Mr. and Mrs. Johnson: I'm not sure if you'll remember me--my name is Sarah Wintuck, I was your daughter Allie's fourth-grade teacher. Having left New Jersey myself several years ago, I never heard about what happened to her until recently. I'm so terribly sorry. My heart goes out to you. I will be visiting Memphis all this week, and would love the opportunity to meet with you.
Allie thought for a moment, then added:
I have some fond memories of your daughter that I know she would have wanted me to share with you.
Sincerely,
Sarah Wintuck
Now there was nothing to do but wait.
Within five minutes the mailer-daemon sent back her father's e-mail as "undeliverable" and "nonexistent."
Allie's heart sank in the old woman's chest as she stared numbly at the screen. It was her mother who had relatives in Memphis. Could it be that her father died in the crash? She tried to dismiss the notion and see the glass as half-full. Her mother's e-mail was not bounced back. That was a positive sign.
She waited for a response from her mother, filling her time by tending to all those mewling cats who kept jumping up on the table, competing for her attention. By six o'clock no response had come, and Allie knew she couldn't stay much longer. She lay down on the bed, peeled out of the woman, and the shock of it jarred the woman awake. The cat woman bolted up in bed, then once more chastised herself for sleeping the day away, and checked all the locks again.
* * * The next day when the cat woman lay down for her nap, she set her alarm clock for one hour. It did no good, because the moment Allie skinjacked her, she turned the alarm off.
There was a single e-mail waiting for [email protected] /* */ .
Allie felt the woman's body become lightheaded in nervous anticipation. She took slow, deep breaths, waited until the wave of dizziness passed, then Allie opened the e-mail.
Mrs. Wintuck: Thank you for your note. It would be wonderful to catch up with you. Anytime after five, any day this week would be fine. Perhaps you could come over for dinner. The address is 42 Springdale Street--let me know if you need directions, and when you'd like to stop by.
Sincerely,
Andrea Johnson
Allie pushed away from the computer so quickly, she nearly fell over backward in the chair. A cat jumped up on the laptop, opening several random windows. It must have hit the reply button as well, because the top window was an empty reply, just waiting for Allie to fill in the words.
Allie told her mother she would be there at six thirty tonight.
Then she went out to buy hair color and a curling iron.
Chapter 26 Home
The house did not look like a home her family should live in--but then, no home that didn't include Allie would seem right. As she approached the front door, she double-checked her dowdy clothes, and her newly styled hair--now auburn instead of the salt-and-pepper it had been. If she didn't know better, she really would think she was her fourth-grade teacher.
She stood at the front door for what felt like forever, reaching for the doorbell, then pulling her finger back, reaching, then pulling back, until finally she pulled back a little too late, and succeeded in ringing the bell anyway.
Footsteps from inside. The door opening. A familiar face. A little careworn, a little tired, but Allie still knew that face. After three years Allie was standing in front of her mother.
"Mrs. Wintuck, I'm glad you could make it."
Allie had to keep from hurling herself into her mother's arms. She had to remember she had a role to play. She was Allie pretending to be a cat woman pretending to be a teacher from New Jersey. "Please, call me Sarah," Allie said, and stepped into the house. The foyer opened right into the living room. All their old furniture was there, with a few new additions.
"Make yourself comfortable," her mother said. "Would you like something to drink?"
"Some water would be nice."
Her mother went off to get some water, and Allie went to work looking around the room, searching for any sign that her father was still part of this picture, but there was so much to take in, she didn't even know what she should be looking for. He was in photographs, but then so was she. A high school graduation picture sat on the mantel. It hadn't even occurred to Allie that her sister, April, would now be away at college. While time had stopped for Allie, everyone else's lives had moved on.
"I've ordered Chinese food," her mother said, coming back from the kitchen with some bottled water. "I hope you don't mind; I didn't get home from work in time to cook."
"That's perfectly all right, I'm just glad to be here."
"We're glad to have you."
We! Her mother said we! "So ... your husband ..."
"He's picking up the food on the way home. He should be here soon."
Allie practically collapsed into the sofa, full of sweet relief. So he had survived! If nothing else came from this meeting, at least she would have that! But then--what if it was a new husband? What if her mother had remarried? A sister in college, a new house--a lot can happen in three years. She had to know.
"Was he ... badly injured in the accident? I hope not." Allie clenched her toes, preparing for the worst of all possible news. Then her mother said.
"It was a difficult rehabilitation, but he pulled through."
Allie released her breath, not even realizing she had been holding it. She felt her face flush with relief. Her mother took it for thirst, and sat across from her, pouring the bottled water into a glass for her. As Allie reached for the glass, she saw that her hand--the cat woman's hand--was trembling, so Allie took the glass with her other hand instead.