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Tess lifted the lid and saw a bunch of cotton and thread. "Embroidery. How ... stimulating."He glared at her. "You never wanted to be stimulated before."An entirely inappropriate twentieth-century retort popped into Tess's head. She grinned.

"What's so goddamn funny?" he hissed.

Tess tried to rein in her smile, with limited success.

"Nothing. Really."

He eyed her warily. "Amarylis, do whatever you want.

Just stay the hell out of my way."

Chapter Six

Do whatever you want.

Tess thought about it. What did she want to do?

She wanted to turn these four dysfunctional, frightened people into a family. As stupid and Snow White-ish as it sounded, she just wanted everyone to be happy. It was up to her to be the beginning. She had to start being an honest-to-God mother, then maybe they'd become a family around her.

"Okay," she said, taking a sip of coffee, "how?"What did mothers do? Unfortunately, the question answered itself. Cooking, cleaning, laundering, scrubbing.

"Yuck." No wonder she'd always hated those movies about pioneer wives. While the men were out herdin' do-gies and riding the range, the women were home cleaning floors and making butter.

She set her cup down and stood up. Unpleasant tasks, she knew, were a part of life, and ignoring them didn't make them go away. If Tess wanted to be the center of this family, she had to get started. Somehow she had to figure out how to be the perfect pioneer woman.

Getting dressed was probably a good start, she decided. Donna Reed never spent the day in her nightgown.

She went to the bedroom and checked on Caleb, who was asleep.

Then she opened the armoire and chose a waistless,scoop-necked gingham nursing gown. Dressing quickly, she tied on a wrinkled white apron, rolled up her sleeves, braided her hair, and went to work.

Four hours later, Tess crawled into the last corner of the kitchen. Dragging the bucket of soapy water behind her, she scrubbed the dirty floor and dried it with her now filthy towel. Then she applied the last bit of the beeswax furniture paste she'd found and polished the boards until they gleamed like bright new pennies.

Sitting back on her heels, she dropped the rag in the water and let out her breath in a deep, satisfied sigh. The house was clean. She grabbed the chairback and got tiredly to her feet, pressing a fist to her aching back as she surveyed her handiwork.

Beneath her feet, the floor was a panel of richly polished oak. The table, its imperfections concealed by a stark white tablecloth, was a profusion of early spring flowers. On the dresser's long, open shelves, the blue earthenware plates, tin coffeepot, and crockery jugs sparkled like new. Even the stove, now soot- and grease-free, looked as if it belonged in Country Home magazine. A fire burned low behind the iron-barred grate, glowing orange-red and sending off fingers of woodsmoke-scented heat.

Outside, heavy footsteps pounded up the porch steps. A second later, Jack broke through the kitchen door at a run.

A comical look of disbelief crossed his face as his heels skidded across the slick floor and whooshed out from underneath him. He hit the floor like a ton of bricks.

Tess gasped. "Are you all right?" "What the hell?"Her lips twitched. "Maybe I shouldn't have waxed the floor."Jack shook his head. "If you're trying to kill me, how about using a less painful method?"Tess smiled down at him and offered a hand.

Ignoring her, he grabbed hold of the chair and hauled himself to his feet. He looked around, noticing the kitchen for the first time. The customary scowl settled on his face.

"I suppose it's too clean?" Tess said.

"What the hell are you doing? You know goddamn well?"She winced at the loudness of his voice. "Oh, for God's sake, Jack. Shut up."He was stunned into speechlessness. "What?" "Your attitude sucks." "What?""I've got plans for this family?big plans. But frankly, I can't do squat if you're going to be running around yelling at me all the time. So we'd better come to an understanding." He laughed.

"Laugh all you want, just listen." He crossed his arms across his chest and studied her through slitted, uncompromising eyes. But he didn't leave. That was something, at least.

