Page 84 of My Heart Will Find You

After the call, she thought,And I believed that I could persuade them to return to living with Dad and me. How selfish of me!

She went back into the house, preparing to answer more of Henry’s questions, but he was reading and marking on every page in red. She said good-night and went upstairs to shower and go to bed.

One good thing about Henry’s questions was that they kept her mind so occupied that she couldn’t grieve.

But now and then, between questions, she asked herselfWhy?If she had gone back in time—and the portrait seemed to prove that she did—why did it happen? She’d searched through Henry’s extensive library and had viewed hundreds of websites, but she’d found no mention of Max or Alice or Cornelia or Bert. The town of Garrett was only referenced in the ghost town book.

So why?she wondered.Why did I go back?She couldn’t make herself believe it was all so she could get Wyatt Earp out of jail.

She went to sleep frowning. Why? Why? Why?

It was the morning of the fourth day since Etta returned. Henry had slowed down with his questions, and was now absorbed in putting the stories together.

She wasn’t sure how she felt about the idea of her story being made into fiction, complete with illustrations. Lester had sent her three photos of himself so Henry could portray him accurately. In the last one, he’d used a light shade of makeup to partition his face on the diagonal. It looked the same but was the opposite of what Etta had seen.

“Did he do it correctly?” Henry asked.

“It’s exactly like what I saw.”

“Then part of him remembers.” Henry said he believed that when a person was attracted to an era, it was because they’d lived during that time.

“You mean like how I don’t like Viking stories but I love Elizabethan? And the Roaring Twenties bore me, but I’m fascinated by the 1940s?”

“That’s just what I mean.” He went back to putting the story in order.

Etta was left alone to entertain herself—which was bad. Without distractions, she thought too much. She was at the point where she could hardly bear to go into Ben’s room. It reminded her too much of what she’d lost.

Early on the fourth morning, she was standing at the front window, looking out and hoping Freddy would show up. At least they could wave to each other. She wondered if in private Freddy liked to put on shoulder-baring dresses and apply gaudy makeup. That would fit Henry’s theory of people remembering their past lives.

A big, sturdy-looking car, a Ford Bronco, slowly drove down the empty road. The name of the vehicle made her smile.

When it parked at the curb in front of the house, she was surprised. Was it someone coming to see about Henry?

The driver’s door opened and out stepped a man. He walked around the vehicle, saw Etta at the window, and put up his hand in greeting.

She tried to smile at him, but couldn’t. He was Rufus.

As she watched him walk to the house, she thought how alike they were, the same age, the same face. They moved in the same way. But it was as though he’d been put through some magic machine that had de-aged him. This Rufus had nice teeth, his skin wasn’t damaged from a lifetime in the sun, and he was taller. Evolution at work.

She was in such a trance that he rang the doorbell twice before she got there and opened the door.

“Hello,” he said.

It was Rufus’s deep voice.I will not throw myself on him and bawl my eyes out, she told herself.

She managed to give a smile. “I’m Etta.”

“You’re the woman Ben hired?”

“No. I mean yes, I was hired, but Henry did it.”

“That makes sense. He’s always liked young, pretty females. Oh! Sorry. That’s not PC of me.”

“It’s better than being called old and plain.”

He chuckled. “I can’t imagine that! I guess Henry’s in his cave.” He nodded down the hall.

“Of course. He’d live there if Sophie’s singing didn’t drag him out.”

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