A Moment in Time by Deb Stover Read Free Book Online

Clarke?
           "I'm not dead."
           Dottie snorted and dropped a red velvet robe on the bed beside Jackie.   "No, you ain't dead, but you might be if you don't figure out a way to give Rupert his money's worth outta this deal."
           What color blind idiot had selected a red robe for a redhead?   Biting her lower lip, Jackie curbed the urge to snap at her reluctant hostess.   She closed her eyes and forced herself to recap last night's events.   Again.  
           Snow.   Lolita.   The fire...
           "Did anything...strange happen here last night?"   Jackie looked up at Dottie, hoping against hope for a miracle–or at least some answers.
           "Well, you must've come sometime last night or early this mornin'."   Dottie shrugged.   "That's strange enough, especially since I remember lockin' the door."
           Jackie sighed, shoving her hair behind her ears where she couldn't see it.   "A storm, or maybe a...a fire?"
           Dottie frowned and shook her head.   "Nah.   No fires I've heard about, and we ain't had rain or snow for weeks.   Now that's strange.   No storms at all, but I'd say we're overdue a good one."
           Pressing her index fingers against both temples, Jackie closed her eyes again to think.   "Okay, so it's 1891."   There, she'd said it, but she still didn't believe it.   "What's the exact date?"
           Dottie heaved an impatient sigh.   "May seventh."  
           "It can't be."   As Jackie opened her eyes, a wave of dizziness assaulted her with all the savoir-faire of the Denver Broncos' offensive line.   "Yesterday was June eleventh."
           "No, today is the seventh of May, just like I said."   The woman looked up at the ceiling, then met Jackie's gaze with an unspoken and unmistakable challenge.   "Just because I don't talk as fine and pretty as you don't mean I can't tell what day it is.   You'd best not be forgettin' that either, Miss Loli–"
           "I'm not Lolita."   Jackie's voice rose with each syllable.   Somehow, she had to make these people understand, even if she didn't.   "My name is Jackie Clarke–not Lolita Belle.   Got it?"
           "Sounds like a man's name."   A nasty smile twisted Dottie's face, and her whiskey-colored eyes glittered menacingly.   "You better watch yourself.   That handsome Cole Morrison ain't around to save you now."
           "Save me from what?   Certain insanity?"   Jackie covered her face and drew a long, slow breath through the spaces between her fingers.   "I'm tired and I need to use the bathroom."
           "You're really somethin'."   Disapproval came through loud and clear in Dottie's tone.   "Maybe this 'll teach Rupert a lesson he won't soon forget."
           Jackie held a hand to the top of her head as she stood.   The sudden change in elevation increased the pain in her skull to the atomic level.   Minimum.   "My kingdom for a couple of Ibuprofen."
           "Ibu-what?"  
           "Never mind."   Why had she taken off her fanny pack?   Talk about stupid.   Jackie rubbed her temples again, but found little relief from the constant and increasing throb.   "Did you say something about a bath?   And where do you pee around here?"   Maybe a hot bath would kill the pain.
           "Water closet's down the hall."   Dottie waved her hand in front of her face.   "I don't reckon you can wait 'til Saturday for a bath.   Do you?"
           Jackie drew a deep breath and released it very slowly.   "Saturday?   I take a shower or bath every morning."
           "Every day?"  
           Jackie couldn't prevent the smug smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth.   Mean old Dottie deserved every single inconvenience Jackie could create.   And then some.   "Yes, every single day."
           "Don't your skin just curl up and die from all that water?"   Dottie shuddered with enough