Woke Up Dead Page 2

  Something else was missing. Her wheelchair. Before she could ask Sam about it, he said, “I think we’ve got some antiseptic in the office.” A shadow darkened his eyes. “Jennie insisted we have a first aid kit.” His voice had gone softer at those words, and he got up and went into the office.

  Why was he using her name in the third person? She turned around to look for her chair. Without it, she felt as though a part of her was missing. Strange how she remembered falling backward down those stairs. Unless someone carried her up them and left her in front of Sam’s door. No, that didn’t make any sense. Neither did Sam’s strange behavior. Maybe he was spooked by her coming back from the dead.

  She noticed the rubber mat in front of their door. When had he put that there? She was sure there had been no mat when her wheel had slipped in the puddle.

  She leaned toward her big toe to scratch an itch—and stopped. Her eyes widened. Her toe had an itch. Her paralyzed toe. A cold chill washed over her. She was sure it was all in her injured head. It had been a long time since she’d sent a message to her feet. She closed her eyes and concentrated. Her toe moved. Her eyes popped open. Then she saw her toe move. She couldn’t believe it.

  “I found some hydrogen—what’s wrong?” Sam’s voice intruded in her reverie.

  Her voice was squeaky with her disbelief. “Sam, look! I can move my toe.” Then another amazing thing happened. She moved her leg.

  He didn’t look quite as thunderstruck as she did, but he did have a measure of disbelief. He crouched down beside her. “I always knew you were on the edge, but I think that bump on your head pushed you over. Are you sure you’re all right?”

  She gave him a tremulous smile. “I might be better than all right.”

  He just looked at her for a moment. “What were you doing here, anyway?”

  Her mouth dropped open at that one. “Sam. I was getting copies and coffee at Shep’s, remember?”

  His face paled then darkened with a shadow of agony. “Why the hell would you say something like that?”

  He turned and walked back inside their office. What had she said? What was going on here? She could hear him on the phone a moment later. “Yes, we need an ambulance… “

  Where was the man who had held her tenderly? Maybe she’d dreamed the whole thing. She lifted the piece of cloth from her head. Well, most of it. The bleeding seemed to have stopped. She reached for the bottle of peroxide Sam had left on the floor and poured some onto the cloth, then pressed it back to her forehead. She didn’t want an ambulance; she wanted Sam to tell her why he was acting so strange.

  What she needed was to find her chair. She grasped onto the railing behind her and pulled herself upward. Where could it be? It couldn’t have just disappeared. After being virtually attached to it for twelve years, it seemed strange to be without it. That black, molded chair, or variations of it, was never out of her sight.

  Her upper arms weren’t as strong as they usually were. She struggled to hold herself upright, balancing herself while catching her breath. The sound of the elevator’s doors sliding open brought her attention to Shep. Skinny, with gray hair and beard, he looked a bit like a goat, though Jennie had come to like him an awful lot over the years. He owned a small office supply store downstairs.

  Shep’s bushy eyebrows narrowed when he saw her awkward position. “Ah, see you found Sam’s all right.” He glanced at the open door, then back at her. “Hope everything’s okay. When you came running in my office looking for him, I thought you were in trouble or something. Are you all right, ma’am? You look shaky.”

  Her mouth dropped open. Shep didn’t seem to recognize her. That warm sparkle didn’t light his eyes, and he didn’t call her by her nickname, Speed Racer. One of his words stuck in her brain. “Did you say I ran into your office?”

  “Sure, don’t you remember?” He shook his head then glanced at the stairway as if it had a life of its own. “Gave me the willies when you took the stairs three at a time. Didn’t you hear me yell to be careful? What with the accident last month, none of us around here hardly uses them at all.” Shep’s face darkened with a palpable sadness, like the pallor on Sam’s face.

  Her mind couldn’t sort the facts fast enough. She had bounded up the steps, three at a time. Maybe everybody was losing their mind, asbestos in the building or something. Her mind locked on the last bit.

  “What accident?” Her fingers and arms trembled with the weight of holding herself up. Where was the upper body strength she had worked on all these years?

