a while, since Jenna still refuses to come out. I’ve invited Lucy out for a

meal with me. She’s been cooped up in that house far too long. She’s fretting over Jenna’s withdrawal and is beside herself with worry.” “My dear fellow, that isn’t a bit funny.” “What? Oh sorry, didn’t quite mean it the way it sounded, but now that you mention it…” He broke into uncontrollable guffaws and the tension eased as Dr. Andrews joined in, his face split in a grin.

Chapter Seven “Fine, then, if you won’t come out I shall go back to my old habits. Jenna, did you hear me?” Silence. “I’ve been good, haven’t I? I’ve followed your outlandish rules, and now I have nothing to wear that fits. I’ll have to go out shopping for new clothes by myself for the date you forced on me, and they’ll all be wrong. I promise you, my girl, you’ll hate everything we have to wear, and it’ll be in public. People will see us. And I’ll perm my hair again. It’ll be all frizzy like you hated it. It’s way too long, and I have no idea how to fix it up like you do.” Silence. “Jenna, I mean it. I do. Please, please talk to me. I know you’re there. I can feel you controlling me. No one meant to hurt you. Dr. Andrews is just a silly old charlatan. We don’t need him any longer. You can visit with John alone.” “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, you little hussy.” “Oh, thank goodness you’re back! Call me whatever you wish—I’m just so glad you’re talking with me again. Even though you’re a bother, I’ve missed you.” The last was said meekly, affectionately—shyly. Words weren’t necessary when Jenna opened herself because she sensed all Lucy’s fears and feelings, and for once in her life she had decided to put someone else first.

“We’re beginning to look pretty good, if I do say so myself.” Jenna strutted their body in front of the mirror and hugged the blousy dress close to the now more slender form. “See how our skin is glowing and not so blotchy? The cream you’ve been using every morning and night has done wonders. And I like long hair. It suits us better being long—it thins out our face more.” “Ours? It used to be all mine before, when you hated being me.” “I never once said I hated being you. I just used to love being me so much. Now I need to admit I have no idea why. After living with your thoughts and feelings for so long, Lucy, I realized that being me wasn’t so hot after all. I was one mean bitch.” “Can this be used as ammunition when you revert?” “Nope, it’s a one-time admission. Okay let’s get busy. What will you wear?” “I’ve never let on before, Jenna, but I have a rather healthy bank account we can dip into. There were no good reasons to spend my wages, and my grandparents—I grew up with them—left the house to me, so my expenses have always been minimal. I believe a new outfit is in order, something to give me confidence. Not that I need it, now that you’re back and will be with me.” “Hold it, chickie. Let’s get one thing straight. I’ve never been a third wheel in my life, and I don’t intend to start now.” “What may I ask, is a third wheel?” “The third person on a date, ménage à trois, the odd man out. See where I’m going here?” Lucy collapsed into near-hysterics. “I’m not going! I can’t go.” “What is wrong with you?” Jenna yelled. “Of course you’re going on the date.You made it.”

“I did not. You did. I felt you.” “No, Lucy.” The absolute quietness of her answer made it all the more believable. “You chose to say yes because you wanted to be with him that much. Admit it.” “Yes, but I never thought you wouldn’t be with me, for goodness’ sake. I can’t go through this alone. I’ll die—or worse, I’ll throw up on him again.” “No, you won’t. We’ll rehearse what you’ll say and how you’ll act. It’s easy, Lucy. If you look good, your confidence will be sky-high and nothing can go wrong. Trust me.” “Trust you?” Lucy all but screamed. “How can I, if you absent yourself when I need you the most? I’d be terrified to be alone on a date, just the two of us, together, all alone, by ourselves…” She ran for the brown bag and Jenna waited until the hyperventilating came to an end. “You’re being goofy now. Look at you—a grown woman, scared of a measly man.” “Easy for you to talk. You’ve had lots of men.” “Careful!” “Oh, you know what I mean. I’ve never even had a male friend, never mind a boyfriend. I grew up with two old fogies and spent most of my youth with an excessive degree of interest in whatever shoes I had on that day. I couldn’t look people in the eye, and it’s only been since I started work at the library that I’ve relaxed at all. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me in my life—a close second being strawberry ice cream.” Jenna answered dryly, “I’m glad I at least came first. Look, if you really need me I will be there to help. I won’t leave you in the lurch. Okay?” “Oh thank you! You’re a saint!” Jenna felt golden flutters of warmth flood her being as Lucy released her inhibitions and let her feelings flow.



Chapter Eight Lucy wailed. “You said to trust you. You said everything would be fine. You said…” “If you say ‘you said’ one more time, he’ll be treating you, not dating you. For heaven’s sake, look in the mirror. You’re lovely.” “Where’s the ‘we’ and ‘us’ and ‘ours’ now when I need you so much, eh?” “Look, I’m outta here. There’s no talking to you at all. Just relax and have a good time.” The knock at the door came at the precise moment when Lucy was sure a heart attack would be imminent. Jenna had faded so deep, Lucy came close to thinking she was single again. Once Lucy was settled across from John in the neighbourhood pub, she stopped dropping her handbag from nerveless fingers and a kind of peacefulness stole over her. The next few hours flew by swiftly for the two reserved people while tiny sparks of attraction lit and burst into a small but steady flame. Without discussion, it was understood that all references to any part of the ongoing crisis was taboo. Inhibitions died a natural death and insecurities fled as infatuation grew. By delving thoughtfully into each other’s quiet lives they became intimate friends. The evening had given up its hold on the sun’s warmth by the time John walked Lucy to her front door. They could hear the last wind rustling the leaves

goodbye as the night grew calm and the birds sang their final songs of the day. Now, more than ever, Lucy had a clear understanding of what a dear and kind man her date was. She’d known of his strength as a competent, well-liked doctor because she wasn’t averse to casually bringing his name into any and all conversations dealing with health issues. Clearheaded, sympathetic, gentle and highly intelligent were only some of the glowing endorsements she’d heard since he’d moved into town, along with choice and groovy, the favourite compliments from the younger population. All of a sudden her nervousness returned tenfold as she turned back to face him at her front door. “Would you like to come in, John? I could make us a pot of tea.” “Thank you, Lucy, but I think four cups of tea after a meal is my limit.” “There is some old sherry my grandfather kept, if you’d like a drink instead.” “No, my dear. It’s late, and you girls must get your beauty rest.” He endeavoured to bring some levity to a suddenly awkward moment. “It’s Jenna who needs her beauty rest. For me, it’s plain old sleep,” Lucy replied, trying to be funny in her own way and reverting back to old insecurities. “What drivel! To me you are the same beautiful person.” “It’s very kind of you to say so, but you don’t have to. I’m perfectly well aware of what I look like, and I’ll never be beautiful.” “Hogwash! Lucy McGillicuddy, the first day I met you I saw a lovely woman in difficulties, and I haven’t changed my opinion. In fact it’s been reinforced many times since.

