“But she isn’t used to that name yet,” Alice snapped. “Max, go get her some water.” Etta heard footsteps fading into the distance.

“He’s gone now,” Alice said, “so you can wake up.”

Etta opened her eyes to see the house and one of the people of her dream. She had the strangest feeling that she was home.

6

As Etta looked into her sister’s eyes, what she felt most strongly was a sense of urgency. Yes, these were dreams, but there was something odd about them. She hadn’t told Henry, but she’d looked at every photo she could find in his house. None of them had a picture of the Brontë sampler. She hadn’t seen it until he showed it to her. But yet, she had seen it.

Above all, she didn’t want to think about Wyatt Earp who may or may not have existed.

Etta was beginning to believe there was a deeper reason for the dreams. She didn’t know if the purpose was about her own life or someone she loved—and that had come to include Henry—but there was something she was supposed to achieve.

“Are you all right?” Alice asked.

Since the core of her body was encased in an Iron Lady torture device, Etta struggled to sit up. “I’m well. I guess today was a bit much for me.”

“So the wedding did happen?” Alice sounded eager. She was very pretty even with no makeup and furry eyebrows. Her skin glowed with youth and good health. She was probably early twenties.

“Yes. Married, witnessed, signed.”

Alice let out her breath exactly like Alicia did when she’d solved a problem. “We are now truly sisters.”

“We are indeed. I feel like I’ve known you all my life.”

Alice smiled. “Max said my letters to you were too long and told too much. But it was so nice to have someone to talk to.”

Immediately, Etta’s hair stood on end. “He doesn’t allow you to have friends?”

“He? You mean Max? Of course I have friends. As many as I want.” She got up from her chair, picked up her cane, and went to the doorway. “Esmeralda? Could we have some tea, please?” She looked back at Etta. “Are you hungry? I told Max to take some food but he didn’t. It took you two a long while to get here.”

Etta was trying not to stare, but she really wanted to know why Alice was limping. Was it a disease? Something that in the twenty-first century could be cured with a few pills? Or was it an injury?

Alice sat back down. “I see Max didn’t tell you. I was born with a twisted foot. He has always made me comfortable. And now I have you.”

Etta thought that it sounded like a lonely existence, but she just smiled.

Minutes later, an old woman came in bearing a tray loaded with a pretty teapot and cups. Etta realized that “old” was relative. The women was probably in her fifties. Young in modern times. She didn’t smile or show any emotion.

“Thank you,” Alice said, and they watched her shuffle out of the room. “She may not show it, but she’s very glad you’re here.” As Alice poured the tea, she lowered her voice. “Esmeralda has been with me since I was a baby. She cooks for us, but...”

“Not very well?”

Alice nodded. “She very much wants to go home.”

“Where is that?”

“Mexican Town,” Alice said. “All her family lives there and a lot of Max’s men.”

Etta finished a cup of tea, then wrestled herself up off the hard couch. “Would you show me around?” She paused as she made a discovery. Having your insides compressed to the size of a toddler’s didn’t allow you to store much. She had to pee. “Could I use your...?”

“Of course. I should have thought.”

Please don’t let it be a chamber pot under the bed, she thought. She followed Alice through the house to her beautiful glassed-in room. Alice opened the door at the end. There was a little path disappearing through the trees.

“It’s just mine,” Alice said proudly. “Max had it made for me.”

Etta followed the path to an outhouse. It was, of course, hideous. There was a rudimentary seat around a hole above open sewage. It took Etta a while to deal with her undergarments. She couldn’t pull them down but had to part the overlapping fabric of the crotch. It wasn’t easy. “Elastic,” she murmured. “How I miss you.”