  Shep glanced in the open doorway again, then back. “Sam’s assistant, Jennie. Speed Racer, I used to call her.” His smile was filled with melancholy. “She was a real sweetie, nicest person you could ever know. Someone spilled some lubricant on the landing there, right in front of the office door. Still haven’t figured out who done it, but I think it was one of the elevator service guys. Anyway, her wheelchair caught that spill just right—or wrong, you could say.”

  Jennie noticed Sam in her peripheral vision but kept her eyes on Shep. Her throat tightened, nearly cutting off her air. “What happened to her?” she whispered. He’s talking about me.

  “She fell down backwards, hit her head. Poor thing, only twenty-six years old, and her life is over.” His shook his head, lower lip pushed out.

  Jennie wanted to hug him, to tell him she hadn’t died. Instead, she fell to the floor amid a blizzard of black dots. No, they actually looked more like wiggly worms, all squirming this way and that. She was getting dizzier watching them.

  “I’ve got her,” Sam was saying as his arms went around her waist just before she hit the floor. “Shep, get her a glass of water, quick.” He set her down on the floor gently, leaning her back against the railing she was blindly grasping for.

  She was a real sweetie…poor thing…her life is over. The words floated through Jennie’s mind, bits and pieces that refused to make sense to her. She had gotten a second chance, that’s what the voice had told her. And she was there. But Shep said Jennie was dead. Neither he nor Sam seemed to know who she really was.

  She thought of the wool pants she didn’t recognize, the long black coat. Not her pants or her coat. Shep had seen her bound up the stairs. Not her legs. She opened her eyes, wiggly worms be damned, and glanced downward at the hands flattened against the floor to keep her upright. Long painted nails, strange rings on her fingers. Then further out at the legs sprawled awkwardly.

  Holy angels in Heaven—she’d gotten a second chance in someone else’s body. A body that was whole, a body that could walk, run…dance!

  Sam was trying to drape a wet, cold paper towel over her forehead when her head lurched upward.

  “Get me a mirror.” Her voice gave way at the last word.

  His forehead crinkled. “Maybe you shouldn’t look. It’s kinda nasty. The ambulance should be here anytime, so just calm down.”

  “My face is kind of nasty?” Was she some monster?

  Sam shook his head, a slight smile on his face. “No, the cut.”

  “Get me a mirror, or I’ll get one myself.”

  He raised his hands. “Okay, I’ll find a mirror. Vain woman,” he muttered as he left.

  “Me, vain?” She sputtered a laugh as he disappeared through the office door. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  Jennie spotted a purse lying nearby, a large tapestry bag. Not her purse. Much too big and flamboyant for Jennie Carmichael. She fumbled through the contents until she found a Gucci wallet. She opened it to the driver’s license. The woman in the photo had her hair pulled back, though several waves graced her forehead. Jennie’s attention went to the name: Maxine Lizbon.

  Sam reappeared with the mirror he used to obliquely see who came in the door.

  Jennie threw her wallet back in her purse. “Nothing’s missing,” she said quickly, taking the mirror from Sam.

  “Are you saying you think you were mugged?”

  She looked at her reflection. Her throat constricted when she saw a str
anger’s face. No, not a stranger: Maxine Lisbon’s face. There was no sign of Jennie there. The woman looking back had red hair, lots of it, curling past her shoulders. When she lifted her bangs, she saw the gash. She quickly let them go again, feeling woozy. Sam was right—it wasn’t pretty. Instead, she concentrated on her general appearance.

  Her eyes were the prettiest shade of green she had ever seen. Her skin was pale right then, making the streaks of blush stand out like a clown’s. Her upper lip twitched, and she saw it move in the reflection. Even that little movement made her head ache, but she didn’t care at the moment. Excitement shot through her veins, spreading a warmth through her entire body. She shoved the mirror back at Sam, not able to hide her smile.

