Connection thru Time (Editing)

Chapter Five: I See You

Frank liked the musical sound of her voice. "I'm not sure I know what the hell you're talking about. How does time warp? You're in my house—at least it looks like my house. That hook on the wall is where I have a nail. That table by the tub I don't have, and I sure as hell don't roll my towels or have a stick with a ball on the end to wash my back. Mine's a brush."

"It's called a back-brush."

He sulked for a moment looking at her through the mirror. Because of the way he sat on the edge of the tub, she could tell he was tall and wiry. He wore dirty work pants with suspenders over a plaid shirt, which had the long sleeves rolled up on his forearms.

"Do you have a name? Could it be Frank Davis?"

He crossed his arms over his chest, and his brows drew together. "How'd you know that?"

"It's your house, isn't it? That's how I know."

She studied his appearance. His hair looked brown, and it was cut in a military-style like the sailors and marines still cut theirs. However, it looked like it had grown out a little. The length on top was much longer, and the sides too.

Because it was dim on his side, she couldn't tell what color his eyes were. But she could tell he hadn't shaved that square jaw in a couple of days. She compared his nose to that of the statue Michael Angelo's David. It was thin, straight, and it fit his face. His lips were very kissable. That thought had her admitting how handsome he was. Was he married yet? She wondered.

"Lady, I know we haven't met before, yet you know this is my house. It looks like you're in it too, but it's different. How's that possible?"

"That's not easy to explain to you and have you believe it. You live in a different time than I do. I'm Abby Frasier, and I moved into your house today because I'm renting it from your great-great-grandson, who manages it."

"Good God Almighty! You're damn serious, aren't you? Is that why I can only see you through a mirror?" He shook his head at his own question. It was all nuts, but he could see her, and they were talking.

"Mr. Davis, what year are you living in right now?"

His head jerked up to look at her. "I thought you knew. It's September of 1921." He felt his hand shake. "What year is it for you?"

"September 2021."

He stared at her as if she had two heads. "You're telling me you come from a hundred years in the future, and you're living in my house?" He swallowed hard. "That means I'm dead, and I'm a ghost." He reached down and pinched himself. "I felt that." He banged on the tub, and it rang out. "Hear that? I'm no ghost, Lady."

"My name is Abby, and I'd appreciate it if you would use it instead of calling me lady all the time. How old are you?"

"I was born in the fall of 1895. Why would that be important? You look like you're in your twenties."

"I was born in April of 1995. Did you build this house by yourself?"

"Yes, right after the war."

"You were in the Navy aboard a battleship, Charlie told me."

"What does this have to do with us talking through a mirror?"

She shrugged. "Nothing. History fascinates me."

"History? I haven't been home that long." He shook his head. "I don't think I'm ready to hear what the future holds."

"I don't blame you. The good news is that you won't need to fight in another World War."