Recalling Reality

Chapter 28

Nothing is right, and I have no idea where to go. If Shane's house wasn't Shane's house, and Mom's condo isn't Mom's condo, then who else was left?

Granny. Granny could be the one I run to. She would know what's going on. So, I climb back in my truck and drive back to Kenosha to 22nd Ave and pull into her driveway, right behind a brand new Jeep.

Granny didn't have a Jeep, but I guess, at this point, everything is possible. I knock on the front door, which is still red and the same as what it always has been. No one answers, so I knock two more times.

The door finally opens and Granny is there, her hair a little grayer than I remember. But, at least, it is Granny's house still.

"Hannah? Your mother has been worried sick. Where have you been?" Her dark hazel-chocolate mixture eyes focuses on me and she cups my arm to pull me into her home.

"I was at her house and there is some different woman living there. I went to Shane's too, but... Something isn't right. Something is very, very wrong." My eyes burn as I follow her through the house and into the kitchen where we would always sit and have our talks. "I don't know what's going on, Granny."

"Your mother called me and she's been looking for you. You went over to Taylor's and he tried talking to you, but you just left. We are all searching for you." She fixes me a cup of tea, with two scoops of sugar to be exact, but I don't drink tea. I never have.

"Have you seen Ryan? Or Shane? Or am I just dreaming of those guys also?"

Her bustling at the sink stops and her eyes come back to me. The coloration fades leaving behind the tender tint of makeup she always wears. "Hannah? Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"No! I'm not okay! Something is very wrong with me!" I ball my fists and search the cup of tea for answers. Instead, my eyes heat up with the tears and a heavy, sticky lump settles in my throat. "There is something very wrong and I can't figure it out."

"Start at the beginning." She fixes herself a cup of coffee and takes a seat across the table from me.

"I wake up this morning in a strange house, with clothes... I have no idea whose they were, and they were smaller than I ever have worn. But, I put them on anyway and I run out of the house. There's a new truck in the driveway, and..." I glance at the dining room entryway to assure there is no one else there with me. I turn back to her watching the confusion liter her beautiful aging face. "It has my name on the dealer tag in the window. But, it's not my name. It's my first name, but not my last."

"You woke up in a strange house? Did you go out or something last night?" She picks up her coffee cup and takes a sip in order to process the new evidence.

"No. That's the thing. The last thing I remember is being in the hospital. Or, at Quinn's wedding reception." The tears burst free and my heart is damn near beating out of my chest. "Did Quinn hit me with his car?"

"Hannah, take a deep breath and calm down." Reaching across the table, she takes my hand in hers. "That was five years ago."

"Five... Years... Ago?" I shake my head. I was just in the hospital not that long ago. My answering of questions was to blink to yes and no questions. I was able to talk, but not very well. And then I woke up in the strange house. How could that be five years ago?

This had to be a dream. Or me working on another novel.

That's it. I am working on another novel. I am just day dreaming and any second, I would wake up to see that I am in front of my computer, tying away.

But, I am not waking up.

And I am in someone else's clothing.

And driving a truck that is not mine. Well, it has my first name, but not my last.

Shane's last name was Bartholomew. What if he married a woman named Hannah? That could be possible. We just had the same first name, and she was smaller than me. I could have been over at their place for something and fallen asleep. Did Shane get married, or was he already before I met him?

We had something, and it was strong. I love him and he loves me. We spent the weekend at that amazing hotel where we had our own private pool. We made love in that room that was overlooking our private paradise. He. Loves. Me.

"I need to call Ryan. He will straighten this out for me." I stand and retreat to the cupboard where Granny always keeps her address and phone book. Ever since I was a little girl, and that I could remember, that was always where she kept phone numbers and addresses written down. Old school style. And Ryan's had to be in there.

I flip it open to the P's and right away, there is Ryan Prescott. Using the sticky pad and pen, I jotted down his address and phone number. Ryan was a damn good guy, and more of a friend than anyone I've ever known. He will tell me that this is all a dream, or mistake, or whatever this was.

Making my way through the house, I pause at the living room door and look back at the ghastly woman following me. "Where are your furry beasts?"

"You are really beginning to scare me, Hannah."

Shaking it off, I flee from the house and slide into the truck. I had Ryan's address, and I was going to get my answers. Using the GPS in the truck, I follow the directions and pull into a small, quiet trailer park on the outskirts of Kenosha, a few miles west of the interstate.

Parking in front of the older style home, I jump out and jog up the wooden porch. The grill had some dried rain splatter on the cover, but that wasn't anything unusual. I knock.

And nothing.

I knock again.

And still no answer.

I cup my hand around my eyes to shield the evening sun. But, it doesn't help. I am not able to see inside the little glass window. Ryan must be working, as I am sure he was at the zoo or the airport with some clients.

"Is there a problem, ma'am?"

I turn around and I am being greeted by a young man wearing a blue police uniform, complete with handcuffs, a gun, and a shiny badge on his chest. His patrol car is parked behind my truck, though his lights are not flashing. "This is where a friend of mine lives. I am looking for him."

"Ma'am, I need you to come with me, please." He holds his hand out, and waves his fingers at me.

"I'm serious. Maybe I have the wrong house. I am looking for Ryan Prescott. He lives here. I just..." I look back at the house and my eyes heat up with tears. "He lives here. He is my friend."

"I need you to come with me." His hand is back to his side, resting on the handle of his sidearm.

"Look, I am sorry. I woke up at this house... I don't remember where it is. But, the name on the truck is Hannah Bartholomew. I'm Hannah Janderowski, though, I know a Bartholomew and I am sure he can clear this up." I step away from the door and release my pent up breath. Arguing with the cops is not something I ever did. And this guy wasn't going to listen to me, until Ryan came home to tell him that I can be there.

I just need to talk to Ryan. Ryan was great at clearing the airways. Just like he did with Shane when the blonde bitch tried to weasel her way into our lives. He was there when I needed that friend while Shane was able to sort everything out.

Wasn't he?