Amy Harris
Amy opened her eyes. Jason lay beside her in the dark. His light, even snore not enough to disturb her.
What awakened her?
Did Jim or Kelly have need of her? She listened to the silence, but she was the only wakeful being in the house. With a soft sigh, she closed her eyes and reached out with her mind.
Who stalks my dreams?
Her heart grew heavy, suffused with anguished regret. Sorrow tore at her awareness. Silent tears spent for the lost years, the unfairness of never knowing her mother or her father.
Moved by sympathy, Amy reached out. The moment she touched the grief-stricken soul, she recognized the Entity.
Made aware of her presence, the Entity firmed their connection.
In Amy’s mind, the Entity appeared as a mirror image of herself. “Who are you?” Amy whispered. Her heart pounded hard in her chest.
The Entity mocked her movements. It raised its hand and touched the surface of the mirror as Amy did.
“I am Alyse,” her likeness responded.
Amy lowered her hand and so did the image in the mirror. “Are you... me?” She had never encountered anything like this before. Had her mind splintered when Jones locked her in the wardrobe?
The mirror smiled like her, and at her, and shook its head. “I am not you, and you are not me. We are separate.”
“I heard you weep,” Amy persisted. “Why are you so sad?”
“Is that what drew you? My tears?”
A surge of sorrow filled Amy’s chest. “Alyse?” Amy questioned.
“Yes?”
“Are you—are you in my head?”
The question appeared to catch Alyse by surprise. The tears stopped, and she smiled at Amy. “Actually, I think you are in mine, dear sister.”
“Sister?” Amy questioned. “I have no sisters.”
“I understand.” Loss bound them together as the image nodded. “Nor did I, until you called to me. I felt your fear. You feel my sorrow. We’ve lived a lie, Amy. They lied to protect us.”
Amy studied Alyse. “They?”
“Our mother. Our grandmother.” Alyse replied.
“Grandmother Prescott?” Amy questioned.
“No. Grandmother James—Mémé.” Alyse gestured, and the image of a slender, elderly woman coalesced beside her in the mirror.
“My mother's mother?” Amy searched her memory. “Is that her?”
“Yes. She raised me.” The mirror rippled with pain and loss.
“Are you saying—you’re real?” Stunned, Amy shook her head. “Where are you, if not in my head?”
The figure in the glass looked around, and then turned back at Amy. “I’m on a train. The sun has just risen, and my uncles are asleep. I believe we’re still in New York, but I’m not certain.”
“You’re coming here?”
Am I dreaming?
“You’re not dreaming.” Alyse touched the mirror again. “And yes, we’re coming to find you, Amy. I promised I would, remember? We’ll arrive in Denver on Sunday.”
“I won't be in Denver on Sunday. We’ll be at the ranch by then.”
The mirror rippled again, and panic blurred the image. “Why?” Alyse pressed both hands against the polished surface. “I must find you!”
“You’ll find me.” Amy projected comfort. “Let me show you where I’ll be.” Amy passed all she knew about the route from Denver to The Highlands to Alyse with a thought.
“I see.” Alyse nodded. “Wait for me there, please.”
Jason murmured in Amy's ear and snuggled closer. He ran his hand beneath Amy's nightgown, over her hip and along her waist to her breast. He cupped the soft globe in his hand as his lips caressed the back of her neck.
Amy caught her breath and the reflection shimmered with arousal.
“What is that?” Alyse’s eyelids fluttered closed, and she inhaled sharply.
“My husband is awake. I must go.” Amy explained.
Jason rolled her toward him and ran his hand down her stomach, coming to rest between her legs.
“No, wait!” Alyse urged.
The connection with Alyse broke as Amy’s attention focused on her husband’s touch.
He kissed her neck and ran his fingertips from one eager nipple to the other, then slowly back down her stomach to the dark hair between her legs. He slipped his fingers inside her and stroked her sensitive silkiness. “I love you, Amy.” He kissed down her jaw until he found her lips.
Amy moaned with pleasure and turned toward him, tangling her nightdress. Impatient, she rose to her knees, pulled the disruptive garment over her head and tossed it to the floor. She looked down at Jason. The soft morning light reflected against the blond stubble along his jaw and wild, curly hair.
