Mr. and Mrs. Johnson: I'm not sure if you'll remember me--my name is Sarah Wintuck, I was your daughter Allie's fourth-grade teacher. Having left New Jersey myself several years ago, I never heard about what happened to her until recently. I'm so terribly sorry. My heart goes out to you. I will be visiting Memphis all this week, and would love the opportunity to meet with you.

Allie thought for a moment, then added:

I have some fond memories of your daughter that I know she would have wanted me to share with you.

Sincerely,

Sarah Wintuck

Now there was nothing to do but wait.

Within five minutes the mailer-daemon sent back her father's e-mail as "undeliverable" and "nonexistent."

Allie's heart sank in the old woman's chest as she stared numbly at the screen. It was her mother who had relatives in Memphis. Could it be that her father died in the crash? She tried to dismiss the notion and see the glass as half-full. Her mother's e-mail was not bounced back. That was a positive sign.

She waited for a response from her mother, filling her time by tending to all those mewling cats who kept jumping up on the table, competing for her attention. By six o'clock no response had come, and Allie knew she couldn't stay much longer. She lay down on the bed, peeled out of the woman, and the shock of it jarred the woman awake. The cat woman bolted up in bed, then once more chastised herself for sleeping the day away, and checked all the locks again.

* * * The next day when the cat woman lay down for her nap, she set her alarm clock for one hour. It did no good, because the moment Allie skinjacked her, she turned the alarm off.

There was a single e-mail waiting for [email protected] /* */ .

Allie felt the woman's body become lightheaded in nervous anticipation. She took slow, deep breaths, waited until the wave of dizziness passed, then Allie opened the e-mail.

Mrs. Wintuck: Thank you for your note. It would be wonderful to catch up with you. Anytime after five, any day this week would be fine. Perhaps you could come over for dinner. The address is 42 Springdale Street--let me know if you need directions, and when you'd like to stop by.

Sincerely,

Andrea Johnson

Allie pushed away from the computer so quickly, she nearly fell over backward in the chair. A cat jumped up on the laptop, opening several random windows. It must have hit the reply button as well, because the top window was an empty reply, just waiting for Allie to fill in the words.

Allie told her mother she would be there at six thirty tonight.

Then she went out to buy hair color and a curling iron.

Chapter 26 Home

The house did not look like a home her family should live in--but then, no home that didn't include Allie would seem right. As she approached the front door, she double-checked her dowdy clothes, and her newly styled hair--now auburn instead of the salt-and-pepper it had been. If she didn't know better, she really would think she was her fourth-grade teacher.

She stood at the front door for what felt like forever, reaching for the doorbell, then pulling her finger back, reaching, then pulling back, until finally she pulled back a little too late, and succeeded in ringing the bell anyway.

Footsteps from inside. The door opening. A familiar face. A little careworn, a little tired, but Allie still knew that face. After three years Allie was standing in front of her mother.

"Mrs. Wintuck, I'm glad you could make it."

Allie had to keep from hurling herself into her mother's arms. She had to remember she had a role to play. She was Allie pretending to be a cat woman pretending to be a teacher from New Jersey. "Please, call me Sarah," Allie said, and stepped into the house. The foyer opened right into the living room. All their old furniture was there, with a few new additions.

"Make yourself comfortable," her mother said. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Some water would be nice."

Her mother went off to get some water, and Allie went to work looking around the room, searching for any sign that her father was still part of this picture, but there was so much to take in, she didn't even know what she should be looking for. He was in photographs, but then so was she. A high school graduation picture sat on the mantel. It hadn't even occurred to Allie that her sister, April, would now be away at college. While time had stopped for Allie, everyone else's lives had moved on.

"I've ordered Chinese food," her mother said, coming back from the kitchen with some bottled water. "I hope you don't mind; I didn't get home from work in time to cook."

"That's perfectly all right, I'm just glad to be here."

"We're glad to have you."

We! Her mother said we! "So ... your husband ..."

"He's picking up the food on the way home. He should be here soon."

Allie practically collapsed into the sofa, full of sweet relief. So he had survived! If nothing else came from this meeting, at least she would have that! But then--what if it was a new husband? What if her mother had remarried? A sister in college, a new house--a lot can happen in three years. She had to know.

"Was he ... badly injured in the accident? I hope not." Allie clenched her toes, preparing for the worst of all possible news. Then her mother said.

"It was a difficult rehabilitation, but he pulled through."

Allie released her breath, not even realizing she had been holding it. She felt her face flush with relief. Her mother took it for thirst, and sat across from her, pouring the bottled water into a glass for her. As Allie reached for the glass, she saw that her hand--the cat woman's hand--was trembling, so Allie took the glass with her other hand instead.

