Free Shifting Shadows by Sally Berneathy

should go to work. Maybe that will help me remember.” And I’ll be with someone I can trust.
    He nodded, his eyes narrowed, studying her. “Maybe.”
    “ Could you take me there?”
    “ Take you where?”
    “ To the shop. I’m afraid I don’t know where it is.”
    “ Take you to the shop. Sure, I can do that. I’ll let you follow me there, but you’ll probably want to take your car so you can come home when you want to.”
    “ I have a car?” she asked in amazement. “I can drive an automobile?” A picture of herself herding a speeding automobile down the street with others zipping around her sent her heart racing, then, just as quickly, she relaxed. Of course she could drive. She’d driven since she was sixteen. She just couldn’t quite remember how. “If you’ll show me, I’m sure it’ll all come back.”
    A flicker of belief flashed through Dylan’s usual skepticism.
    “ You don’t believe I’ve forgotten how to drive or who I am or how to operate the coffee machine,” she accused. “Why would I make up something like this?” In her frustration, her voice had risen almost to a shout.
    He picked up his coffee and sipped, set down his cup, raised his eyes to meet hers. She could see nothing in them. They were so dark that no light reflected from their depths. “Because you’re scared.” His voice was no louder than a whisper, but she could have heard his words from across the room.
    Because you ’re scared.
    Of what? she wanted to shout at him. She didn’t, because he was right. She was frightened and wasn’t sure she wanted to know of what .
    “ I’ll grab my jacket and be back to lead you to your shop on my way to work,” he said, sliding his chair away from the table.
    “ Thank you,” she murmured, her energy completely drained. She stared after him as he disappeared out the door and down the steps.
    Because you ’re scared.
    Of him? Of what he might do to her if he thought she remembered? Could he have pushed her down the stairs because of something she knew, something she could no longer remember? The mysterious papers she’d hidden in her office?
    She closed the door behind him and leaned against it, drew in a deep breath and tried to reason with herself. Since she ’d only dreamed about falling down the stairs, Dylan couldn’t have pushed her. She was having enough trouble reclaiming her life. She didn’t need to start making up stories about helpful neighbors pushing her downstairs, about hiding journals in her attic and important papers in her office.
    Because you ’re scared.
    His words whispered through her mind.
    She raced upstairs as if she could run away from them.
    In the safety of her room she concentrated on selecting an appropriate outfit from the clothes in Analise’s wardrobe. A cream-colored suit and emerald green silk blouse caught her eye, and she changed into them, reminding herself that, since she couldn’t find a corset, Analise probably didn’t wear one. No one probably wore them now. Like the bustle, it would be a thing of the past. And that was a good thing. Analise’s clothes were definitely more comfortable than Elizabeth’s.
    She started down the stairs then paused, thinking of the attic above her and her j ournal. The memory was so vivid, maybe she hadn’t made up that part. Maybe there really was a journal. She hesitated, looking longingly up toward the attic stairs. But Dylan would be arriving any minute. She could search tonight when she got home from the shop.
    She turned back to go downstairs when a glittering on the fourth step, on the ledge outside the bannister, caught her eye. She moved to the step, reached around and retrieved the item, nicking her finger in the process. It was glass—a small chunk of broken glass. Crystal, she thought, judging from the weight.
    Crystal with one edge broken and the other faceted like she ’d seen on the lamp in her dream. But dreams didn’t leave behind real, substantial fragments.

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