He smiled and ran his hands up her stomach to lift her breasts. “You were talking in your sleep.”
Amy bent to place her mouth on his chest. She licked and kissed her way to his neck. “I don't talk in my sleep.” Her hand moved down his body and gripped the evidence of his desire as her lips moved up to find his.
Their kiss deepened, and Jason groaned at Amy’s firm touch. Her mouth led his on a chase for several moments, then she lifted her head and studied his eyes. “What did I say?”
Jason chuckled. “You want to talk now?”
“Well, no—”
He rolled her to her back and centered himself above her. “That’s good.”
Amy forgot what she had asked—forgot everything, except Jason.
* * *
Jason read the Rocky Mountain News at the kitchen table while he sipped his tea.
Jimmy Leigh ambled down the stairs and glanced around the kitchen. “It smells good in here.”
Amy smiled over her shoulder and picked up an oven-cloth. “It's just biscuits and jam.” She opened the oven, pulled out a tray of biscuits and placed it on the counter to cool.
“We ought to head back to the ranch today.” Jim took a seat at the table across from Jason.
Jason lowered the paper and raised an eyebrow as his gaze traveled over the tall foreman. “You feel up to it?”
“I’ve been four days without fever. My leg's about as good as it's going to get. It's time to head home.” He looked up at Amy as she set a cup of coffee at his elbow. “Thank you.”
All the repairs, except for the porch, had been completed. Albert Fielding had agreed to supervise the porch construction, scheduled to proceed in several days. Nothing, except Jim’s recovery, kept them in Denver.
Amy put a basket of biscuits in front of the men and added a jar of honey and a jar of grape jam.
“There are ten Shilo-Highlands horses stabled at the livery.” Jim picked up a biscuit. “We only need four to get back, two for the buckboard, and one each, for Kelly and me. Do you want to take the other six with us, or leave them here?”
“Leave them, I suppose,” Jason replied. “Merril borrowed three of theirs. Tom or Kelly can return those next week and bring home the rest of our stock.”
Kelly came downstairs, his hair a wild mess. He ran his hands through a few strands, but it refused to stay down. He sat at the table and Amy set a coffee in front of him. He nodded his thanks and reached for a biscuit.
As the men discussed their return trip, Amy’s thoughts turned to Alyse and their strange communication. Amy had tried to reach out to her again, several times in fact, but never found Alyse.
I know it wasn’t a dream.
She finished her biscuit and brushed her hands on her apron. Unable to sit still, she picked up her gardening gloves and hat and stepped out the back door.
In her garden, she pulled a few weeds, collected dill and mint leaves, and pinched a few marigold heads. Just as she dropped the herbs and flowers into her apron pocket, she noticed two black cats. They sat motionless at the back of the yard and watched her with intense interest. Curious.
Amy pinched a few more flower heads and looked over the rest of the garden. Things were either past their prime or yet to ripen. She rose and turned toward the house, and then paused to look back at the cats.
They still watched her with wide, yellow eyes. One of the cats stepped forward and minced its way through the garden to wind itself around Amy's ankles. After a couple of turns, it stepped back, sat and curled its tail around its paws, and looked up at her.
“You’re a most peculiar pair.” She removed a glove and stroked the animal’s head. The cat arched itself against her hand, and Amy smoothed the soft fur along its back. As she touched the cat, she received a strong visual impression. She saw herself with these cats, curled in front of a fireplace, reading an old book.
They were with Alyse.
She blinked away the vision and looked down at the cat. “Do you belong to Alyse?”
The first cat meowed, and the other cat ran forward to join its twin. They both looked at her.
She knelt beside the cats and ran her hands down each feline. “We are leaving today to return to the ranch.” Alyse glanced around.
Goddess, let no one see me speak to these animals.
Both cats purred as she scratched their ears.
“Alyse said she would be here on Sunday. I can't take you with me. Jason wouldn't know what to think about cats in the wagon.” She laughed as both cats flopped over for belly scratches and batted at each other’s heads.
“You are silly things.” She rubbed their silky bellies one last time, then returned to the house.
Jason looked up as she shut the door. “Can you be ready to leave in two hours?”
“Yes, I can.” She took the marigold heads from her apron and set them on the counter. When she looked out the window, the cats were gone.