The imaginary accusations played out in her mind, and she swallowed hard. Her mouth suddenly felt parched, and she swallowed again, willing any saliva to bring some relief.
“What do you think happened?” he asked cautiously.
Jane shrugged. “I dunno,” she lied.
“You seem pretty quiet. Not your normal talkative self. Normally, Sarah and I can’t get you to stop talking,” he joked, but it fell flat.
Albert!Jane thought to herself. She remembered seeing his mother, Careen, come to collect him on several occasions. His family owned a bakery on Canal Street. Albert, Sarah and Abigail were inseparable. They had been friends from a young age, and now they were her friends.
“I’ve heard my mom talk about Mrs. Hoffman-Abernathy and how she has been in and out of illnesses,” Jane said. “Maybe the screaming was a sign of the illness?” She watched Albert’s face carefully to see if he believed her lie.
“Hmmmm. Possibly. I just hope she is okay. I kinda wanted to stick around to see what was going to happen but figured it was best to get home.”
How could he not see the old woman had died? Is he minimizing what we say for my benefit?Jane mused as they entered the edges of downtown Buffalo.
The city seemed so much larger through the eyes of a child. The brick buildings looked different from the last time she traveled there with Lizzie. Men had tipped their hats at the mother and daughter duo as they’d perused the various stores. Now as a child, the adults ignored her existence.
“This is me. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Albert stopped in front of the bakery, his townhome nestled in the floors above. “Unless you want me to walk you all the way home?” Abigail shook her head as the smell of fresh baked bread consumed her senses, and her stomach growled. Her new home wasn’t far from the bakery.
“See you tomorrow though?” He asked as he headed toward the door. Jane shrugged and Albert gave her a look that all but confirmed he was trying to stay positive for her.
She turned into the direction of her new home. Her legs felt weak, but not the same weak they’d once felt in her old body.
Nerves.Her nerves were bubbling to the surface, and she realized she was going to have to behave like a child. Listening to Lizzie over the years talk about Sarah and her family gave her some of the knowledge she needed. It was just the idea of being a 69-year-old woman in a child’s body that was throwing her mind into a dizzy spell.
As she walked, she familiarized herself with how her new body felt.
Abigail, Abigail, Abigail,she thought over and over again with her new name.I’m Abigail now. Jane is gone, but I can live on as Abigail.
If this was going to work, she would need to let go of Jane and fully become Abigail. As she walked, she began a mental rundown of the Winslow family. The father, named Gerry, was not much of a remarkable man. He’d had an idea of opening a store where he could sell already-manufactured furniture, rather than people having to make it themselves.
The town had at first written him off, but he was determined. He had already secured a storefront with the little money they had left. Gerry was working on saving more money to bring in new goods. The mother, named Sarah, she was always particularly fond of. She had the same name as her granddaughter, or rather, as Jane’s granddaughter.
I’m Abigail, Abigail, Abigail.She resumed the mantra after the internal slip-up.
Now as Abigail, she would need to be cautious with how she spoke about them, because they were now her mother and father.How strange,she thought,I’ve never had a mother before, not really.Perhaps this was her chance.
Also, she could actually help them to be successful, which would allow her opportunities she hadn’t in her previous life.
A few things she knew for certain: this was completely random and unnatural, and she shouldn’t repeat any of the mistakes she had made as Jane, and life was too short for regrets. She wanted to become wealthy and help her new family secure that wealth any way possible.
She stood outside the door of the townhouse. It was modest, and the warmth emanating from the windows was welcoming to her, even as an outsider. The door opened suddenly. Sarah’s frame was dark with the interior light shining brightly behind her.
“Child, what are you doing standing there? I need your help with supper, and I expect you to come home sooner in the future,” she quipped, wiping her hands on her apron.
New Abigail smiled, recognizing the love veiled in the chastisement.So, this is what having a mother feels like,Abigail thought and marveled that she was getting a chance to do a whole new life again.
Her small legs rushed up the stairs and leapt against the woman’s body, her new mother’s arms wrapped around her.
I have been given a fresh start, and this time I won’t waste it.
Sweat plastered Abigail’s face as her new mother rocked her slowly against her body. Fear coursed through her newly small body. Her mind struggled to adjust to its new home.
“Sh. Sh. Sh. It’s okay. You were just having a nightmare.” Sarah stroked the wet, matted hair from Abigail’s face. The desire to pull away from this near-stranger waged a war against the logic that her brain screamed.
This is my new mom. I am not a sixty-nine-year old woman. I am a child. I am Abigail.
Her thoughts betrayed her, and a new droplet of sweat trickled down her face, a face which was no longer rough to the touch, no longer familiar. She was a stranger in her own body, in her new life.