And that’s all I want to hear on this subject.” He was like a ruffled bantam rooster chastising his chick, and she loved every minute of his tirade. She loved his sincerity. She loved his eloquence. She loved him. Without further thought, she leaned over and kissed him smack dab on the cheek. His eyes narrowed and he reached out and pulled her into his arms. He kissed her lips with every bit of the passion she’d only dreamt of in her wildest fantasies. And to make doubly sure she knew that he knew who he was kissing, he whispered her name before he kissed her again. While she stood utterly still, eyes tightly closed, lips still pursed, he said in a voice full of tenderness, “I’ll see you tomorrow, my sweet.” He left then, whistling all the way to his car, and with a sharp toot he drove off into the night. Lucy fumbled her way into the house and floated to the bedroom, where she stood in front of the mirror and looked searchingly at herself, scrutinizing her features and form. She heard Jenna whisper, “Look closely, pal. You are beautiful.” Lucy saw a fine-boned, firmly toned, lush feminine body a little over five feet tall, wearing a stylishly flowing pink frock with a gorgeous embroidered jacket to match. Her hair, back to its natural auburn colour, fell straight in a soft pageboy style that framed a piquant face oozing such kindness that most people, looking into her merry brown eyes, smiled instinctively. People liked her at first sight. Unfortunately, her shyness had always held her back from showing them she liked them, too, so communications would break down and she’d be left to

herself. She’d lived a sad, friendless life up till now, and isolation is hard to overcome. So is self-doubt. Her grandparents had been good to her in their own way, but they were in the winter of their lives by the time she came to live with them. She was five years old, and they only lasted eleven more years before they left her one after the other in rapid succession. Jenna broke the spell as she sensed terrible sadness overtake Lucy’s happiness of moments before. “What is it?” she asked quietly. “He said he thought I was beautiful from the beginning, but he lied. I don’t look anything like I used to. I don’t look like me anymore.” “Listen, you dim-witted idiot, because I’ll only say this one more time. He did tell you the truth. He doesn’t see me—or care about the outer you. He fell in love with the inner you—your soul. Lucy, look! He spoke with me first, right? For weeks and weeks we talked, and he was simply kind and curious. But from the moment you came on the scene he was hooked, smitten, a goner. Lady, you’ve freakin’ landed him.” “I have?” Lucy’s face glowed. “Oh, yeah. Hook, line and sinker.”

Chapter Nine Days became weeks, and weeks became a month and then another month before Jake would admit that there was no improvement or change in Jenna’s condition. The doctors had tried everything they knew to bring her out of her lifeless condition, but nothing seemed to work. The nurses looked after her very well, while Marnie and Jake took up the slack when the professionals were busy elsewhere. Both of them learnt how to administer physical therapy to work her muscles and how to turn her over, watching for painful bedsores. They policed the nurses and assessed her fluid intake. They spent multiple hours researching the Internet and believed they were authorities on coma. They sang to her and cajoled her to wake up, read to her and threatened her, but nothing worked. She never moved. She was easy to love in her condition, looking fragile, swathed in the ruffled gowns Jake bought for her because he knew if she awoke it would matter to her how she looked. His choice of sleeping garments was far from the reality of what Jenna actually slept in, but no one could know that, and so she was dressed up each morning like a doll and petted and cuddled more than she’d ever experienced in her life. Each day Jake prayed she would wake up and throw a colossal hissy-fit about her nails or some such foolishness, but each day passed another and there was no change. In the off hours when they weren’t at the hospital with

Jenna, Jake had taken to sitting on the bench where it all happened, where he felt Jenna’s spirit might still be hovering, lost and trying to find its way home. A special delivery van approached one afternoon and the driver carried a parcel to him with his name on it and the address to the vicarage. “Can you tell me where I might find Jake Dadson?” “You’ve found him. I’m Jake Dadson.” He signed for the small parcel and felt a quiver of excitement. Nestled inside was an old tape like those used in the sixties. He recalled an old recorder his father had hung onto—he was a packrat and had kept everything he’d ever owned. Jake turned the tape over and noticed a small envelope inside the wrapper. He didn’t recognize the handwriting or the name, Lucy McGillicuddy, but he knew the return address street. It was only a few blocks away from the vicarage. He opened the envelope and on the single sheet was a message that had him jumping up like a man shot from a cannon, all the while yelling for Marnie. “Where the hell are you? You have to see this!” “I’m coming. For heaven’s sake, calm down.” She read the note and plonked down on the nearest chair, incredulity stamped all over her features. “What does it mean?” The one sentence was self-explanatory, as far as he was concerned. “What do you mean, what does it mean?” Jake stammered. “It says Jenna wants you to listen to the tape and follow its instructions and Please Believe. It’s what we’ll do just as soon as I can find a recorder.” By the end of the day they had run down an old reelto-reel that would fit the tape, and they settled down to listen to the scratchy voice. By the date on the package

wrapping they were able to ascertain that the tape was forty-three years old, and that alone boggled their minds. The voice wasn’t precisely Jenna but the words certainly were. “Hi, guys, it’s me. I promise—it really is. I don’t have too much time here, so don’t mess around questioning everything I’m about to tell you, especially you, Jake, baby. You’re still there with me, I know it. I’m your meal ticket, right? And you wouldn’t give that up easily.” Jake caught his breath as he heard Jenna’s favourite snippy comeback she used regularly to upset him. “Marnie, I’m staking my life, literally, that you’re there with him. I need you both to do me a big favour. I’ve been transported somehow to the year 1963, same day, same time as you but just forty-three years earlier. Don’t expect me to tell you how this happened—I don’t know. I only know my spirit—brain, mind, whatever—left my body and now resides in Lucy McGillicuddy’s body, and I want to come home!” The last part was wailed in a voice breaking with frustration. “If a couple called Lucy McGillicuddy and John Norman haven’t contacted you before you receive this tape, then something has happened to them. Thank goodness Lucy was adamant that we put this parcel together as a backup. We arranged for the bank to send it on so you would receive it today. John Norman, my doctor, along with my shrink, Dr. Andrews, have come up with this plan, which I hope will work. When I was transported, I had just come from the vicarage to sit on my favourite bench, the one in front of the place, by the road. I stopped to smell the roses growing along the trellis behind the bench. Marnie, you

must remember. I pricked my finger and sat down on the bench to pull out the thorn, and that was the last thing I remember. In 1963, at the exact same moment, Lucy was behind the same trellis of roses located at the back of the seat of that same bench. She says she pricked her finger on a thorn, felt faint and sat down. I shifted to her time and into her body at that exact moment. “Honest, guys, it’s the truth. We have no explanation other than that there must be some kind of spell on the rose thorns, or the bench is cursed, or something like that, but we don’t know for sure. We’ve decided that a reenactment would be worth a try and so, therefore, you must put my body back on the bench at precisely twelve noon on Saturday, the 14th of October, which is two days from now. Lucy and I will be sitting on this side. Remember, and this is the most important step of all, prick my finger on a rose thorn before I sit down. If they are the same roses as they are in this time period, we might pull it off. If this date doesn’t work for you, we will be at the same time, same place, every Saturday from then on or until you hear from me again. “Please don’t fuss and argue over these orders or you’re both fired. Do you hear me? I need you to do this for me. I miss you guys dreadfully!” The last was wailed in a distinctly Jenna manner. There were no doubts in the minds of the two mesmerized, open-mouthed statues sitting stiffly forward on the two golden wingback chairs by the fireplace. They were both certain it was Jenna speaking, even if it wasn’t her voice. “Oh, my God,” whispered Marnie looking all around her. Her hair stood at attention all over her body. “My sentiments exactly. We can’t tell anyone about

this tape, Marnie, no one. Do you understand?” “Nobody would believe us! We’d be locked up. What are we going to do?” “Precisely what she has ordered us to do?” His voice ended the statement with a definite question at the end. “So, you tell me, how can we get her here?” “They’re so full up at the hospital right now that it’s been broached to me it’s time to move her back home to Seattle. I suggested bringing her here and hiring a nurse to look after her until arrangements could be made, and they jumped at it. Since her dear, sweet, bitch of a mother has been too busy to return after her first extended visit of two days, I’m sure they’d let us deal with moving her ourselves.” “That’ll work,” Marnie said reflectively. “We’ll have to set up a bedroom as a hospital room, but it can be done easily. We only have two days, so we’ll have to move fast.” “Jake, you know I’ll do all I can to help. I’m just flabbergasted. I want to believe, but it’s, it’s so preposterous.” “Yes, you’re right. It is preposterous, and crazy, and we’re certifiable for even thinking about doing it.” “Right!” “Right! So what do you say?” “Let’s do it.”

