A Circle of Time Read online

  From the few moments she’d spent in the woman’s presence, Allison believed her. She felt secure that this woman, whoever she was, was someone to be trusted. But could she be trusted with Allison’s secret? What would Teresa Cardona Pomales think if Allison confessed that she wasn’t really Becky but a girl from the future imprisoned in Becky Lee Thompson’s body?

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the loud bang of the heavy double door bursting open. Through the door strode a tall man with a wild mop of white hair. “Tere, where have you been?”

  The man spoke Spanish, but Allison had studied the language in school, and as long as the person spoke clearly and deliberately, she could make out what was said. And this man spoke very deliberately.

  “Don Gutiérrez and I have been waiting at least half an hour—finally he had to go. He brought the young mare and”—the man lowered his voice—“he was anxious to meet you.”

  The man’s hair reminded Allison of a picture she’d seen of Albert Einstein—pure white and flying straight out on the sides. Despite the white hair, the man had the rugged features and physique of a younger man. His presence dominated the large room, seeming to shrink it to half its size.

  Teresa did not appear impressed. She shook her long curls and gave an annoyed sigh. “Papá,” she replied in Spanish, “I have no interest in Don Gutiérrez or any of your other friends. Gracias, but I’ll choose my own husband—that is, if I decide to marry.”

  “Tere, you are a most willful child. In my day, a young woman married the man her papá chose, and was happy about it. I don’t understand why I have been cursed with such stubborn daughters.”

  Teresa rose on tiptoes and kissed her father’s nose. “Because, Papá, you are a most stubborn man.”

  The scowl on the man’s face disappeared, but his deep-blue eyes held their fiery sparkle. “If I did not love you so much, Teresita, I would have written you out of my will long ago.” Then his gaze met Allison’s, and the scowl returned. His eyes narrowed, turning a cold steel blue. “What is she doing here?”

  “Becky Lee brought by the new dress she made me.” Teresa twirled to show it off. “You like it?”

  “Sí, sí, but if she’s done, send her on her way.” The man lowered his voice, but Allison could still hear him. “Know your place, Teresa. You know how I feel about your keeping company with servants.”

  “She is not a servant, Papa,” Teresa whispered harshly. “And I keep company with whomever I please. You will not do to me what you did to Isa.”

  The man flinched as though he had been slapped.

  Instantly, Teresa’s face softened. “I’m sorry, Papa. I do not mean to hurt you. But, please, please allow me to make my own decisions. I have a brain, and I have a heart. The two do not work independently, no matter what you mandate.”

  The man gave his daughter a sad smile and kissed her forehead, holding her close for a few seconds. Then he turned and strode from the room.

  Allison stood at the entrance to the Cardona Pomales estate wondering what to do next. Before her and to her left and right lay acres and acres of grapevines. Behind her was the hacienda-style mansion she’d just left. Apparently, the Cardona Pomales family had made its fortune in vineyards.

  She didn’t want to go back to the Thompson cabin. That Thompson woman was horrid and abusive. She didn’t know how to get to the cabin, anyway.

  She also had no idea where the nearest town was. Even if she knew, what could she do in a town with no money? Maybe she could camp out in the woods. She loved camping. She was planning to be a forest ranger, wasn’t she? But although she’d taken survival training last summer, she’d never really been on her own. How long could she last without food and shelter?

  What year was it, anyway? It might help if she at least knew the year. She hadn’t spotted any calendars at the estate, but she did notice electric lights, though no televisions or telephones were in view. When was electricity discovered? Allison vaguely remembered the discovery being in the late 1800s. So this would place her in the late 1800s or the early 1900s. From what Allison had seen of Teresa’s clothes, it could be either.

  Frustrated, Allison began to walk down the dirt road toward some trees in the distance. As she walked, she couldn’t help wondering where Becky had headed after leaving the estate that day. Was Allison supposed to go there? Becky was making Allison relive her past to help her. Help her do what? Did helping her mean Allison had to do everything Becky did, exactly? How could Allison help Becky when she didn’t share Becky’s memories and had no way of contacting the girl while she was stuck in her body?

