then he could get to Dolores and Grace. His blood rushed with the urgency of the situation.
So, he went, but kept an eye on the clock. The woman met her lover at a hotel on the edge of town. Zach snapped the shots the husband wanted, but before he knew it Dolores was on her way to the hospital with a gunshot wound, her house on fire.
And when he arrived at the hospital, Grace was in the next room. She’d been in the fire, too. He dashed through the curtain separating her hospital bed from the hall.
“Zach,” she croaked out. His gaze raced up and down her. Grace was alive, though smudged and battered. His heart leapt with relief.
He took her hand, but looked for signs of distress from the action. She didn’t pull away.
Grace’s gaze took him in. “I’m sorry. I didn’t save her.”
He blinked. Didn’t save who? “Dolores is dead?”
She nodded, her face pale, her neck bruised.
His hands found her other then squeezed both of them. He sat on the edge of the bed. “What happened?”
“He came up behind me. I never heard him.”
“So she got shot anyway,” he said.
Her crestfallen face made him wish he hadn’t been so blunt. He took a deep breath and pushed what grief he had over Dolores to the back of his mind. He needed to concentrate on the living for once.
“I guess you couldn’t change what was supposed to happen. Maybe you weren’t supposed to change it.”
His words sounded odd to his ears, but he knew Grace believed in what she said. She had a gift in her own mind. Even if he didn’t understand, he wanted to.
“You don’t understand. She wasn’t supposed to die. That’s why she talked to me. I’ll go see her again.”
Coughs rocked her and Zach poured water into a glass. He handed the liquid to her. She drank, then handed it back to him.
“What are you doing?” he asked when she swung her legs to the side of the bed. She looked too pale to stand.
“Going to see Dolores before they take her away.”
“This is nuts, Grace. I don’t know how you know she was going to be killed, but seeing her isn’t going to change anything.”
“Zach, go home. You didn’t believe me then. Why would you believe me now?”
“Because this time I want to.”
She paused, her gaze searching and probing him. She stood, looking wobbly. “Go. She won’t talk to me when you’re there.”
“If you go back in time,” he started, not believing his question. “Will I remember you?”
“No.”
Desperation fueled his next move. For the first time since Dolores, he wanted to trust someone. So he strode around the bed to Grace, took a gentle hold of her head, and kissed her hard so she would understand that he felt something for her.
Then he left before she could say anything.
***
Zach’s kiss, and her body’s subsequent reaction to it, had Grace sitting back down on the bed.
If his touch had caused a kaleidoscope of colors, his kiss created a storm. Both inside and outside. Her body thrummed with the anticipation of love the kiss showed her and the future she’d have. She’d be thirty tomorrow and her gift would probably be gone. She just had to climb back in bed.
She’d have Zach and no dead people talking to her.
“Damn.”
“What are you doing out of bed?” A brisk efficient nurse whisked into her room. “You need to rest.”
Her resolve strengthened, she said, “I want to see her.”
The nurse cocked her head and her face took on a pinched expression. “Okay. Let me get a wheelchair, then.”
So Grace waited, thankful that she hadn’t had to convince anyone that she should see her landlord. Everyone understood.
The nurse came back then wheeled Grace to Dolores’ bedside, leaving her alone with the dead woman.
“Dolores?”
Her dead landlord opened her eyes. “Help me.”
***
Having rewound back in time again, Grace wondered what it meant that she met Zach earlier this time. He’d been at Dolores’ place when she went to rent the place. She sighed. At least she
So, he went, but kept an eye on the clock. The woman met her lover at a hotel on the edge of town. Zach snapped the shots the husband wanted, but before he knew it Dolores was on her way to the hospital with a gunshot wound, her house on fire.
And when he arrived at the hospital, Grace was in the next room. She’d been in the fire, too. He dashed through the curtain separating her hospital bed from the hall.
“Zach,” she croaked out. His gaze raced up and down her. Grace was alive, though smudged and battered. His heart leapt with relief.
He took her hand, but looked for signs of distress from the action. She didn’t pull away.
Grace’s gaze took him in. “I’m sorry. I didn’t save her.”
He blinked. Didn’t save who? “Dolores is dead?”
She nodded, her face pale, her neck bruised.
His hands found her other then squeezed both of them. He sat on the edge of the bed. “What happened?”
“He came up behind me. I never heard him.”
“So she got shot anyway,” he said.
Her crestfallen face made him wish he hadn’t been so blunt. He took a deep breath and pushed what grief he had over Dolores to the back of his mind. He needed to concentrate on the living for once.
“I guess you couldn’t change what was supposed to happen. Maybe you weren’t supposed to change it.”
His words sounded odd to his ears, but he knew Grace believed in what she said. She had a gift in her own mind. Even if he didn’t understand, he wanted to.
“You don’t understand. She wasn’t supposed to die. That’s why she talked to me. I’ll go see her again.”
Coughs rocked her and Zach poured water into a glass. He handed the liquid to her. She drank, then handed it back to him.
“What are you doing?” he asked when she swung her legs to the side of the bed. She looked too pale to stand.
“Going to see Dolores before they take her away.”
“This is nuts, Grace. I don’t know how you know she was going to be killed, but seeing her isn’t going to change anything.”
“Zach, go home. You didn’t believe me then. Why would you believe me now?”
“Because this time I want to.”
She paused, her gaze searching and probing him. She stood, looking wobbly. “Go. She won’t talk to me when you’re there.”
“If you go back in time,” he started, not believing his question. “Will I remember you?”
“No.”
Desperation fueled his next move. For the first time since Dolores, he wanted to trust someone. So he strode around the bed to Grace, took a gentle hold of her head, and kissed her hard so she would understand that he felt something for her.
Then he left before she could say anything.
***
Zach’s kiss, and her body’s subsequent reaction to it, had Grace sitting back down on the bed.
If his touch had caused a kaleidoscope of colors, his kiss created a storm. Both inside and outside. Her body thrummed with the anticipation of love the kiss showed her and the future she’d have. She’d be thirty tomorrow and her gift would probably be gone. She just had to climb back in bed.
She’d have Zach and no dead people talking to her.
“Damn.”
“What are you doing out of bed?” A brisk efficient nurse whisked into her room. “You need to rest.”
Her resolve strengthened, she said, “I want to see her.”
The nurse cocked her head and her face took on a pinched expression. “Okay. Let me get a wheelchair, then.”
So Grace waited, thankful that she hadn’t had to convince anyone that she should see her landlord. Everyone understood.
The nurse came back then wheeled Grace to Dolores’ bedside, leaving her alone with the dead woman.
“Dolores?”
Her dead landlord opened her eyes. “Help me.”
***
Having rewound back in time again, Grace wondered what it meant that she met Zach earlier this time. He’d been at Dolores’ place when she went to rent the place. She sighed. At least she
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