She curled her fingers around the chairback and stared at him. "Does the word 'reincarnation' mean anything to you?" "No."She frowned. "Well, some people think that after death, a soul can ... go on. You know, change bodies and get another life. Some of these people believe that time doesn't really exist, that everything?past, present, and future?is actually happening now. You believe that?" "No."Tess cocked an eyebrow. "That could present a bit of a problem." "Why?" She let go of the chair and moved toward him, noticing the way his eyes flinched at her every step. Directly in front of him, she stopped. "I'm not your loving wife." He snorted. "No shit."She laughed. "No, I don't mean I'm not loving; I'm mean I'm not your wife. She died."He blanched. "You remember that?""Death isn't one of those things that escapes your notice. It makes an ... impact. Anyway, she died, and here I am. Get it?"He leaned back against the dry sink. "I should be so lucky." "No, it's true. I'm?""Yeah, and I'm the King of England."Tess sighed heavily. She searched his gaze, probed the guarded green depths for a hint of open-mindedness.

It was a useless effort. She could tell that he wouldn't believe. There was no room in Jack's ideology for the reality of soul swapping. "Okay, Jack, have it your way. I'm Amarylis back from the dead. But I'll tell you right now: I'm not the same woman I was before."The guarded, wary look crept back into his eyes. "What do you mean?""Well, obviously I didn't really die; I mean, here I am. What I meant was I've ... changed. Like one of those improved toothpastes. Something new's been added."He looked at her as if she were a science experiment gone horribly awry. "And what would that be?"She shrugged. "I guess we'll find out together. Won't it be fun?""Fun? Fun? You expect us to have fun?""You make it sound like I asked you to jump off the Brooklyn Bridge."He backed away from her. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about."She winced. "Yeah, mentioning the bridge was a mistake. I think?"He surged toward her and grabbed her. His strong fingers bit deep in the fleshy part of her arms. "Have all the goddamn fun you want, but don't drag me into it. Got it?"Tess glared up at him. Enough was enough, damn it. In the past week she'd been hit by a bus, given birth, and died. She was trying to make the best of this life, but nothing?nothing?said she had to let this man yell at her.

She wrenched out of his arms. "It's about time to set some rules, Jack."

He drew back. "Huh?""Good comeback. Now, are you going to hit me?"Surprise registered in his eyes. "Now?"

"Ever.""I've never hit a woman."She eyed him suspiciously. "Are you trying to be evasive?""No. Goddamn it, you know I'm not going to hit you."She stepped closer, staring dead into his eyes. "Then quit trying to scare me. It won't work. I'm doing my best to help out this family, and damn it, I expect you to put forth a little effort, too. Okay?"He stared at her, too stunned to reply. "Okay?" she repeated.

His mouth opened?no doubt for a stinging retort?then snapped shut with a click of teeth. Anger crawled in a red wash up his throat. "I'm leaving."He pivoted away from her and surged through the open door, slamming it shut behind him.

Tess sighed and crossed her arms, staring hard at the closed door. That hadn't gone too well.

Suddenly this lifetime stretched out before her like an endless, waterless desert. If she didn't do something, she'd spend sixty years fighting with Jack. Just the thought was enough to make a calm, levelheaded scientist go mad. She should have picked the spaceman.

Katie stared up the hill at the schoolhouse. The clapboard wooden structure sat alone amidst a stand of just-greening trees. Kids ran back and forth in front of the woodpile in a game of tag. High-pitched giggles peppered the air. A few horses?owned by families who could afford to let their kids ride to school?stood tied along the three-slatted wooden fence that bordered the yard.

Katie slowed down. Her fingers curled in a death grip on the wire handle of her lard tin. The cold metal bit into her sweaty palm.

"It's all right, Katie," Savannah whispered. "They won't laugh at you."They both knew it was a lie; knew they would laugh at her.

Katie bit down hard on her lower lip to keep it from trembling. Tears stung her eyes as she stumbled along beside her sister.

It don't matter what those dumb old kids think anyway.

But it did matter. It mattered more than anything.

She clung to Savannah's hand and kept moving, trying to be grown-up, trying not to be afraid.

If only she weren't so stupid. Then everything would be okay. The kids wouldn't laugh at her. Her mama would love her. The teacher?

"Are you ready to go in?"

Savannah's voice cut through Katie's thoughts. She yanked her head up and found that they were almost there. Anxiety spilled through her blood like ice water.

