Bridge Across Time1
“So what brings you to see me today?” Dr. Christiansen asked.2
Rebecca tore her gaze from the diplomas that hung neatly on the wall. She squirmed in her seat, feeling ridiculous. No one knew she was here, not even Mark. 3
“Well....I’m having some trouble in my relationship,” she said.4
“Are you married?”5
“No. I have a boyfriend. We live together.”6
“I see. Go on,” he indicated with a wave of his hand.7
“I don’t trust him and I don’t know why.” She twisted her bracelet back and forth on her wrist; the soft jingling of the charms somehow calmed her nerves. “Mark - my boyfriend - he’s great. He’s never given me any reason to doubt him, but I do. I’m always suspicious when he comes home late or if I can’t reach him on the phone. I’ve accused him of cheating on me and I don’t have a shred of proof. I’ve tried....you know... regular therapy, but it hasn’t helped.” She quickly tucked a strand of long, dark hair behind her ear. “He’s completely fed up with me, and if I don’t get a handle on this it’s going to ruin our relationship.”8
“You say he has given you no cause for concern, so why do you think you don’t trust him? Has there been infidelity in any of your past relationships?” he asked, as he jotted notes on a pad of paper.9
“No--none. And I was never jealous in any of my other relationships. Why now? It makes no sense. There is really no reason why I should feel this way."10
Dr. Christiansen paused in his note-taking. “There’s always a reason for one’s behaviour. Ordinarily those reasons are apparent, but sometimes not. In cases such as this - where the cause is unclear - it helps to undergo hypnosis. It can help uncover lost memories that you may have repressed which might be causing your current behaviour. These memories could be from your childhood, or perhaps from a past life.”11
She wasn’t certain if she believed in reincarnation, or the power of hypnosis for that matter, but her friend Jeanine had been treated by Dr. Christiansen and cured of panic attacks that she had been having for the past four years. Three sessions with him had done for Jeanine what conventional therapy and prescription medication could not. Inspired by her friend’s success, Rebecca decided to try it, hoping it would resolve her problem. Now she wasn’t so certain. 12
“What if I can’t be hypnotised?” she asked.13
“Most people can reach a state of hypnosis; however some people are more susceptible than others. It may take more than one session. Are you willing to give it a try?” 14
“Okay.....let's give it a shot.” At this point she was willing to try anything, no matter how crazy. 15
Dr. Christiansen had her lie on a sofa nestled in the corner of his office. Rebecca closed her eyes as he dimmed the lights. The suede cushions felt soft and warm against her skin and despite herself, she began to relax, breathing slowly as she focused on his voice.16
“.....lighter than a feather......floating above the clouds.....”
The words seemed to come from further away as she drifted deeper and deeper, soothed by the tone of his voice. 17
“Let’s go back to the time when you first learned to mistrust. What do you see?” 18
***19
Salem 169220
“Mary Easty has been arrested on suspicion of witchcraft!”21
Bridget Bishop looked up from her sewing; her maid Tamauran had just stumbled through the door, carrying a basket of produce. She stood in front of Bridget, her white cap askew and her breath ragged from running. 22
“I just came from the market. Susanna Martin told me the news.”23
“‘tis utter nonsense,” Bridget scowled. 24
“Ann Putnam is her accuser. She says that last night the spectre of Mary Easty appeared in her room and began choking her. When Ann cried out in the name of the Lord, Goody Easty cursed her in a strange language then flew out the window!” 25
Bridget scoffed, “If it was spoken in a strange language how could Ann know it was a curse?”26
Tamauran shrugged her shoulders and rushed on, “I know not, but Abigail Williams has also been afflicted. She says that Mary Easty caused her to have fits after Abigail saw her reading from the Devil’s book!” 27