"I must say, I was surprised to get your e-mail," her mother said.

"As soon as I heard you were here in Memphis, I knew I had to contact you. You know, Allie was one of my favorite students."

Her mother smiled slimly. "Really."

Allie searched her memory for a poignant moment to share. "I remember for Mother's Day, we had a poem that each student was supposed to paste into a card they were making--but Allie insisted on writing her own poem--and when it was done, half the class wanted to use her poem instead of the original one!"

Her mother looked at her incredulously. "I still have that card. And you're telling me you remember that?"

Actually, Allie remembered the poem itself, but realized that reciting it might be just a little too weird. "As I said, she was a favorite student."

"What else do you remember?" her mother asked. The tone of the question seemed just a little bit off. Allie didn't think much of it at the time.

"I remember ... I remember one day she came to school sad, because you and she had a fight that morning. Something about a neighborhood boy you didn't want her to spend time with. She never told you, but she was sorry-- and you were right, he turned out to be a real creep."

Her mother furrowed her eyebrows. "That wasn't in fourth grade."

How stupid! thought Allie. Of course it wasn't. Allie found herself getting increasingly nervous, and as she did, that hand kept trembling more and more. "No, it wasn't," Allie said. "But sometimes Allie would confide in me, even years after she had left my class."

Whoo! Lucky save. Allie lifted the water to her mouth, and noticed that both her hands were trembling now.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, yes, fine. Not to worry." Then the glass slipped from her hand and shattered on the hardwood floor. It was the blasted cat woman! Allie was losing control. How long had she been in her body now? Three hours? Four? Quickly she bent over to pick up the broken glass, but her hands were shaking too much. "How clumsy of me!"

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it."

Now they were both on their knees picking up the broken glass, and when Allie looked to her mother, Allie found herself suddenly hissing through gritted teeth.

"Help me--she's stolen my body!"

Her mother just stared at her, not sure how to react. "What did you say?"

Allie was slipping on the ice again. The cat woman was not only awake, but she knew! Allie had to remain in control at all costs. She grappled with the woman inside her mind, forcing her down, and said, her voice a strange warble. "You'll have to forgive me. I'm prone to sudden outbursts. Tourette's Syndrome, you know. Some days are better than others."

Then came the blessed sound of a phone ringing.

"I should get that," Allie's mother said, a little coolly. "Leave the glass, I'll take care of it."

She crossed the room to pick up the phone, while Allie buried her face in her hands.

Stay out of this! she silently told the cat woman. You'll get your stupid body back!

--Who are you? What do you want from me?--

It's not your business! Allie bore down and pushed her deep again.

Her mother was on the phone now. Allie now sat on her shaking hands, and forced a fake smile as her mother turned back to her.

"Yes ... I see ..." her mother said into the phone. "Is that so? ... Don't worry, I'll take care of it... . I said don't worry ... I know ... me, too."

She hung up, and came back toward Allie, but she didn't sit down. "That was my husband," she said. "He just got off the phone with Sarah Wintuck, who's still teaching fourth grade in Cape May, New Jersey."

The slippery ice beneath Allie's feet became the edge of a glacier calving into the sea. She was in freefall now, and deep inside her the cat woman was screaming to be released.

"I don't know who you are, but I want you to leave," her mother said coldly.

"I ... I just ..." But what could she say? What could she tell her that would make any sense? "I have a message from your daughter!"

The hatred in her mother's eyes was so potent, Allie had to look away. "I want you out of my house!" she said. "Now!" And she didn't wait for her to leave. She grabbed Allie by her skinny cat woman arm, and pulled her toward the door. In a moment she was over the threshold again, outside the door, about to be hurled out of her parents' lives.

"Please!" Allie said.

"Help me!" shouted the cat woman.

"You think I don't know about you people!" said her mother. "You prey on people's hopes, telling them what they want to hear, and then you rob them blind! Well, you picked the wrong family to scam!"

Her mother's hand was on the door, ready to slam it, and Allie couldn't allow that. She had to say something to make her understand.

"They were arguing about the radio!"

And it stopped her mother cold. "What did you say?"

"When the accident happened, they were arguing about the radio--he turned it down, and she turned it back up. But it wasn't his fault! She wants you both to know that the accident wasn't his fault!"

Her mother's expression went from shock to horror to fury in the span of a single second, and then she said in a voice lethal with venom, "Whoever you are, I hope you rot in hell!" She slammed the door so hard it almost broke the jamb, and Allie could hear her bursting into tears on the other side.

Allie ran from the house, tears filling her own eyes, her whole body shaking, the cat woman fighting to get out, and there was a pain deep in her back, spreading down her arms.