  “It doesn’t look too bad.” Her smile widened. She was Maxine now. Could she dare to hope this was real? With no wheelchair in sight, that meant—had to mean—she could walk. Shep returned with the glass of water, huffing and puffing next to her.

  “Couldn’t find a darned cup anywhere to save my life. Or yours.”

  She took a drink and handed it back to him. “Thanks. I think I feel better now.” That was an understatement. She turned to Sam. “Could you help me up, please?”

  “You should stay put until the ambulance comes.”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  Sam just stared at her for a moment, expelling a short breath. Finally he extended a hand, and she grasped it, holding on for a second before pulling herself up. She had a whole new chance, a whole new body. Through Maxine, Jennie could now be the kind of woman Sam might fall in love with. She let her feet hold her weight for the first time in years. Her legs wavered, and she reached for Sam’s strong shoulders. He steadied her with his hands, fingers tight around her waist.

  “Did you hurt your legs?” he asked.

  “No. I’m just a little…weak, that’s all.”

  Even though this body was used to walking, her mind wasn’t accustomed to issuing those kinds of commands. She concentrated. Such a simple action, something she used to take for granted a long time ago. How did you walk? One foot in front of the other. Her legs wobbled, and she held tight to Sam as they walked inside the office.

  “Shep, why don’t you wait out front for the ambulance?” Sam asked.

  “Is she going to be all right?”

  Sam looked at her, lifting an appraising eyebrow. “As all right as she’s ever been, I suspect.”

  Now what did that mean? Did he know? Could he somehow tell she was really in this body? No, he would have been celebrating this blessed event of walking with her. He would have looked at her in that familiar, warm way.

  Shep set the glass of water on her desk and left to watch for the ambulance. Jennie made her slow way to the flowery couch Sam hated, the one his ex-wife had put in when she’d apparently used Sam’s office as her first decorating assignment. He went into his office to put back the mirror he’d brought out for her. Romeo ambled cautiously over, his nose wiggling.

  “Romeo!” She leaned down to rub her cheek against his head, but her head started spinning at the movement. Gripping the edge of the couch, she held her hand out to him instead. “Romeo, what’s the matter?” Whoops. She knew what the matter was. He didn’t know her.

  Sam snapped his fingers as he reentered the front area. “Romeo, go to your pillow.” Romeo gave one more glance to Jennie, then swaggered over and dropped down on his pillow with a dog sigh, watching her.

  Sam crouched down in front of her. “Maxine, did someone hit you out there? Mug you?” he asked, crouching “You said nothing was missing in your purse.”

  “No, I don’t think so. I was just being paranoid, I guess.” Well, she didn’t think she’d been mugged. “I…fell. Tripped or something.” She tried to laugh it off, but Sam’s expression was serious.

  He stood and tilted her head back, his finger gently tracing the skin around her cut. “This didn’t just happen. The blood around the cut is too dry. I’d say it happened about half an hour ago.” His eyes met hers. “Try to remember what happened just before you came here to see me.”

  She didn’t want him to think she’d lost her memory, but it was going to be hard to bluff through this one. Then she had a sobering realization. Whatever had happened to Maxine had killed her. Whether accidental or not, this gash had probably proved fatal. She decided to tell him the truth, or as close as possible.

  “I’m not sure, to be honest with you. I can’t remember what happened in the last hour.”

  “What about before that? Do you know who you are? Maybe there’s something wrong with your legs.”

  “No, there’s nothing wrong with my legs.” She couldn’t keep the smile away at that statement, but she tried to downplay it. After all, she’d bounded up the steps three at a time earlier, or at least Maxine had. Bounded up the stairs. What a wonderful thought! Her legs had to work pretty good for that. She lifted each leg, flexing her foot to demonstrate their ability. “See, they work just fine. And I know who I am. I’m Maxine Lizbon, and I’m thirty years old.” She recited her address, the one from the license.

  Sam gave her a wry grin, jumpstarting her heart all over again. “You must have hit your head hard; I’ve never heard you tell anyone your age.”

  “Huh?”

  “But you don’t remember how you got that gash?” he continued. “That’s a serious injury.”