Bridget returned to her stitching with quick, angry strokes. “Those girls cry witch and the entire town goes mad! ‘Tis naught but the overactive imaginings of three foolish and, I daresay, malicious young girls.” 28
At that moment Bridget’s husband, Edward entered the room, buttoning his tunic. He gave Bridget a perfunctory kiss on the cheek and nodded at Tamauran. “Good day, Tamauran,” he said. 29
Tamauran bent her head and answered shyly, “Good day sir.” 30
“Now what is this I am hearing about Mary Easty being accused of withcraft? I wonder how many more shall be arrested before someone puts an end to this madness?” Edward asked, as he plucked an apple from the basket of produce Tamauran was holding. Tamauran’s dark face flushed with colour as she watched him polish the apple on his tunic. “When shall the magistrates examine her?” Edward continued.31
“On the morrow, sir. I believe the whole town shall turn out to witness the proceedings,” Tamauran answered, averting her gaze. 32
Bridget finished her mending and stood, folding the garments. “Well I for one shall not attend,” she said. She noticed her maid’s sudden shyness, and thought it odd. Tamauran had worked in their household for six months and was the furthest thing from timid. If anything, she was too outspoken for a servant, but Bridget admired that quality as she was often considered too forthright herself. “Tamauran, whatever is the matter with you? Edward does not bite,” she said. 33
Tamauran looked up, surprised, and opened her mouth to respond, but Edward interrupted.34
“Bridget, I am leaving for the sawmill. Will you be going to the tavern?” Bridget owned a tavern in town which she inherited from her second husband, Thomas Oliver, who died suddenly two years prior. At the time, some of the townspeople speculated that Bridget had witched him to death and, although the accusation was never proven, many still believed it.35
“Yes, I shall be leaving shortly. I shan’t be home for dinner. Tamauran, please have dinner ready for Mr. Bishop when he returns from the mill. 36
“Yes, ma’am,” Tamauran said, her face still flushed. 37
Bridget donned her cloak and left the house, walking down the path toward the tavern. On the way she passed Margaret Scott and Sarah Willard, heading toward the market.38
“Good day to you, Goody Scott--and to you also, Goody Willard,” she said, nodding to the two women, both of whom frowned disapprovingly at the bright red corset Bridget wore.39
“Good day to you, Goody Bishop,” Margaret Scott responded coolly.40
Sarah Willard merely nodded, her lips tightly pinched. 41
All too aware of their contempt for her, Bridget straightened her spine and continued on her way. 42
“Shameful! Look at the way she prances about in that red corset!" Sarah said, "‘Tis unseemly."43
“No more unseemly than entertaining young men ‘til all hours of the night!” Margaret said, annoyed because her son was among the group of young men who spent hours drinking and playing shovel board in Bridget’s tavern.44
She heard them discussing her. Their words stung, but she had heard these sentiments before. Bridget was not like the other women in Salem: she possessed an innate sexuality that vied with the repressed views of traditional Puritan women; and the bright colours she chose to wear only enhanced this disparity. It didn't help that she was hot tempered and outspoken and often fought publicly with Edward-- something which offended the sensibilities of many of Salem’s residents. None of these attributes had won Bridget many friends. 45
***46
“Ah Bridget, you are a beauty.” 47
“Samuel Jacobs you have had too much to drink this night,” Bridget scolded.48
“’Tis not the drink that affects me, but your blue eyes.”49
“Pay no attention to the lad Bridget, after four mugs of ale, he says the same thing to me,” said William Hayes. The burly man lightly punched Samuel on the shoulder. Samuel turned four shades of red.50
Bridget laughed at the two men. She was used to this attention from her customers and she considered it nothing more than innocent flirtation.
