Nothing.
She turned to her sister and concentrated on remembering the color of her eyes—blue. The shape of her face—oval. Her nose—pointy. Her Mickey Mouse T-shirt was faded, and the seams had holes in them. Her hair was done in two messy ponytails, one on top of her head, the other hanging low by her neck.
The expression on her sister’s face was mournful. She was afraid and—
New visions invaded her mind, so overwhelming all she could do was watch. Kate’s breath was taken away, her heart pounding.
Kate was older now, probably eighteen. In black clothes, Kate opened the door to her and Mandy’s shared bedroom.
“Mandy, do you want some cookies?” Kate said to a shape lying under the blankets on Mandy’s bed.
Silence.
Kate came in and sat at the edge of her sister’s bed and put her hand on the girl’s back.
“Maybe a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?” she asked.
Nothing.
“Honey, are you sick?”
No response.
“The funeral was sweet. Mom’s colleagues came. Her boss from the supermarket paid for the cremation.”
“She would have wanted me there,” Mandy’s muffled voice came from under the blanket.
“Yes, but she’d understand you aren’t feeling well. Are you still tired?”
“Leave me alone.”
“It’s been three days, Mandy. Something’s wrong.”
“You’re not leaving me alone. That’s what.”
“I’m just worried.”
Mandy turned and peeked out from beneath the blanket.
“I don’t think we’ll ever get better now that Mom’s gone. We don’t have anyone now.”
“We have each other.” Kate patted her hand. “I’ll drop out of high school and start working. Don’t worry. I got you.”
Mandy hid her face in her palms and turned back to the wall.
“Now you’re ruining your life for me. I just can’t… I can’t live like this.”
A cold wave went through Kate. “Honey, you’re not talking about—”
She couldn’t say the words. Losing Mom to cancer was bad enough. Was her sister suicidal?
Mandy didn’t answer.
“Talk to me, please,” Kate whispered, desperation creeping through her in a dark cloud.
But Mandy didn’t respond.
By the end of the week, Kate had found a job as a dishwasher and another as a waitress. Unlike Mom, she’d dragged Mandy to see the local doctor, who’d said this sounded like depression and recommended a psychiatrist. The shrink had confirmed the diagnosis. Kate had found a third job as a waitress in another town, where a few years later she’d be promoted to a line cook’s position. All her earnings went to keeping the roof over their heads and paying Mandy’s medical bills. Soon, Kate knew exactly how Mom had felt.
Back in Dundail’s attic, Kate swallowed tears staring at the dark wood of the ceiling. Her mom had died, after a life of hard work, which she’d done to support Kate and Mandy. Kate was a high school dropout. Neither she nor Mandy had been vaccinated when they were children because Mom hadn’t had time to take them to the doctor. Kate had paid for herself and Mandy to be vaccinated when they were already grown-ups, she remembered.
And then, it was as though a dam had broken, and all the memories flooded through at once, choking her. They came from all ages in no order.
She and Mandy had moved out of their rental house and started a restaurant, Deli Luck.
At the age of sixteen, Mandy got knocked up and had Jax, becoming a single mother, just like their own mom.
Mandy had applied to be featured in Logan Robertson’s Sweet Burn TV show, where he refurbished restaurants that didn’t do well.
What bothered Kate the most about all these visions was the difference of the worlds. She knew she spoke a different language in these memories, English. She knew there were mobile phones, antidepressants that helped her sister stay afloat, and cars and airplanes. She knew that because she remembered driving, and then flying to Scotland.
But what had happened in Scotland, she had no idea.
Mice scratched in the walls of the garret. An owl hooted outside. It was quiet at night in her Cape Haute apartment, despite them living on Main Street, where all shops were. Her window was at the back of the building, overlooking the alley.
Sometimes, she heard Mandy cry at night from the other side of the wall. She sobbed into her pillow so that she wouldn’t wake up Jax. Every time, Kate knew what this meant. Mandy wouldn’t get out of bed for a week, Kate would need to book an emergency session with Dr. Lambert, and hire a temp to take care of the restaurant. All that meant more costs. During those days, she also needed to be Mom to Jax.
Her heart weighed heavily for leaving them, for not being there to help. She knew from those memories that her life was dedicated to providing for them, to caring for Jax, to giving him a better future than Kate and Mandy could ever have.
But where was that world with cars and airplanes and stainless-steel kitchens?
The most disturbing thing of all was that the checks in the restaurant were dated with the year 2020. So was the plane ticket she’d held in her hand when she was in the airport.
The small window let in the pink light of sunrise. Kate managed to convince herself the visions weren’t memories. They must be her imagination, no matter how real everything felt.
But the bottle, she thought. The bottle and the plastic wrapping in her purse. And the money in the wallet. And the credit card…
There must be another explanation for them.
If it was all her imagination, the verdict was clear. She was insane. She must be schizophrenic or something. Delusional.
And a burden.
Ian had just hired himself a crazy cook who thought she might be from the future.
And she was falling for him. Far too attached to him. She’d leave one day in any case, but the longer she stayed, the harder it would be to do so. The kindest thing would be to relieve him of her troubles. He was already tortured and clearly wanted to be free. She couldn’t bear to make