Chapter Ten “Lucy, quit stuffing food in your mouth. It’s disgusting.” “Oh, shush. I’m nervous. Tomorrow is the big day, and John will be so disappointed if his idea fails.” “John, John, that’s all I hear from you. What about me?” “You’re all you think about.” “So bite me. At least eat something healthy, not a bucket of strawberry ice cream. Eat an apple. An apple a day keeps the doctor away. Oops! That won’t work for you, will it?” Jenna said, trying not to giggle at her own joke. “You’re not funny. Anyway, I am healthy. It’s not me rooming in someone else’s body.” “My body is perfectly healthy.” “Right, so where is it?” Obviously, Lucy was picking up some of Jenna’s less desirable traits. Instantly she felt remorse and in the old Lucy manner tried to make up to her desolate friend. “Don’t worry, Jenna. John is certain your body is lying in a comatose state, and if your compliments about Jake and Marnie are true, I’m more than certain they have taken very good care of it—of you.” “Here we go again. You have to bring John’s name into every conversation. I’m sick to death of talking about him.” “You’re a mean old cow, you are.” Lucy’s middle finger was forced in front of her own face. “Eat me,” growled Jenna. “Where do you come up with those disgusting little ditties of yours? Eat me. Bite me. And you say I’m overly

concerned with food.” The next day Lucy, dressed in a stylish pair of tan slacks and a loose white blouse decorated with flowery embroidery, strolled nervously between John and Dr. Andrews to the bench where it all began. It was a bit early yet, but Jenna and Lucy were restless and bickering like small children—but not outloud. “Tell me again, in detail, what you did,” said John, looking at the lovely young woman at his side. She was holding tightly to his hand. “I’ve told you,” replied Lucy. “I was sitting on the bench and heard something behind me, and I got up to investigate.” Only Lucy could hear the silent snickers from Jenna. She continued sheepishly. “I walked as far as the stone wall, and then, seeing there was nothing alarming, I came back. I stumbled and pricked my finger on this vine. I felt faint and barely made it back to the bench. It was then the interaction happened. Jenna came in and I haven’t had any peace since.” “Go screw yourself.” Jenna spoke clearly, no pun intended, but it was a witty remark. All three of them started laughing at once, and it struck John so funny that when he bent over to catch his breath he stumbled and lost his footing, grabbed for the trellis and missed, pricking his finger on the very thorns they had just been discussing.

Chapter Eleven “I told you it would all work out, Marnie. Let’s get her ready and I’ll wheel her to the bench.” Jake and Marnie had brought Jenna back to the vicarage two days before and had set up a routine where the nurse worked a split shift, leaving the middle of the day open for them to be alone with Jenna. “We have to prick her finger before we sit her on the bench, don’t forget.” “Yes, yes, nag, nag. I’ve got it. Be sure to choose one of her favourite outfits, or we’ll hear about it when she comes through.” “I have. It’s the same white jeans outfit she was wearing the day it all happened. I wanted everything to be as similar as possible.” “Brilliant!” Jake waltzed her around the room, his face aglow. “I don’t know why you’re so happy for the little tart to come back. She’ll ride your ass again, just like she used to, the nasty-tempered cat. I can’t think why we put up with her.” “She pays well.” “Her one good quality.” “She’s smart as a whip.” “She has a mean mouth.” “True, but she’s lovely when she’s happy.” “Right. I remember the moment well.” “Oh, stop. You know you’ll be as happy as I will to

have our old lives back.” “I guess so. I’ll get her ready now. Do you want some time alone with her before we start?” “Thank you.” He headed for the bedroom to have one more stolen cuddle before zero hour. **** “Here’s where Jenna sat on the bench, the exact spot.” Marnie pointed to the space, a little to the left of centre. Both looked at the ethereal girl bundled up in the wheelchair. She was a pale shadow of the robust Jenna they remembered. “First, I’ll wheel her to the rosebush and cut a rose, and then I’ll undo her straps and carry her over to the bench to set her down.” Jake was a mutterer. “I can get the rose for you. Pass me the clippers.” Marnie grabbed them and cut a longish stem with multiple roses and very carefully passed it over to Jake. Because Jenna was a dead weight, it wasn’t easy to manoeuvre her alone. While he lowered her onto the bench, he felt her slide. He braced her, stabilizing her with his body on the bench next to her and at the same time stretched his hand out for the rose. An unseen thorn jabbed him and a frustrated cry escaped. His last movement was to clutch her unwieldy body to him as a bewildered expression engulfed his face. His eyes opened wide and stared sightlessly. With a moan he slumped over Jenna, sprawling forward. “Oh, my God, not again,” wailed Marnie. As she tried to steady Jake and stop both him and Jenna from falling to the ground, a man’s gnarly, wrinkled hands reached out to help. She felt rather than saw his presence behind her, and was thankful for his assistance.

Chapter Twelve “John, oh, no!” Lucy clasped him to her. “You’re mistaken, miss. My name is Jake Dadson.” He pushed away from her and swung his head back and forth. “Where the hell are the two ladies I was with a second ago?” He shook off her clinging hands and went to stand up, but Dr. Andrews restrained him. Jake stared at the agitated woman beside him and asked, “Who are you?” “Jake, I don’t believe this. What the hell are you doing here?” Jenna had connected that officious tone of voice to its identity immediately. “Jenna? Baby, is that you in there?” Jake frantically grabbed Lucy’s shoulders and proceeded to jostle her back and forth. “Stop it, you fool! You’re hurting her—me—whatever. Just stop!” Jenna, more frustrated than she’d ever felt before, was frothing, and only Lucy’s sensibilities held her back from physically clobbering the weak man in front of them. Thwarted, Jenna receded. The ashen quality to his face was the first indication that the new transplant was undergoing some difficulties. “John, stop fighting the takeover,” Dr. Andrews yelled. John’s strong character was opposing the entrance of someone else into his consciousness, and the stress could create a physical problem, even bring on a heart attack.

Shudders attacked John’s body until finally he gave over, and his head lolled forward as a strange peacefulness enshrouded him. Eventually, he gained back sufficient strength to enable Lucy and Dr. Andrews to coax him back to Lucy’s house, where he sat in a chair as if in a trance. Slowly Jake emerged again and became gradually aware of his surroundings. Fascinated, he studied his slender, well-formed hands. “May I have a mirror, please?” He gazed into the looking glass for a long time and then said amicably to the strange face looking back at him, “Hello, my name is Jake Dadson, and it seems I’ve intruded into your life.” Words answered him, but they reverberated in his mind. “My name is John Norman. Since it seems to be my fault you are here, I guess I can’t be too annoyed, but I must say it is uncomfortable sharing my thoughts with someone else.” Lucy handed John the cup of sweetened tea that Dr. Andrews had ordered as a shock sponge. She soothingly enquired, “How are you feeling now, my dear?” “I’m fine now, Lucy. Don’t worry. We’ll think of something to fix this situation, I promise.” He patted her hands, which had shredded two tissues and were now working on destroying a third. Dr. Andrews, deep in thought, sat fidgeting until suddenly he leapt to his feet with a startled exclamation. “I think I may have the answer to our predicament,” he said, “but I need more time to work it out. I’ll be in touch soon.” He let himself out, his face wearing a closed expression. Lucy was conspicuously uneasy with the situation, and felt as if John had suddenly become a stranger to

