“Well, like I said, she died giving birth to me. I don't have any memories of her, but my father told me all about her. She was a great beauty and quite the loner. My father called her beautifully broken.”
“Why was she broken?”
“No matter what my mother had, she always craved more. She talked about wanting a bigger house and people on staff to take care of the chores. The move to America was particularly hard for her.” Jane paused as a cough rattled in her chest.
Lizzie leaned forward and sat her up. “Thank you, dear,” she continued. “She grew up in London, and her family was wealthy. Every meal was cooked and the house was cleaned by a full staff.”
“That makes sense. I can see how that would be a drastic change. New country, new husband. And to do it all without the help of a paid staff.” Lizzie wrinkled her brows together.
“Yes, he said that she was desperate to get back to London, and then one night they had a breakthrough. She still struggled with life here, but she stopped complaining. I think she was happy, or at least, I hope she was.”
“Sarah! Mind the carts and horses!” Lizzie rushed to the window to get Sarah’s attention. Jane smiled, admiring her daughter as a parent, always worried about her children’s safety.
“You rest for now, and I will go prepare supper for us.” Lizzie attempted another reassuring smile before retreating to the kitchen.
Once she was alone again, Jane thought back over her life: her tortured mother, her adoring father, her fond memories with her neighbors, and her husband Samuel. He had been previously married, but his wife had died in childbirth along with his child. He focused on his medical profession, and it wasn’t until he saw young Jane that he considered remarrying.
Their marriage had been nothing more than a way for her to survive. She wasn’t quite sure what love was. Jane knew she loved Lizzie, but when it had come to her adoring husband, she had felt something closer to fondness than love. She did miss him now, but she mostly missed the extra warmth of his body at night.
The sound of her daughter bustling around the kitchen brought her out of her reminiscing. Her long life should be celebrated, but she wanted to experience more.
“I need to stop focusing on what was, and focus on what I have today.” Her tired voice choked on muted sobs. Jane knew her time was near. Her breathing was shallow and difficult, and she was getting sleepy. She wanted to wait for the shadows of the oak tree to reach her favorite spot, a small bench that overlooked the meadow and river.
The group of children came running back by and paused to jump over the shadow’s lines. Jane smiled and closed her eyes, thinking about the small brunette girl playing outside, Abigail. She reminded Jane of herself at that age.Oh, to be young again!
Her chest grew warm and tight, and she felt a sense of peace as the darkness seemed to close in around her. Part of her felt ready. But she still had so much she wanted to do.Time is a cruel master, she thought.If only there was a way to escape it. A final tear fell down her cheek as she sank into the darkness around her.
In an instant, Jane opened her eyes, and she looked up to find herself standing beneath the large oak tree. She whipped her head to the window in time to hear a blood-curdling scream coming from the small window. Jane stood paralyzed as she watched Lizzie rush into the room to console the old woman.
She looked away long enough to glance down at her small, childlike frame. The wrinkles she had grown to despise had been replaced with soft, supple skin. A red polka dot dress replaced the nightgown. The same one she watched running around in front of the oak tree.Abigail!
If I’m in Abigail’s body, then who is in my old body?Jane thought, as she looked back up at the chaos in the window. It felt like what she could only describe as an out-of-body experience. She could see her own face staring back at her through the window, desperately trying to find her. The eye contact with herself made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.
It was over quickly. She watched as Lizzie hugged her old body, Jane’s body, that finally gave way to old age and the cause of the fever. She was dead, or at least, someone was.
She couldn’t make any sense of it. Somehow, she was now Abigail, and the girl whom she’d once known as Abigail had moved into her old body. Her mind still felt like Jane, just with a small body and no aches anywhere.
The sound of Lizzie’s sobs coming through the window shook her to her core. All she wanted was to rush in and console her daughter, to tell her she was still here, and that they could be together again.
But if Abigail’s … soul went into my old body, then that would mean she’s…Jane gulped. She couldn’t bring herself to think about it. The thought made her stomach churn, and the ground tilted beneath her feet.
She’s dead.Abigail’s soul, in Jane’s body, was gone.I didn’t mean for this to happen!Jane’s mind reeled as she continued to make sense of what was happening.
To her left, Sarah and the boy, whose name she couldn’t remember, also stood staring. The young boy nudged her shoulder. “Come on, Abigail. Let’s go before our parents come looking for us.”
“I’m going to go find Keith and make sure he doesn’t go home just yet.” Sarah’s voice shook, and her clear blue eyes were wide as she processed her grandmother’s death.Well, not really.
Her true grandmother stood an arm’s length away. Her dusty pink ruffled dress was marked with sweat, evidence of playtime. Her dark hair was matted down and slick with sweat.
The boy grabbed Jane’s hand practically dragging her away from the chaotic scene. Jane took one last look at the window and shook away the image of her old face looking back at her.
She was unsure what to do. The wisdom of old age told her to not say anything and to accept this mysterious gift of a new life.But deep down, she felt a new fear awaken as she was facing an unnatural force that left her with a multitude of questions. The two of them walked for a while along the paved road, away from the rural farms and into the heart of downtown Buffalo.
Jane thankfully knew Abigail’s family. Her mother, whose name was also Sarah, was Lizzie’s best friend. They had a modest townhome a couple blocks from Main Street.
Jane’s body is dead and with it, Abigail’s soul.The thought interrupted her as she worked through the details of the life she now inhabited.Maybe this is all a dream. Maybe I, Jane, did actually die, and this is just the afterlife.
The prolonged silence stretched into an awkwardness that filled the space between the two children as they walked. Jane didn’t know what to say. She was afraid if she said one word, he would accuse her.You’re not Abigail! You’re an imposter!