  Allison made up her mind. As long as she didn’t know what she was supposed to do for Becky, she’d try to survive by making her own choices, regardless of whether they were the choices Becky would have made. But a thought crossed Allison’s mind that made her shudder. If she didn’t figure out what Becky needed and helped her get it, Allison might never return to her own life in the future.

  Chapter 6

  Allison found it odd how quickly she had adjusted to another person’s body. It was as easy as getting used to a new set of clothes. Only two things had felt a bit strange. The first was Becky’s height. Allison was almost five feet, six inches tall; Becky seemed to be at least six inches shorter. Six inches made quite a difference on your perspective of the world, especially an unfamiliar world such as this one.

  The other difference was that Allison was righthanded. She had a very strong feeling that Becky was a lefty. Allison kept wanting to step out with her right foot, but her left seemed to be fighting her. And her right arm seemed awkward, clumsy.

  After half an hour of walking down the dirt road, she forgot she was not in her own body. She was only aware of the unfamiliar surroundings.

  The day was horribly hot. By the time Allison reached the edge of the forest, her right arm and shoulder were throbbing, and she was sweaty and thirsty. Now what? she thought. Maybe she should turn off her mind and let her legs lead the way. If only that were possible.

  Allison stayed on the dirt road, searching for something—anything—that might feel or appear familiar. Soon she came to a well-worn path that led into the woods. She stared at the spot where the path disappeared under the trees. Exhaling slowly, she stepped onto the path and followed it into the forest.

  The temperature seemed to drop at least ten degrees in the heavy shade of the dense woods. Allison filled her lungs with the fresh, cool air. She loved the moist, earthy smell of woods. Funny how time seemed to stand still in a forest. Out there, where civilization flourished, the year could be 1620 or 2060, but you’d never know by looking at areas untouched by humans.

  She followed the path until she came to a fork. The path to her left was well-worn like the path she was on. The path to her right was less traveled. Something made her want to stay on a less-traveled path. She turned right and continued.

  Allison followed the quickly disappearing path until, at last, it vanished into the brush and ferns. Well, so much for the road less traveled. She wanted to venture farther, but she didn’t want to risk getting lost. Allison thought back to her survival training: Mark the route you follow.

  Perhaps she could use a sharp stone to mark an X in tree trunks. With her bare foot, she pushed aside clumps of brush, searching for sharp stones. Something cold slithered over her foot.

  She jumped and bit her lip to stifle a scream that was halfway out her throat. A thin garter snake darted away from her and disappeared under a thick clump of ferns. Allison shuddered. Maybe walking through the forest wasn’t such a good idea, especially barefooted.

  As she was about to return to the main road, something seemed to pull her like a magnet toward the heart of the forest. “Okay, okay,” she muttered, “I’ll keep going ... for a little while, anyway.”

  Before she moved on, she found a couple of angular rocks to mark the trees, and a fallen branch that would make a good walking stick. Allison used the stick to push aside tall grasses and warn anything l
iving under them to scamper or slither away from her approaching bare feet. She made slow but steady progress, looking back on occasion to check her marks.

  Once more, the thought crossed her mind that this was a crazy thing to do. What was she accomplishing? How could she possibly live in a forest without even a knife? Another problem was her clothing. How cold did it get in these woods at night? And how could she survive without a jacket or coat? No, this was definitely crazy.

  Allison was about to turn back for the second time, when she heard it: running water. The sound was coming from the direction she was facing. She hurried on.

  The farther she went, the louder became the sound of rushing water. The ground felt softer and more moist, and the vegetation seemed greener, more lush. A strong breeze rustled the leaves and tickled her hair.

  A green path of velvety moss led her to the edge of a shallow creek. Smooth rocks in the stream piled like steps over which miniature waterfalls tumbled, carrying swirling bits of grass, leaves, and twigs. The water was so clear that Allison could make out every pebble and grain of sand that carpeted the creek’s bottom.

