The Road To Echo Point

“It’s not a trick, Mom. I’ve never lied to you before, have I?”

She ruminated on that for a minute, hands on hips. Apparently she’d forgotten she was naked from the waist up. But Vi hadn’t. Her gaze bounced around the room as she looked everywhere, but at Daisy. At least the other woman wore white cotton briefs.

“Nooo…you haven’t lied. But she’s sneaky. See, she won’t even look me in the eye. And she won’t tell me her name. She’s hiding something.”

Ian shrugged helplessly. “She has problems with new things. Remembers stuff from twenty years ago, but has a hard time with anything new.”

“Can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” Daisy chirped.

Ian’s lips twitched into a smile. “Exactly. Well, Vi, we’ll just have to keep trying.”

“Who’s Vi?” Daisy interrupted.

Ian sighed and shook his head. “She’s having a hard time with the Vi part. Sometimes giving her a point of reference helps. Mind if I try something?”

“Go ahead.”

“Mom, this is Violet. She’s named after a flower just like you.”

“Yeah, as in shrinking Violet,” Vi muttered.

Daisy practically glowed with excitement. She gestured with her hands as she spoke. “Another flower woman. I should have known immediately. We’re kindred spirits, my dear. This is so exciting.” She floated across the room and slid her arm around Vi’s waist. “I’m so glad you came, Violet dear. It will be so good to have another flower woman to keep me company.”

Vi forced herself not to cringe. If she kept very, very still, her elbow would not brush against the woman’s bare breast. She sucked in a breath and managed a plastic smile.

“Violet. Yep. That’s me.”

Ian gently grasped Daisy by the shoulders and drew her away. “Let’s get you cleaned up and dressed and ready for your volunteer work. You can chat with Vi…ah…Violet, when you get home.”

“That would be lovely, dear.” Daisy twisted around to wave gaily. “We’ll talk later, Violet.”

And that had been the beginning of the end. She would continue to be Violet for the duration of her stay, she just knew it. Once Daisy latched on to something, she didn’t let go. Maybe it was because of all the memories she’d lost. Maybe that made what she did remember all the more precious.

A high-pitched whine interrupted Vi’s reverie, bringing her back to the present. The noise came from the corner. She swiveled on the stool to look into Annabelle’s concerned brown eyes. This time they didn’t trigger a flood of bad feelings. Annabelle was a big dog—what had Ian said?—a chocolate Lab mix? Really nothing at all like the terrier pup she’d had as a kid. The pup her dad had killed.

Annabelle whined again.

“I’m okay. Nothing to worry about, girl.”

Who was the crazy lady now? Talking to animals.

The whine grew more persistent, ending with a half bark.

Vi got off the stool and approached the dog, slowly, carefully. She seemed harmless enough. Head on paws, big beseeching eyes, who could resist?

Vi knelt a few feet from the animal and stretched out her hand. The dog sniffed her fingers, then her big, pink tongue swiped across Vi’s palm.

“Yech.” Vi wiped her hand on her pants, but leaned a little closer.

The dog didn’t move a muscle, just swished its tail slightly. Bolstered with confidence, Vi let her fingers wander over the soft, silky ears.

Annabelle’s tail thumped her approval.

Warmth flared somewhere near her heart. That wasn’t bad at all. She lowered herself to sit cross-legged next to the dog. Annabelle inched forward on her stomach and rested her head on Vi’s lap.

The warmth expanded. It became a reassuring feeling that grew with each stroke of the dog’s coat.

“You’re a lovely girl, aren’t you.”

The pink tongue bathed her wrist.

“You know, girl, it was an accident. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

The big, brown eyes gazed up at her, as if she were the most important person on earth.

“And I don’t really think Daisy is as big a pain in the butt as I did at first. She just kind of freaks me out. Never knowing what she’ll do. And that’s a lot of responsibility. Ian says he trusts me, but he doesn’t know me. I can’t even keep a houseplant alive, let alone a confused old woman.”

Vi stroked Annabelle’s head and worked her way down her soft, silky back. She really was beautiful. Her hind leg was in a cast, but healing nicely according to the vet.

“And you know what, Annabelle? The woman insists on calling me Violet. I don’t want to be Violet. Violet, as in shrinking Violet. As in, let-people-walk-all-over-her Violet. And run-and-hide Violet….”

Annabelle whined, stretching up to lick Vi’s chin.

“I didn’t mean to upset you. I promise I’ll help you get better. That way you can have your job back, and I can have mine. Sound like a plan?”

She nodded for the dog. Of course it was a good plan. Next time she went to Phoenix for more files, she’d stop off at the library and do some research on fractures. It would right a wrong, good karma and all that. And it would get her out of this mixed-up place where up was down and night was day.

IAN STOOD IN THE DOORWAY, watching Vi and Annabelle. The woman held the dog’s head in her lap, talking softly, so softly he had to lean forward to hear.

Remorse? And tenderness. And something missing, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Confidence. That cocky attitude.

Guilt, or the power bar, twisted his gut. It was okay to use her when he thought she was a heartless witch. But now she looked relaxed and very unwitchlike.

Her tender murmurs grated on his nerves. Ian didn’t want to hear anymore. He didn’t need to feel bad about disrupting her life.

He cleared his throat.

Vi’s head came up. Their eyes met for a minute, before she looked away. What he’d seen there made him curse under his breath. Confusion. And fear. Beneath that tough-as-nails stuff was a woman hiding from something. A woman who didn’t expect much from people. But with the dog, she’d let down her guard. Let out all that vulnerability. And dammit, he’d had to witness it.

“I was checking on Annabelle. Making sure she was okay.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Short run.” She raised an eyebrow.

Ian tried to convince himself he wasn’t seeing her any differently, but he was. “I don’t like being gone long. Force of habit. Besides, I’ve got a lot to do.”

He watched her pry Annabelle’s head off her lap, careful not to disturb the snoring dog. She rose so smoothly the dog didn’t even twitch.