her. She mutely beseeched Jenna to come out to talk to Jake, and then she shut down. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” sneered Jenna as she opened up and turned to the astounded fellow watching. “You’ll get used to the voice changing. In fact you’ll be experiencing it firsthand. I can’t believe you and Marnie botched things up. It should have been so simple. What happened?” Jake couldn’t get over the switch. From one moment to the next a sweet expression dissolved into dissatisfaction. “I don’t know what happened. It was a few minutes till noon, and I was lifting you from your wheelchair when you started to slide and I had to sit down myself to catch you, and—wham! I’m here.” “I’m in a wheelchair?” “You’re in a coma.” “I don’t want to know. Just tell me I’m no different.” “You’re a bit thinner, possibly more beautiful, and a hell of a lot easier to get along with.” “Thank you, I guess. What will happen now? I was so sure this would work out, and now I don’t know. I guess we’ll have to send another parcel, this time to Marnie.” “That worries me. Who will be there to help her? She can’t possibly do it alone, not now with two bodies to look after,” Jake said glumly. “You’re right. Who could she enlist that would believe her story enough to give her a hand?” “They’d figure she was a nut job and put her on Prozac,” Jake admitted. Jenna started to cry and Jake put his arms around her trembling body, holding her tight and wishing he could join her. “Shush, little love, things will work out,” he said,

forgetting he was talking to the real Jenna and not an empty body. The aching sweetness in his voice stirred Jenna. She’d never heard Jake speak with such tenderness. The voice was quite different, but the inflections were exact. She leaned back to gaze into John’s eyes, and deep, very deep, in the back of them she caught a familiar glow of the teasing cheekiness that was pure Jake. It was wonderful to feel him near, and for the first time since the folly began she felt safe. She’d missed him terribly. Over the last months Jake had gotten used to touching Jenna with love. Without forethought he brought his hands up to cradle both sides of her face and lowered his lips to hers. Slowly, achingly so. She held her breath as spasms of delight exploded throughout her body. He nibbled first one side of her mouth and then the other, his lips scarcely touching hers. He teased her mouth with his tongue and licked his way inside. Her moan of desire was his undoing. He swooped and drained her passion. His hands gathered her closer into a loving embrace. They massaged her back and roved to her buttocks where they kneaded, gently shifting her body around so there would be better access to her breasts and to paradise between her agitated legs. She rotated herself to give him all the space he wanted. Rockets were exploding all around her and she had never felt so fine. He manipulated her body like a maestro playing his beloved instrument. His brazen technique soon had her swollen with need. Deep under his spell, she shushed scruples and ignored prickles of inner resistance. His hands worked their way around to her front, where his fingers were reaching under her flowing white blouse

for her breasts while his mouth was busy devouring her willing neck. “Hold it, you two. I understand your sentiments, but I must point out that these are not your bodies. If Lucy and I want to—er—make out, it would be fine, but… “Goody!” “Lucy, go away,” Jenna admonished breathlessly. “What was that?” Jake asked. “Lucy said, ‘Goody,’” replied Jenna. “I can talk for myself,” Lucy cut in. “John, I agree with you.” “Agree to what?” John asked, lost in the four-way conversation. “To make out with you. If you want to, that is.” “Oh, for God’s sake,” Jenna groaned. She was shocked at what had almost happened between her and Jake. Of all people—Jake? She was not into sex, normally, and was stunned at what had nearly happened. It was time for her to set him straight. “Jake, don’t make up your mind that I’m easy or promiscuous after what just happened. I’m not.” Confessions didn’t come easy to Jenna, but honesty did. “I know I’ve had a lot of boyfriends, but—trust me—the main reason none of them ever lasted is because I wouldn’t have sex with them. For a while, escorting a beautiful model satisfied them, but ultimately they’d get frustrated and leave. I don’t particularly like sex. Its messy and painful and not a lot of fun.” “It isn’t?” Lucy popped out. “Lucy, get lost,” Jenna snarled. “Jenna.” Jake cut in on the babbling. “Pay attention. I want you to understand what I’m about to say. I don’t want to have sex with you. I want to make glorious,

passionate love to every inch of your body until your eyes cross.” “Oh! Dear me,” Lucy whispered. “My sentiments exactly,” John whispered back.

Chapter Thirteen For two days John stayed away from Lucy and, it follows, Jake and Jenna were separated also. John felt a coolingdown period was imperative for everyone involved. As he awaited word from Dr. Andrews on his new strategy, he grappled with having to share his thoughts and feelings with another entity and decided he didn’t like it at all. His sympathies for Lucy increased daily. Jake was not totally in agreement with the philosophy of “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.” He drove John crazy arguing his personal point of view, and tempers swelled. It must have been a full moon, some freak of nature or wacky weather phenomena disturbing the locals, because patient numbers were on the rise, and it didn’t help at all that every time his internal roommate saw blood, he’d swoon. John was fed up and his clients were beginning to eye him suspiciously. He and Jake hadn’t managed the art of mental discussions nearly as well as the ladies had, so there were many interruptions of thought, which didn’t help his concentration. John had never met a fellow with more questions, some of them very personal. Jake’s vibes were good-hearted, sensitive and friendly, but still John was feeling very hard done by. He missed Lucy, and it didn’t help that Jake mooned over Jenna every minute. Finally, Dr. Andrews called and arranged a meeting at Lucy’s house that night, and not a minute too soon.

“Did Dr. Andrews tell you what his plans were?” Jake prodded, once more pushing John’s internal buttons. “You heard exactly what I heard, Jake.” John rolled his eyes behind his wire-rims again. “Right! What do you think he’s come up with?” “I haven’t a clue, and stop being a pain in the neck.” “Oh, suck it up. I’m nervous and I always talk too much when I get nervous.” It was one of Jake’s most endearing qualities that in moments of stress he would act like a young, uninhibited boy. “Suck it up! I can see the English language has deteriorated appallingly with your generation.” “You’re an intellectual snob. Did anyone ever tell you that before?” “Yes, thank you. I’d rather be a snob than a slob.” “Damned if I don’t like you, John. Let’s move our butt and get over to the house to see how our ladies have fared.” Chuckling, with humour restored, John replied, “It’s early yet. How about sharing a beer first?” “Yep, you’re my man,” said Jake, happy again. “Don’t remind me.” A short time later they were seated in Lucy’s newly redecorated, cozy parlour. The changes reflected a conspicuous Jenna touch, and it was easy to see what the ladies had been up to in the last few days. The attractive red-and-gold embossed draperies added warmth to a room mainly furnished in dark cherrywood furniture. There were two small sofas covered in a golden brocaded material and angled around a square coffee table. The old mantel around the fireplace had been sanded and painted a pale gold to contrast the furniture. By the hearth was a set of brass fireplace tools. A fluffy ivory afghan, artfully arranged over the brown

leather rocking chair, added a soft touch. Now that Jenna’s hidden talent for knitting had been passed on to an ecstatic Lucy, it made the cover, knitted with her very own hands, that much more precious. The starched doilies, scattered over the polished wood, dated the room. Jenna hated them but Lucy had insisted they be displayed because her grandmother had made them and in Lucy’s mind they were a treasure to be exhibited and not stuck away. The soft lighting from two expensive pole lamps swathed the room in golden hues, and the words “good taste” were foremost in the minds of the guests as they stepped over the threshold. Lucy was proud of herself and thrilled with her new environment, and Jenna knew that Lucy couldn’t wait for John to see what she’d accomplished—because, after all, Jenna was all thought and no action. Jenna was also feeling proud of Lucy, who now walked erect, head held proudly, displaying her beauty. She was no longer cowering from life and had begun to open up to the neighbours and make new friends. She was much happier, and it saddened Jenna that the upcoming separation would mean goodbye. On the other hand, she knew it was time to leave, more than time. Jake had promised that her body was being well looked after and she believed him, believed in him, but she wanted to be back living in it—almost as much as she wanted Jake. What’s that all about? Her mind was boggled at how often Jake filled her thoughts, and only Lucy knew of the steamy X-rated dreams that filled her nights. She had never before experienced sensual desires like the ones Jake had aroused in her. Thinking of him brought reactions in Lucy’s body that tattletaled on where Jenna’s thoughts were heading. She’d get a swift rebuff from