  With a tiny squeak of pleasure, Allison stepped onto the squishy ground that banked the creek. It was an easy step from the bank to the water.

  She dipped a toe into the water and jerked back, shocked by the sudden iciness. It was almost as cold as freshly melted snow. Delighted, Allison stuck her whole foot into the water until she felt bottom, held her breath, and eased in the other foot. Soon her legs were numb up to the waterline, which only reached midcalf. She cupped her hands in the water and sipped the fresh, icy liquid, quenching her thirst.

  Noticing that the hem of her dress was getting wet, she wrung it out, twisted it into a knot in front of her, and tucked it under her waistband. That left her long, drooping bloomers dipping into the creek. Annoyed with her impractical attire, Allison yanked up the legs of the bloomers to the tops of her thighs and retied the frayed blue ribbon.

  The magnetic pull she had felt earlier seemed to tug her up the creek. She balanced on smooth rocks and stones that formed natural steps up the miniature rapids. Although small, the swirling rapids were forceful, and Allison had to be careful not to lose her balance. Whenever possible, she walked on the more solid sandy bottom, dragging her feet in the sand and pebbles, enjoying the sensation.

  The sun was still high in the sky, which meant it was around noon or early afternoon. If she didn’t stumble on to something soon, she’d go back to the Cardona Pomales estate and beg Teresa for help.

  The stream meandered through the forest. Sometimes it narrowed under a long canopy of overhanging, interlocking branches, other times it widened, pushing the trees apart and revealing the robin’s-egg blue sky and brilliant sunshine. Soon the creek widened and dead-ended a few hundred yards ahead. Tall pines clustered on the edges of the widened stream and provided deep shade. A huge rock formation stood at the end, over which a tall, thin waterfall cascaded to the pool below. The spot looked appealing.

  Allison quickened her pace, eager to rest at the foot of the waterfall. As she drew nearer, the crash of water plunging to the pool and rocks below filled her ears. It surprised her how thunderous falling water could sound. Reminded of thunder, her mind drifted back to the hospital room and to Becky. What did the girl want of her, and how long would it take to find out?

  Pushing away her thoughts, she found she had reached the pool’s edge. The pool formed an almost perfect circle, with the waterfall on one end and the creek at the opposite end. Huge boulders, spaced around the pool and bordered by lush ferns, formed natural resting spots on which to sit and dip one’s feet.

  And that was precisely what someone was doing. On one smooth, flat boulder at the edge of the water sat a boy staring straight ahead while his feet and fishing line dangled in the water. He apparently had not noticed Allison approaching.

  Could it be? Allison squinted and moved in closer to get a better look. It was!

  Allison was so surprised to see another human being in this wilderness, and someone she knew, no less, that she spoke without thinking:

  “Joshua?”

  Chapter 7

  Joshua didn’t move. Allison realized he couldn’t hear her over the sound of the crashing waterfall. She stood in the middle of the stream, gentle swirls of cold water spinning around her legs, and stared at the boy. Slowly, as though mesmerized, he lifted his head and turned toward her. When their eyes met, his face lit up like a sunrise. Allison couldn’t help but smile back.

  They remained as still as the trees surrounding them, smiling and staring into each other’s eyes across the width of the pool. A feeling of warmth and deep tranquillity spread through her: a sense of being at home despite a strange and distant time and place, as if the eyes of this boy were the eyes of an old friend, someone she’d known forever. But all at once, Allison realized she was staring at him ... and he at her ... and she began to feel selfconscious.

  Why am I feeling this way about a boy I’ve only met once? she wondered.

  At the same moment, Joshua’s gaze left her face and traveled down to her exposed legs. He quickly looked away, seemingly embarrassed, and began fussing with his fishing pole.

  Allison looked down. The skirt of the faded calico dress was twisted into a knot and tucked under the waistband, fully exposing the bloomers that were rolled up to the tops of her thighs.

  Oops! she thought. This wouldn’t look too great in my own time—what must it look like in 18-whatever? Bloomers are underwear, for goodness sakes. I’m showing my underwear to a boy I’ve just met!

