Chapter 14

14

JULY 9, 1927 SAINT PAUL, MINNESOTA

For the second time in two days, I found myself on the electric streetcar, traveling from Minneapolis to Saint Paul. It was Saturday, which meant that Lewis was likely off duty. I had never been to his home but had found his address in Mother's address book. He lived on Grand Avenue in the Summit Hill neighborhood, which was a fashionable part of Saint Paul full of expensive shopping and beautiful homes. Which begged the question, How did Lewis afford to live in such a nice neighborhood on a policeman's salary?

I didn't want to think of what he told me about the crooked policemen in Saint Paul, or where he might be getting some extra cash.

It was still early, but I could not wait to speak to him. Ever since I'd learned the news that my mother in 1727 could also be alive in 1927, I had thought of little else—except, perhaps, Marcus.

I switched cars at Snelling Avenue and rode for a short distance until I reached Grand. The street was filled with people shopping, strolling along the tree-lined sidewalks, and breakfasting in cafes. Though it was early, it was already hot and humid.

When the streetcar stopped at the corner of Grand Avenue and Dale Street, I exited, happy to leave the cramped quarters behind. I had to backtrack a couple of blocks to reach 581 Grand Avenue, but when I did, I was pleased to find an attractive two-story apartment building made of brown brick with white cornices and trim work. I hoped Lewis was home and that I could find a way to convince him to help me look for Annie Barker.

More than anything, I wanted to prove the criminal wasn't my mother and that I would find another Annie Barker from Texas. But I needed help, and Lewis would have access to that information. I could have asked Thomas, but he would still be angry with me.

I crossed Grand Avenue and walked up the concrete steps to the front door, looking over my shoulder before letting myself into the building. If someone learned that I had visited a single man at his home, the gossip could hurt Father's reputation as much as it could hurt mine. But this couldn't wait.

It was only a little cooler inside as I walked down the hallway to apartment number three.

Even though I'd known Lewis most of my life, it still felt odd to visit him at his home. Alone. But after yesterday and going to Nina Clifford's brothel with him, this wouldn't be the most shocking thing I'd ever done.

With a firm rap, I knocked on his door and then stepped back to wait, hoping no one would find me in the hallway.

It took a few moments, but I could hear the sliding of a lock, and then the door opened.

Lewis stood on the other side holding a bowl of cornflakes, his face unshaven and his hair mussed, as if he'd recently woken up. He was wearing a pair of trousers, a simple white undershirt, and suspenders. His feet and arms were bare.

He looked surprisingly handsome.

"Carrie!" he said with both shock and pleasure. "What are you doing here?"

I had never seen him in such a state of undress—at least, not since we were young and had gone swimming at a lake near our home. But he'd only been a boy then, and not the man standing before me.

"I—" My cheeks were flaming, and I was more flustered than I anticipated. "May I come in?"

"Let me put on a shirt." He set his bowl on a nearby table and left the door open, disappearing into the back room.

I cautiously entered his home, closing the door behind me in case someone would come along and see me there.

His apartment wasn't very large, which was why he could probably afford it on his salary. But it was tidy and comfortable. To the left of the main room was a kitchen, and to the right were two doors. Lewis had gone into one, which I presumed was the bedroom, and the other was open, revealing a small bathroom.

I stood in the parlor, clutching my purse, though I didn't regret coming. I needed to find Annie Barker, and I didn't care what it would take.

A few minutes later, Lewis reappeared wearing a white button-down shirt, which he had tucked into his trousers. His suspenders were now over the shirt, and he was wearing socks and shoes. His brown hair had also been combed—but he hadn't taken the time to shave.

"Have a seat," he said as he picked up his cereal bowl and a stack of newspapers and brought them to the kitchen. "Would you like something to drink or eat?"

"No, thank you." I sat on the edge of the sofa, trying not to fidget with my purse. Instead, I set it on the coffee table and clasped my hands on my lap.

When Lewis returned to the parlor, he seemed uncertain about where to sit—next to me on the sofa or on the nearby chair? Finally, he sat on the chair and asked, "What are you doing here, Caroline?"

"I need a favor."

"Oh." He leaned back in his chair, obviously disappointed. "Do you need help getting rid of Alice?"

"No—yes—but that's not why I'm here." I licked my dry lips, wishing I had taken his offer for something to drink. How would I explain this request? "I need help finding someone."

His frown deepened. "Who?"

I nibbled my bottom lip and then blurted out, "Annie Barker."

A dozen questions crossed his face before he asked, "Annie Barker, the criminal?"