Lucy, who wanted her own thoughts of John to affect her body, not someone else’s fantasies. Meanwhile, after spending all these many weeks sharing the mind space of the gentlest, most considerate person she’d ever known, Jenna was more than ready to make overdue changes to her own behaviour. Lucy’s personality traits had rubbed off, and Jenna would be the better person for it. She was glad her thoughts weren’t so sour anymore, and she was ready to improve her own life. A pealing doorbell announced the late arrival of Dr. Andrews, who looked quite pleased and definitely satisfied. He shook hands with everyone and accepted a glass of Guinness before settling in the comfortable leather chair the other two had courteously left for him. Jake, who couldn’t contain himself another moment, broke out with, “Give us the straight goods, Dr. Andrews. What have you come up with?” While the doctor described the arrangements he’d made, based on assumptions only, because there was no proof or precedent, his listeners were astonished at his genius. Considering it was their futures in the balance, they simply prayed he knew what the hell he was talking about.

Chapter Fourteen “You’re here,” said Marnie. Relief rang in her voice and her shoulders sank inches as she released a deep, noisy breath. “Yes, of course. Did you think you were imagining me?” the old man asked, a smile tugging at the corners of his moustache-covered mouth. “I guess not, but you have to admit that the bizarre happenings of the last few months would lead any sane person to question themselves, Dr. Andrews.” He chuckled. “That’s true, I suppose. But I thought I’d convinced you of my identity the other day. I explained the whole story to you. I told you how I came to be with you at the exact moment you needed me.” For the last forty-some years, his solitary bachelor’s life had kept him living in a vacuum of his own making. He preferred his introverted lifestyle because not having to interact with others left him more time for reading and for his studies. Over the years he had become the foremost expert on time-travel theories. He’d written a few books on the subject, and many students interested in the field of quantum physics sought after his knowledge. He recognized that his whole life’s work could be attributed to the events coming up and the related events that had happened forty-three years before. Now that this day had arrived, he was glad he had kept his body fit and strong and stayed in good health so that he would be here to see the exchange of Jake and

Jenna with his own eyes once again, only this time he would witness them being replaced into their own bodies. He still lived in his family home, situated close to the vicarage, and every six months or so he would read again the extensive files he’d kept for forty-three years. They explained why it was so important that these events be allowed to happen in sequence, how the young people involved benefited so greatly from knowing each other, and how enriched their lives were from the shared experiences they had lived through. No one must interfere or change the past or the future. He had arrived at the scene just in time to help the young secretary Marnie with two body shells that needed to be looked after. For the next week neither of them had a moment to spare, because the nursing duties had taken all their time, but now the week had passed and it was the next Saturday, coming up to the noon hour. They were pushing the wheelchairs with Jake’s and Jenna’s bodies in them towards the bench. “First we’ll prick Jake’s finger. Then I’ll take Jake’s right side if you’ll take his left, and we’ll swing him over to sit on the bench,” Dr. Andrews said, taking charge. “Right. Put the brakes on, and ready—heave,” said Marnie. Her voice stressed from Jake’s dead weight. She’d never realized what a tall man he was, probably because Jenna was a little over six feet and when the two were together they fit so well. He’d always insisted on dressing formally while at work or at social functions with Jenna; maybe that was his way of remembering she was his livelihood, not that she didn’t remind him often enough. One never did realize that the man in the suit had the body of a Rocky Balboa. Curls attacked his hair, which had grown longer and framed a strong face with magnificent, deep-set, golden-

tiger eyes. Larger-than-normal lips, with the top one somewhat protruding, added a sexy pout to a smile that would start at one side of his mouth and work its way across when he was amused. The last week had been grueling, and Marnie didn’t know what she would have done without Dr. Andrews’ help. At first, when she had to face the fact Jake had somehow disappeared, leaving the empty shell of his body for her to collect, she just wanted to sit and howl. Dr. Andrews had calmed her, supported her and coerced her into going along with the swap one more time. He’d spent hours describing how Jenna had joined with Lucy and how both girls had benefited by the change. Outwardly Lucy showed the greatest difference, but in getting to know Jenna during the lengthy counseling sessions they’d had, he’d realized that Jenna had gained much more from the time they were together. Because Lucy was such a sweetheart, some of her sweetness had rubbed off onto her complete opposite and, vice versa, in all fairness it could be said that many of Jenna’s strengths were lessons Lucy needed to learn. Lucy had lost over thirty pounds, gained oodles of selfconfidence, learnt how to dress and apply makeup, and switched from a frumpy old-maid-in-the-making into a lovely modern young woman. Jenna’s lesson, on the other hand, was to learn that the best way to keep people near her was not to overpay them, or order them to leave and then fear they would, but to care about them and let them care about her. “I’ll have to see it to believe it,” Marnie muttered. “I’ve worked with Jenna for over five years, and all I can say for her is she respects the work I do, she pays me exceedingly well, and she doesn’t throw things at me like she does at Jake.” Being an honest person, Marnie

added, “Of course, he pushes her buttons. She’s fired him so many times and he’s never left. Just shows up at the office the next day same as usual.” “She needs him in her life, and by firing him she’s testing him to see if he’d leave her.” Dr. Andrews was so definite on this shocking point that Marnie, leaning forward with her mouth open, just had to ask. “What makes you say that?” “She’s in love with him and isn’t aware of it.” Marnie knew that Jake wasn’t aware of it, either. She kept to herself the knowledge of all the hours Jake had spent with Jenna’s comatose body and how lovingly he’d taken care of her. After all, it was his business, and over the years Marnie had learned one very important lesson. The best way to lose a job was to gossip about the boss. “Tell me again how you planned the switchover today.” Marnie was still confused. “When I arrived at Lucy’s a few nights after the debacle of trying to extricate Jenna from Lucy and instead ending up with Jake, I explained to them that when Jake received the tape it proved that neither Lucy nor John had contacted you and Jake about Jenna’s situation. Something obviously had happened to them, but what about me? My genetic background was one of longevity on the male side and since I was only forty in 1963 it was quite plausible for me to be still alive in 2006.” “But how did you know it would work?” “Quite simple. The next Saturday at noon Lucy and John and I went to the bench and the exchange happened without a hitch, and that’s when I knew.” “What did you know?” demanded Marnie, still at a loss. “That I’d be alive and here to help you. You see, my dear, I sent myself a tape so I would be sure to appear at

the right time.” He didn’t bother to explain about the files he’d kept all these years. “Well, in that case, why didn’t you send yourself the tape to stop the whole situation from ever happening?” “How could I? If it never happened, I would never have known about it, right?” “Okay, I can see that, but then when you realized something could go wrong with Jenna coming back, which it did, why didn’t you appear then?” “I could have, but I honestly didn’t even know if the tape would work. It wasn’t until Jake came through that we realized it had worked.” “Okay, now I understand, but I’m still not too sure of how you’re so certain that our switch tomorrow will work.” “Because tomorrow is the exact day forty-three years ago that Lucy and John said goodbye to Jenna and Jake. I was there.” “So what you’re saying is, it worked.” Marnie’s voice was rising in excitement. “Yes, my dear. It worked brilliantly.”