  The self-consciousness was replaced by giggles. Allison was used to showing a lot of her legs—in miniskirts, shorts, bikinis. And although she wasn’t used to being seen in her underwear, bloomers were so baggy, they didn’t feel like underwear. The image of standing, exposed from the top of her bloomers down, in front of a boy who had probably never seen a woman’s knee, was hilarious. No wonder he turned away.

  The more Allison giggled, the more flustered Joshua seemed to get. Suddenly, Allison lost her balance and splashed backward into the creek.

  “Oh!” she cried, sitting on the sandy bottom, legs sprawled before her as twigs and leaves swirled by. “I’m drenched!”

  In a flash, Joshua was behind her, yanking her up by the armpits. “You all right, Becky?” he said, turning her to look at him.

  “Do I look all right? I’m soaking, and I’ve nothing to change into.”

  Allison squeezed her dripping braids and looked up at Joshua. There was that annoying impish grin, spreading from ear to ear. His eyes danced as though he wanted to burst out laughing. Then he did.

  “It’s not funny!” Allison shoved him away and began wading for shore. Her skirt had come loose and was dragging in the water, making it hard to walk. In a huff, she grabbed the long skirt and yanked it up, high out of the water. “Cover your eyes, or you might see something you don’t want to.”

  Joshua roared. Allison could hear him splashing behind her as he tried to follow. “C’mon, Becky, don’t be mad. It’s just that—”

  “That what?” Allison spun around, her eyes flashing like fireworks. “I look like a wet hen or a drowned rat?”

  “Oh, no, ma’am!” Joshua swallowed a smile, but his eyes were still laughing. “State you’re in, I wouldn’t dare say anything like that.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothin’, Becky, really.” Joshua stared at Allison’s face for a second. “You really are riled up, aren’t you?”

  Allison’s eyes narrowed. “One more comment about my state of mind, and I’ll—I’ll—”

  Joshua tilted back his head and howled.

  “I warned you!” Allison thrust her hands against the boy’s chest, propelling him backward into the stream. Arms and legs splashed and slapped the water.

  “Oww!” He sat up and shook his head like a bushy dog trying to dry off. “No fair! I didn’t push you in.”

  Allison g
rinned at the sight. “Maybe not physically, but if you hadn’t made me laugh...”

  “I made you laugh?” Then Joshua got a look on his face that told Allison he knew just why she’d laughed. He tried to stand up, but the current pushed him back down. “C’mon, Becky Lee. Give me a hand.”

  “Okay, fair’s fair. You helped me up.” Still conscious of her bruised arm, Allison offered Joshua her left hand.

  The boy grabbed her hand and pulled her down beside him into the cold, clear water.

  “Ohh! I’ll get you for this!” But Allison was giggling again, her anger washed away by the current.

  She sat up on her knees and splashed Joshua. He splashed her back. For the next ten minutes, they sat in waist-high, ice-cold water splashing each other like a couple of toddlers in a wading pool.

  Shivering and laughing, they helped each other up and threw themselves, panting, onto the bank of the creek. The sun was warm, but not enough to melt the chill from their bones or to dry their clothes.

  Joshua sat up. “Help me make a fire, Becky. We’ll never dry off this way.”

  Allison pushed herself up onto her elbows. “You’ve got something to start a fire with?”

  Joshua gave her a strange look. “Course I do. You know that.” He shook his head. “You get some wood. I’ll fix up the rocks.”

  Still shivering, Allison poked around under the trees, gathering an armful of dry branches, then deposited the wood next to Joshua. He had already started a small smoldering fire, near the spot where he had been fishing, and was adding bits of dry leaves and pine needles. Beside him sat a basket of fish.

  “Fish!” Allison collapsed next to him. “I’m starving!”

  “Figured we’d kill two birds with one stone—eat and get warm and dry.”

  Allison looked around uncomfortably. Seeming to sense something, Joshua asked, “Something wrong?”