"Yes." I shook my head. "No."

"What do you mean?"

"I need to know if there is more than one Annie Barker from Texas."

"Why?"

"I'm looking for someone with that name, but I'm hoping the one I'm looking for isn't the criminal."

He was quiet for another moment, and then his serious expression softened. He joined me on the sofa and began to laugh. "If you wanted to come and see me, you could have come up with a better excuse."

My lips parted in surprise, and I backed away from him. "You think I'm teasing?"

"You must be. What in the world would you need with Annie Barker? She's one of the most wanted women in America. Even if you were serious, and we needed to find her, it would be almost impossible. No one can find her. That's why she's wanted."

"I'm hoping that the Annie Barker I need isn't the criminal," I reminded him. "That's why I want your help. I've never been more serious in my life, Lewis."

His face sobered, and he frowned. "Why do you need to speak to someone named Annie Barker?"

I could no longer sit, so I stood and walked to the window. The apartment had a view of the side lawn and the apartment building next door. "I can't tell you. But I promise I have a good reason."

He joined me near the window. "If you truly want my help, I need to know why you want to talk to her."

"You wouldn't believe me, even if I told you."

He crossed his arms and said, "Try me."

Unlike Marcus, I had known Lewis for years, but I still didn't know if he'd believe me.

"Please don't laugh," I said.

Lewis took a step closer to me, his voice lowered. He put his hand on my shoulder. "What's wrong? I've never seen you like this before."

"I'm desperate, Lewis, and you're the only person who might help."

He took my hand, much like he had yesterday, and drew me to the sofa where he sat beside me. And like yesterday, he didn't let it go. "What is it, Carrie?"

I had to tell him the truth or there was no way he'd help me. Before yesterday, I wasn't sure I could have told Lewis about my second life, but telling Marcus had made it easier.

"You're going to think I'm insane, but I promise this is true." I took a deep breath. "I have two lives, Lewis. This one—and one in 1727." I explained to him how it worked and how I woke up each day in a different life. I told him about my mother and what I had learned from Mary about her name in 1927.

I told him everything—but I didn't tell him about Marcus, or how much I had come to care for a pirate.

Lewis never looked away from me as I spoke. I could see confusion and even doubt in his gaze, but he listened intently, probably like he did when he was questioning a witness. He didn't laugh or chastise or scoff.

"If it's true," he said slowly, "how is it possible?"

"I'm not sure. It's always been this way, ever since I can remember."

"You're telling me that the entire time we were growing up, you were living two lives at the same time?"

"Yes."

"What do your parents say?"

Until then, I hadn't realized he was still holding my hand. I drew it away and began to fiddle with the fold in my skirt. "I tried telling them when I was little, but they accused me of lying, and I was told to keep quiet."

"I'm sorry to hear that. But do you truly think you were cursed by a grandmother in Salem?"

"I don't know. That's why I need to find the right Annie Barker. She is the only person who might answer my questions."

"What if you were able to find her—which would be almost impossible if she is the criminal—and she has no more information than you?"

I didn't even want to think about that possibility. "It's a risk I must take. I need to know who I am—or what I am." I was quiet for a moment and then said, "Do you believe me, Lewis?"

He took a deep breath and then let it out. "I've never known you to lie, and I don't know why you would make up such a strange story, so I have no choice but to believe you."

Something broke inside me, and I leaned into him. He paused for only a heartbeat and then put his arms around me, drawing me into his embrace.

"Thank you," I whispered. But I quickly realized I was far too vulnerable to remain in his arms—alone—in his apartment, so I gently pulled away.

He tentatively reached for my hand again, and this time I was conscious of his skin against mine. The moment had become too serious, and I didn't like it when Lewis was serious.

"Carr—"

"Will you help me?" I asked as I pulled my hand away. I didn't want him to say something to make either of us uncomfortable. "Will you investigate and find out if there is more than one Annie Barker?"

He clasped his hands together and nodded, defeat in the slope of his shoulders. "Of course."

"Thank you." I tried to smile. "And promise me you won't tell anyone what I've said about—about why I need to find Annie. I don't think anyone will understand or believe me, and I wouldn't want to bring shame or embarrassment upon my family."

"I won't."

Neither one of us spoke for a moment, but when Lewis tried to reach for my hand again, I quickly stood and said, "Thank you. I'm sorry for showing up unannounced. I suppose I'll always be the annoying little sister at heart."

The look he gave me made me regret my choice of words immediately.

Lewis Cager did not see me as an annoying little sister, not anymore—perhaps he never had.