Chapter Fifteen Dr. Andrews proved to be right. When they settled Jake solidly on the bench, strapping him down, he was limp for a few moments. Then the flinching started, first in his hands and then in his feet. Next his spine straightened and his head moved. Quite suddenly his eyes opened wide and he had reoccupied his body fully. It took a little while longer before he became conscious, but as soon as he was, he started to bark orders. “Quick, help me out of this rig.” He was weak and needed Dr. Andrews’ support to make it over to his chair. He looked all around and spotted Jenna by the gate. “Bring Jenna here now. Did you prick her finger?” His voice shook from his throat being dry. “I’ll do it right now, Jake,” answered Marnie, who had run over to Jenna and taken her finger and felt a spurt of mean satisfaction when she pricked it darn good and hard. Make sure it takes was the thought that popped into her mind. Damned if I want to be doing this again. Jake stared up at Dr. Andrews hovering over him, checking his pulse and looking into his eyes. “Hel-lo, Dr. Andrews!” Jake glanced over to see Marnie pushing a wheelchair close to the bench. “I love you, Marnie, my girl. First thing tomorrow you’re getting a raise.” He shoved the doctor lightly aside and stood up on wobbly legs. “Let’s get that gorgeous body on the bench and get this switch over and done with. I can’t wait to hold my girl

in my arms again.” He looked away from Marnie’s shocked expression, but not before she saw tears glinting. He winked her way while at the same time his jaw trembled with emotion. God, it was good to have him back, she decided. She’d missed him much more than she’d missed her employer. Jenna’s pallor was disturbing to Jake, but he knew her wan, ashen face and thin body would resume its healthy glow in a matter of weeks with good food and care. They set her in the same place where he had sat only moments before, strapped her there, and then collectively held their breaths. Flutters of movement started in Jenna’s hands first, her fingers twitching. She whimpered and tried to force her body erect, but it quite simply was too weak. Her blue eyes opened and were glazed with tiredness. “What is wrong with me?” Croaking out each word in a pitiful, feeble voice, she glowered accusations. Then she looked around, saw her friends and relaxed. She was home. “My love, you’re frail from lying in a coma for months. Give it time. You’ll get your strength back, I promise you.” Jake hovered near her on his knees. They bundled her into the wheelchair and made their way into the vicarage, where Dr. Andrews did a cursory exam of her vital signs. Marnie fell back into her old habit of staying close but in the background. Jenna’s eyes roved the room until she spied her. “Thank you, Marnie,” she said. Her voice was already stronger. She stretched both hands up to grasp Marnie’s hand and repeated emotionally, “Thank you so much for staying with me.” “You’re welcome, boss. I’m glad to see you again.”

Upon saying the words, Marnie realized how very sincere they were. She had missed her lively, bratty boss. “Jake,” Jenna ordered next. “Please, take me to the mirror.” Since she couldn’t stand, Jake had to wheel her over and help her up so that she could see for herself— she was truly back. The screech could almost be heard on the street. “What the hell have you done to me? I look horrible! Where’s the rest of me?” she whispered fiercely, gripping her cheeks in her hands. This was too much. Marnie jumped to her feet in fury. “Why, you ungrateful little bitch! Do you realize how hard it was to take care of you, a dead weight lying there? We had to feed you through tubes, administer your medications, wash you and turn you every so many hours, and talk to you till we were hoarse. We brought you here to…” Jenna cut in, her voice pathetic. “Please, Marnie, forgive me. It was the shock, and I think some of my bitchiness must have remained in my old body after all. I’m sincerely sorry, my dear, and I’m lucky to have you and Jake and Dr. Andrews as my friends.” Jake, trying to help settle emotions, turned to Dr. Andrews. “You were right all along—your idea worked.” Dr. Andrews looked searchingly at Jake. “What do you remember about the last week?” “If you mean do I remember being a roommate in John Norman’s body, then yes, I remember it all.” “Jenna,” Dr. Andrews interrupted her catch-up conversation with Marnie. “What do you remember about the time you were away?” “I remember everything, doctor, especially about how brilliant you were—are—whatever.” Laughter is touted as being the best of medicines and

for the next hour giggles and reminiscences evoked medical miracles.

Chapter Sixteen The next night Jake crept into Jenna’s bedroom after Marnie had retired. “Are you sleeping?” he whispered quietly. “I drifted off earlier, for an hour or so, but now I’m wide awake. I’ve been hoping you’d come to me.” “I wasn’t sure if you’d welcome me or not. I picked up on your goodnight smile and sensed an invitation—or should I say that I prayed it was an invitation? These last two days have sped by so fast, and we really haven’t had any time alone…” Jenna burst out laughing, and after he thought back over what he’d said, he had to join in. “You know what I meant. It’s hard for a guy to make out with his woman when she’s in someone else’s body.” “Am I your woman?” “Uh-huh!” “And you want to make out with me?” She wore a witch’s smile, tantalizing and provoking. “More than I want to breathe. Unfortunately, I’m a gentleman, and it wouldn’t be fair to take advantage of you in your condition. You’re weak and have been through so much. I can wait…” “Oh, shut up and get in here,” she ordered as she lifted the blankets on his side of the bed. He had her in his arms in seconds, cuddled against his length. Her eyes had widened when he’d first entered the room wearing only pyjama bottoms and in the glow of

the bedside lamp she’d been able to see his muscular shape. How marvellous, she thought giddily. His chest was wide and tanned, and the triangle of chest hairs he sported was so macho and so unlike the Jake she had thought she knew that it took her breath away. He was a gorgeous male specimen, right under her nose all that time, and she hadn’t even seen it. Goes to show how right Lucy was.Just call me superficial, Jenna thought. He held her tenderly and smoothed his hands up and down her arm like he was patting his dog, which finally got to her. She realized if she wanted anything to happen she’d have to start it herself. Little did Jake know that with each passing hour, her strength was returning. True, she couldn’t walk any long distances or sit for long periods, but lying here in his arms she felt energized and for the first time in so long she felt passion saturate her body, and that gave her power. Walking might still be a problem, but making love would be a snap. She needed this to happen, needed to feel alive. Her hands lifted and pushed him away as she sat up and pulled off the ruffled monstrosity they’d laid out for her. Not wanting to push buttons again, she’d worn it rather than complain, but now she was glad to be rid of it for more than one reason. The light from the same bedside table that had highlighted him to her now did a similar favour for Jake, throwing a golden halo over her beautiful, frail body. He shook with needs tamped down for so long. “Now,” she said. “I want you to treat me like a woman, your woman, and not a pet poodle.” With adoration stamped over his features, he touched her breasts, hand fillers so beautifully formed, with hard, pink nipples distended and begging to be kissed. He