  “No. I can remember everything up until that point.”

  Sam tilted his head. “Why did you come to see me?”

  Uh, except for that. She swallowed. “I-I don’t know. Maybe it has something to do with this.” She pointed to her forehead.

  “In here,” Shep’s voice said. Two paramedics followed him into the office.

  “I’m fine, really,” she said.

  The woman said, “Let us be the judge of that, okay?” She was short and stocky, and looked like she meant business.

  Jennie tilted her head back and lifted her bangs.

  “Yow,” the woman said. “We’d better take you in.”

  “No,” Jennie said, almost too quickly. She had an illogical fear that the doctors would see right through her, call her an imposter or body thief. “Can’t you just stitch me up here?” At the doubt in their faces, she crossed her arms and added, “I’m not going to the hospital.”

  “Don’t be difficult,” Sam said. “I know you’re really good at it, but not now. Maxine, are you listening to me?”

  Jennie realized he was talking to her and not the paramedic. “It’s not that bad. I hate hospitals.” She’d spent enough time in one after her accident.

  “We can’t stitch you up. All we can do is apply a butterfly stitch, which is more like a band-aid. Real stitches will close the wound much better, leave less of a scar.”

  “No hospitals. Just do what you can do here.”

  Sam shook his head, rolling his eyes upward. “You’re just asking for trouble, woman.” To the paramedic, he said, “Can’t you forcibly take her to the hospital?”

  “No, afraid not. All we can do is make her sign a release so if something happens, we’re not liable.” She turned back to Jennie. “Okay, we’ll apply the butterfly, but if you have any dizziness or fainting spells, you must go to the hospital right away. Head injuries are serious business.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Jennie said solemnly.

  After running a battery of tests, including looking deep into her eyes with their flashlight, the woman said, “I don’t see any signs of concussion, but I really wish you’d let us take you in.” When Jennie shook her head, the woman shrugged. “All right, it’s your head. We’ve got to cleanse it first.” The man with her handed her cleansing solution. When the woman pushed Maxine’s hair back, she blinked. “That’s strange.”

  “What?” both Jennie and Sam asked at the same time.

  “I’d swear it looks better already. Like it’s healing unnaturally fast.”

  Jennie smiled. “See, told you it’s not that bad.”

  Jennie closed her ey
es. Sam winced as he watched them do their ministrations on her head, which was why Jennie decided she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Her fingers dug into the fabric of the sofa as the cleanser stung.

  She focused her thoughts on her old life. She could tell Sam the truth, but would he believe her? He already seemed to think she was wacky, and her actions thus far hadn’t done much to dispel that. Sam wasn’t into the stuff that defied reason, like ghosts and UFO’s. If she told him she was Jennie’s soul come back in another body, she might lose him forever. That thought made her fingers curl over the arms of the sofa. She felt Sam’s hand cover hers.

  “It’ll be over soon.”

  Jennie smiled. She couldn’t risk losing Sam, not now. Even if he did believe her, he’d probably still look at her as the old Jennie anyway. Just because she looked different didn’t mean his feelings would change. Besides, the old Jennie was dull. She had no life, no excitement. No, it was time to let Jennie die. As Maxine, she would be exciting, sexy, everything Sam wanted in a woman. They would start fresh, the two of them. She would make Sam fall in love with her this time, and nothing would get in the way of that.

  “You’re all set,” the woman’s voice said.

  “You bet I am.” Jennie’s eyes popped open. “I mean, I feel better already. Thank you.”

  The paramedic shone the flashlight in her eyes again, and Jennie willed her pupils to dilate properly. “Well, you look just fine. Okay remember, any dizziness or fainting—”

  “I’ll go to the hospital right away,” Jennie promised.

  “And I would make an appointment with your doctor as soon as possible, as a precaution.”

  Jennie signed the release, with Sam shaking his head the whole time, and the medical team left. She was alone with Sam again. She’d been alone with Sam many times, but it felt different this time. The office was overly warm, and she pulled off her expensive London Fog coat and laid it on the couch.