She turned to her sister. "I don't feel so good, Vannah. Maybe I should go home."Savannah dropped to her knees and touched her sister's cheek. "Aw, Katie ..."She flung herself into her sister's arms. Savannah hugged her tightly, stroking her hair and mumbling soft, soothing words of love. Savannah drew back and looked up at her. Katie did her very best not to cry. Tears burned behind her eyes and blurred her vision, but not one slipped past her lashes. It was a trick all the Raffertys had learned. "I-I'm fine." She rubbed her sweaty palms on the nubby wool of her skirt and clutched her strapped-up school-books to her chest.

Savannah got slowly to her feet. Hand in hand they climbed the creaking steps and opened the schoolhouse door. The tired whine of the hinges drew every eye. A dozen small heads cocked in their direction. Shivering, Katie drew back.

Savannah laid a comforting hand on her shoulder and held her in place. "I'm right here," she murmured soothingly.

Katie made a beeline for her desk. The small, sturdy heels of her heavy leather walking boots clicked loudly on the planked floor. With each footfall, the rising cadence of giggling nipped at her self-confidence. She moved faster, her schoolbooks bolted to her chest, her gaze nailed to the wood beneath her feet.

She sidled into the steel-backed chair with an audible sigh. Savannah eased in beside her. The comforting warmth of her sister's body gave Katie the courage to set her things on the desk in front of her. With trembling fingers, she unstrapped her books and pulled McGuffey's First Eclectic Reader out from beneath her math primer. The small brown book nearly disappeared into the scarred wood of the desk.

Katie wished fervently that it would really and truly disappear.

In the front of the room, Miss Ames rapped sharply on her desk and stood up. "Let's begin by reading aloud."Katie squeezed her eyes shut. In her lap, her fingers crossed tightly, then curled into fists. Please don't pick me. Please don't?

"Susan Jacobs, why don't you begin? Page nine of the reader."Katie's breath expelled in a sharp sigh of relief. She opened her eyes slowly and turned to page nine. She stared hard at the paper, trying to read along with Susan.

It was impossible. The black ink swirled and danced and changed positions. Letters were meaningless, melting together to form words that weren't words. Sentences that were pure gibberish. Not a single word that Susan read appeared on Katie's page.

Tears burned her eyes. What was wrong with her? She tried so hard?harder than anyone else in the class. Every night she hurried to her room right after supper and studied the mishmash of letters in her primer. Every night she failed, and miserably, to make sense of even one word.

"Thank you, Susan, that was very good. Now, how about you, Mary Katherine? Will you pick up where Susan left off?"Katie's head snapped up. A wordless, aching "no" slipped past her lips.

Miss Ames leaned slightly forward, waiting. Every student turned to look at Katie.

She felt Savannah's hand on her bent elbow and knew her sister was trying to comfort her. But it wasn't working; not now. She was too cold to feel even the meager warmth of Savannah's touch.

She swallowed thickly and forced her gaze downward.

The yellowed pages blurred before her eyes. She blinked rapidly, swiped the moisture from her eyes.

You can do it this time. You can.

She stared hard at the first word: h-T-e.

Panic sucked at her, made her heartbeat thud in her ears. h-T-e m-n-a h-a-s a n-e-p.

She mouthed the first word, but knew before the effort that it was no word at all. She tried again, focusing on each letter.

Kids started whispering. The sound of laughter penetrated her concentration. She knew it was probably all in her imagination?Savannah had told her that a dozen times?but she could never make herself believe it. The giggling sounded so real. So close.

She jerked her head up and stared wildly around. Countless eyes stared back at her. Sally Burman's skinny lips were curved in a triumphant smile.

Katie lurched unsteadily to her feet and whirled away from the wobbly desk. Tears of shame and frustration coursed down her face and burrowed into her mouth. They felt warm and wet and salty. Like failure. "Katie!"She ignored her sister's call and ran as fast as she could. Blasting through the door, she hurtled down the creaking steps and kept running.

Savannah scooped up the books strewn across her desk and stood up. "I'll go get her, Miss Ames." "Me, too!"Before Savannah could respond, Jeffie Peters was standing beside her.

She looked at him. He looked at her. A confusing rush of emotions hurtled through Savannah, sparking a flood of heat across her cheeks.

"Y-Yuh want me t' carry them books for yah?" he stammered.