leaned up and gently cupped one breast while he kissed her neck as she arched above him. He treated one side the same as the other and covered both with kisses, licks and little love bites until she collapsed over him and nestled right in. He turned her onto her back and gazed down at her adoringly. “I love you.” He mouthed the words. He waited but not in vain. Her reply was the same; no sound at all, just the message from lips and eyes. It was all he needed as he kissed her silly, his passion barely held under control while his erection lost the battle and grew, becoming hot and hard. With her legs splayed open, he nestled between them and his eager member surged towards the area designed especially for it by the maker. He was careful to keep his full weight off her, resting on his elbows, but she would have none of that nonsense. Feeling his body covering hers was therapeutic, as well being a large part of her earlier fantasies. His pyjama bottoms impeded their joining and were peeled off, two pairs of hands tearing at them, helping each other. He wanted to slow things down, to concentrate on her face, kissing and nibbling at her eyes, her lips, her ears. It was important to him to make this a memorable night of lovemaking, to teach her the beauty of the physical act between a man and a woman who love each other. She wouldn’t co-operate. Agitated movements enticed him to move things along. She arched her lower body and he quickly became diverted downwards. He stopped at her neck, licking and nuzzling. She moaned and rolled her face back and forth invitingly, opening both sides to his searching mouth. Her chest heaved and rubbed against his, deflecting his attention. He held her swollen breasts, tenderly

kissing first one and then the other, his hands forever active, kneading and rubbing, caressing and stroking. She was on fire. Her breath came in spurts and she felt again as if she was experiencing an out-of-body miracle. Flutters of ecstasy started and ended up flooding her system. Hot wetness flowed and she was ready for the first time in her life. Ready to mate with her man. Her response was to wriggle this way and that until she felt him at the entranceway to where heaven was waiting. It was what she had been made for—he was what she had been made for. They fit perfectly. All his gentlemanly feelings were forgotten in an instant, as he became the passionate, hungry man of her dreams.

Chapter Seventeen Jenna was in a frenzy, her usual state on a day she had to fly. Packing her own luggage was always a priority with her. Regrettably, her organizational skills left something to be desired, and the room looked like a destructive cyclone had been through it. “Why does Dr. Andrews want to see us this morning? We saw him yesterday, and he knows we have packing to do today because we’re leaving tonight. I thought he was going to come to the airport with us to say his goodbyes.” Jenna was anxious to get home and back to work now that she felt so much better. The last two weeks of recuperation had been wonderful, but life had to resume, and she had a wedding to plan. “I’m not sure, sweetheart. He’s taking us for a drive to see something he thinks we’d be sorry to miss.” Jake shrugged, his hands held out in front of him in a standard what-do-I-know gesture. Shortly, Dr. Andrews was knocking at their door. They stopped packing and together went to greet their old friend and liberator. In the car, Dr. Andrews gave them last-minute instructions on coping with any lingering health issues once they landed back home. “Take things easy for a while. Get plenty of rest. Don’t get back on the treadmill too soon, particularly you, Jenna. You might think you’re strong, but your body will need you to spoil it for some time to come.” He was a bit

of an old lady, picky and stubborn. That’s what comes from living alone most of your life, Jenna thought. She poked Jake and jerked her head in the doctor’s direction. “Where are you taking us, Dr. Andrews?” asked Jake, following his love’s evident hints. “I want you to meet some very close friends of mine before you leave,” said the thoughtful gentleman. Both Jenna and Jake recognized the small house instantly. As the car pulled into the driveway, the front door opened and an elderly couple emerged, smiles of welcome on their friendly faces as they recognized Dr. Andrews’ car. They were both considerably older. Lucy’s hair was white but still worn shoulder length and curled around her plump face. John, his arm around his wife affectionately, was balding and stooped with age and arthritis, but his familiar direct gaze over the top of his wire rims brought tears to Jenna’s eyes. Introductions were made. It was obvious to the young people that these two old dears had forgotten them. Lucy seemed the same, only older, but after a short while they could tell that John’s brilliant mind had weakened. He had lapses of memory and tended to cling to his wife fretfully. Jake and Jenna were saddened, because their precious reminiscences were so strongly entrenched in their hearts. It was a short visit, as they had a plane trip to get ready for, but they left with warm handshakes and best wishes—and an emptiness deep in Jenna’s soul. Then, just at the moment they reached the car, a soft voice could be heard. “Jenna?” Lucy called questioningly. “My dear, I feel I need to hug you goodbye.” Jenna reached out and warmly scooped the shorter

woman into her arms. She closed her eyes and held on, all her energy forming a shimmering net of love around them. “I missed you,” whispered Lucy.

Afterword Thank you so much for reading She’s Me, Book #1 of my Vicarage Bench Series. I loved writing this story and I hope you enjoyed reading it. If so, I would ask you for a favor. Wherever you purchased this book, please take a few minutes and leave an honest review. Authors enjoy hearing that readers like their stories, and hopefully, others will read your words and choose to buy the book because of your sentiments. My website at http://mimibarbour.com now has all my books listed with links to the various publishers to make it easy for you to return to where you bought the book and to find my other work. While you’re there, I’d really appreciate it if you would sign up for my newsletter so I can keep in touch. http://bit.ly/mimibarbournewsletter I normally send out newsletters every few months and you have my word that your address will never be shared. Hugs, Mimi

He’s Her Prologue - Book #2

He’s Her Vicarage Bench Series – Book #2 By Mimi Barbour, NYT & USA Today best-selling author A casino owner from Vegas, Rhett Parks, was relaxing on a bench in a small English town. To his dismay, a young woman interrupted his sanctuary. A minute later, his body was out cold on the ground and he was taking up residence inside of the intruder – schoolteacher Carrie Temple – and without her permission. Carrie Temple’s first words “get out” didn’t solve anything because he had no idea of how he got in. During the next few weeks they fought each other, taught each other and began to love each other, not an easy accomplishment considering the situation, but doable, as Rhett proved to sweet, naïve Carrie. They became involved with strange Dr. Andrews who assured them he had the answers to solve their problem,

but Rhett’s brother Ashley, who they turned to for help, was absolutely certain, that the man they were putting their faith in, was a charlatan and a quack. Prologue 2007 “If we do this, there’ll be no turning back. Sweetheart, are you sure it’s what you want?” His frail voice wavered. “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. I want to keep you with me—always. Please, please understand. You must.” The grey-haired woman, faded beauty in her weary face, leaned her slender form towards the pale travesty of a once vibrant man. The washed-out blue pyjamas he wore were typical hospital couture; not so was the luxurious navy velour robe that hung on his withered frame. In contrast, dressed in her stylish turquoise dress, the woman had a youthful heartiness and an innate vitality despite the tired lines around her eyes. Her companion sighed, slapped his hands on his knees and nodded. “Right! We’ll leave as soon as we can make the arrangements. Each day my strength fails a little more. I don’t want to be a burden longer than necessary, and the doctors did warn us that the end would come quickly.” “Darling, I’ve asked your brother to come, and he’s willing and ready to leave at a moment’s notice. He’ll be a strong arm to cling to, through everything.” “Yes, it’s a good idea.” He leaned to tenderly caress the beloved face of the woman he’d adored for fortyseven wonderful years. “You’re still so beautiful, my wild rose.” “And you’re still a silver-tongued devil.” She kissed him softly, lingeringly.

“Sweetheart, I must tell you. I feel a sense of relief in making this decision.” “You do? I’m glad.” She gently patted his dear face. He nodded, gazing into her eyes, his own full to the brim with tears. “It’s because I know now that I won’t be leaving you, after all.” Chapter One 1967 The tall, slim, well-endowed broad was strolling directly towards him. Damn! He didn’t want to share this bench with anyone else, even a classy chick like her. The last few hectic days had taken their toll. He needed to catch his breath and unwind. Alone! She smiled and nodded to acknowledge him and continued to head toward the back of his bench, where a luxurious, fragrant bush full of wild roses spread its splendour. Rhett watched her slide tiny garden clippers from her shoulder bag. He supposed she was pilfering roses, and he wished she’d get on with it and leave him to his peaceful sanctuary. He heard a snipping sound, followed immediately by a whimper and a sucking noise as she babied what must be a wound. Feeling peevish, he ignored her. This pretty spot, just in front of the timeworn vicarage and near a busy country lane, had become Rhett’s safe haven over the last few days as he organized and attended his father’s lonely funeral. The vicar, himself and his old man had been the only guests at the service. His father had wished to be buried in England, in the church cemetery near the vicarage close to where he’d grown up. Rhett decided to honour this last request, though why he felt it necessary was beyond him. The old guy had paid scant attention to his family, including Rhett, his oldest son. While Rhett was a boy, the old man

ignored him. As the boy grew to be a man he reciprocated, and so they never had a close relationship. Being an actor, making love to his leading ladies, and seeing his name in lights was all the fool cared about. Other than the ridiculous name bestowed on him, Rhett Parks inherited little else from the man who’d demanded to be called Father—never Dad. “I’m sorry. I seem to have pricked myself. I feel slightly faint.” The intrusive woman stumbled toward the seat beside him and slumped onto it, letting her purse drop to the ground. Her rose, the instigator of the disruption, landed at his feet. Without hesitation, he bent and picked up the stem, feeling a sharp prick in his thumb as he did so. His annoyance doubled. Silly woman was the last thought he had for some time.

The Vicarage Bench Series

Vicarage Bench Series If you enjoyed She`s Me, then you will also enjoy the other stories in the Vicarage Bench Series. Imagine having to share your body with an invading time traveller. Dr. Tobias Andrews, guardian of the magic, assists each trapped spirit until every story’s happy ending is assured. In He’s Her, schoolteacher Carrie Temple has to make space for Vegas casino owner Rhett Parks, whose spirit invades her heart as well as her mind, and won’t leave. At first she desperately wants him to get out, but soon she can’t bear for them to be apart. In We’re One, Vegas nightclub star Crystal Davis wants nothing to do with men until she’s seduced by Ashley Parks while they flee from a killer. Ashley traps

her spirit inside of him to keep her safe, but she soon convinces him to trust her, because it’s his safety they need to worry about…not hers. The Together Stories are the newest for the series: In Together Again, Sixteen-years-old and pregnant, Dani’s spirit travels forward in time and invades the body of reporter, Troy Brennan. They fall in love, and in a week he expects to come and stake his claim for his child bride. But for her, it’s a ten-year wait. Which gives her a week to make him fall in love the woman she is now? In Together for Christmas, Abbie Taylor has a thousand things to do before the big day, help the vicar with his needy families, organize the Christmas nativity, and spare time for a distraught baby at the orphanage. Falling into a coma while her spirit resides inside a prickly, big shot businessman doesn’t work for her at all …until she falls in love. InTogether Always, Imagine Grace Joye getting the horrific news that she has a brain tumor and very little time left. What if Dr. Andrews has a beautiful, young patient who’s brain-dead and has no more need for her perfectly good body? And what if you know of a way to invade that body and bring the poor woman back to life? Worse, what if the grieving husband is just a very good actor and is thrilled his wife will soon meet her maker?

Also author of… Many of Mimi’s books can be found FREE on Kindle Unlimited!! ~*~*~*~ The Vicarage Bench Series — Spirit Travel at its Best! — She’s Me (Book 1) He’s Her (Book 2) We’re One (Book 3) Vicarage Bench Anthology (Book 4 – Books 1-3) Together Again (Book 5) Together for Christmas (Book 6) Together Always (Book 7) *** Angels with Attitude Series — Angels Playing Cupid! — The Angels with Attitudes Anthology (Books 1-3) My Cheeky Angel (Book 1) His Devious Angel (Book 2) Loveable Christmas Angel (Book 3) *** Elvis Series — Make an Elvis Song a Book! — She’s Not You (Book 1) Love Me Tender (Book 2) *** Vegas Series — Action–Packed Thrillers! — Vegas Series – Complete Boxed Set

Partners (Book 1) Roll the Dice (Book 2) Vegas Shuffle (Book 3) High Stakes Gamble (Book 4) Spin the Wheel (Book 5) Let it Ride (Book 6) *** Undercover FBI Series — Popular & Compelling! — Special Agent Francesca (Book 1) Special Agent Finnegan (Book 2) Special Agent Maximilian (Book 3) Special Agent Kandice (Book 4) Special Agent Booker (Book 5) Special Agent Charli (Book 6 – to be released Fall 2017) *** Holiday Heartwarmers Trilogy — Truly a Christmas favorite! — Holiday Heartwarmers Series Please Keep Me (Book 1) Snow Pup (Book 2) Find Me a Home (Book 3) Frosty the Snowman (Book 4) Love of my Life (Book 5) *** Mob Tracker Series — She’s unstoppable! — Sweet Retaliation (Book #1) Sweet Justice (Book #2) Sweet Resolution (Book #3 Sweet Endings – (Book #4 – to be released Oct 2017) *** Other Titles

I’m No Angel Hotshot Cowboy Big Girls Don’t Cry Christmas Runaway The Surrogate’s Secret Mimi’s Mix (Box Set) ‘Tis the Season (Box Set) Hearts, Flowers & Romance (Box Set) Red Hot Divas (Box Set) A Touch of Passion (Multi-author Box Set) Love, Christmas (Multi-author Box Set) Unforgettable Romances (Multi-author Box Set) Kiss Me, Thrill Me (Multi-author Box Set) Mystic Lovers (Multi-author Box Set ) Wedding Pets & Kisses (Multi-author Box Set) Hotshot Heartbreakers (Multi-author Box Set) Sweet and Sassy (Multi-author Box Set) Mystic Passion (Multi-author Box Set – on Pre-order) Unforgettable Heroes (Multi-author Box Set – on Preorder) Sweet Heat (Multi-author Box Set – to be released Aug 2017) Hotshot Charmers (Multi-author Box Set – to be released Sept 2017) *** All Mimi’s books can be found on her Amazon Author Page: http://bit.ly/MimiBarbourAmazon OR Website: http://mimibarbour.com

About the author, Mimi Barbour

Mimi is an incredibly busy New York Times, USA Today and award-winning, best-selling author who has five series to her credit: The Vicarage Bench Series – Spirit/Time –Travel – tales with a surprising twist. The Angels with Attitude Series – Angels Love Romance The Elvis Series – Make an Elvis song a book. Vegas Series – 6 books full of romantic suspense, humor and gritty conflicts Undercover FBI Series – Fast-paced, edgy yet humorous romantic suspense, stand-alone stories. Mob Tracker is a new, four-book series she’s working on now. The first book, Sweet Retaliation, will be released in March 2017. She also has numerous box collections and single titles to add to her credits. She lives on the beautiful east coast of Vancouver Island and fills most of her day with writing and promoting her work. The rest of her time is spent in her garden, doing minimal housework and enjoying her husband’s company while he cooks their dinner.

“The favorite part of my job is meeting the characters from each new book. Creating them the way I want and having them act however I think they should. It’s thrilling. Especially when most of my make-believe folks are interesting, witty and in most cases, people I would love to know.”

Contact Me: Write to me, I love hearing from my readers! ~ ~ My website: http://www.mimibarbour.com/ Follow me on Twitter, Amazon, Pinterest Goodreads, BookBub, LinkedIn