She was pouring William another mug of ale, and laughing at his ribald jokes, when the tavern door flew open with a bang. Bridget looked up to see Elizabeth Hayes standing in the doorway, hands on her hips, eyes blazing.51
“William! You get yourself home! There are chores left undone, and you sit here drinking and carousing with that harlot!” she pointed at Bridget accusingly. “And you-” she said to Bridget, “you corrupt the men of this town with your brazen manner. You should be ashamed of yourself!” 52
No one spoke to Bridget like that in her own tavern. “If you cared less about the chores, and more about keeping your man happy, maybe he would not be so willingly corrupted.” she responded.53
William stood, both hands raised in mock surrender. “Keep your peace, woman,” he growled at Elizabeth, “I am coming.” He slapped Samuel on the back and nodded farewell to Bridget. Elizabeth practically shoved William out the door, then shot one last dark look at Bridget before storming out.54
The tavern was at full capacity and all eyes were on Bridget. Although she knew she had done nothing wrong, she felt mortified. Her mood was spoiled; she wanted to go home.55
“Finish your drinks, boys, I am closing early this night.” The crowd groaned, but did as they were told. When the last man had left, she donned her cloak and locked up, sighing as she headed back on the trail toward home, troubled, but glad that she would have dinner with Edward that night.
Dinner at home was a rare occurrence. Running the tavern took up most of Bridget’s time and she scarcely ever dined at home. It was something she and Edward quarrelled about a great deal. He felt she should be home, tending to him, not pouring drinks for the men of Salem. In truth, he had become quite resentful in the past couple weeks, keeping her at arm’s length, spurning her advances. Bridget loved Edward deeply, but she also loved the independence that owning the tavern afforded her, and she refused to give that up for any man, even Edward. She believed he would come around eventually.56
When she arrived home she noticed there was no one about downstairs and most of the house was dark. She thought it strange that Tamauran did not have dinner on the table. She looked in the sitting room, but it was empty and the oil lamp on the side table was nearly out. She lit a candle in the kitchen and started up the stairs towards the bedroom, the flame flickering as she walked. As she approached the room she heard muffled sounds coming from the other side of the closed door. A feeling of dread filled her chest, but she reached for the knob. As she touched the cold metal she paused for a moment, knowing what she would find on the other side. The door creaked when it opened, but the two figures wrapped in each others’ arms were oblivious, even while their shadows, cast by the bedside candle, silently mocked her. 57
At first she just stood there, mesmerized by the sight of light skin pressed against dark. Her mind reeled. In shock, and unsure of what to do, she started to turn back toward the door, but her hands were shaking and she dropped the candle. This time the lovers heard the noise. Tamauran screamed and Edward shoved her away, grabbing for the pants he had discarded on the floor. 58
“Bridget....” he was hastily pulling on his pants and reaching for her.
A strangled sound escaped her throat as she ran out of the room and down the stairs. She heard Tamauran wailing and Edward yelling at her to shut up as he struggled to catch up to Bridget. 59
He found her in the sitting room, standing near the window, looking out. She heard his footsteps but never turned his way when he approached. 60
“How long has this been going on?” she asked quietly, still in shock.61
“Bridget....”62
“How long?” 63
“I cannot say for sure. A...a couple weeks, I think.”64
“I see.” 65
“Bridget....” Edward begged, “Bridget, please, listen to me. She seduced me. Before I realized what was happening she was in my bed. I think she witched me! You know I would never do anything like this.”66
She gave a mirthless laugh and said, “Pack your things and get out, Edward.”67
“What shall people think when you turn me out? They cannot know I was with a coloured woman, Bridget. Think of my reputation. Think of my future!” He grabbed her roughly by her shoulders, turning her around to face him. The floorboards creaked, and out of the corner of her eye she saw that Tamauran had entered the room, sniffling quietly.68
Bridget looked up at him, tears in her eyes. “When people in Salem find out that you bedded a coloured woman, Edward, you shan’t have much of a future,” she said coldly.69
“We can send her away. No one has to know about this. Just say the word and she’s gone,” he begged.70
She noticed his hair was dishevelled and his lips were swollen from lovemaking, and she struggled against the bile rising in her throat. Just the thought of them together made her feel sick. “You disgust me,” she said. “Get out and take her with you.” 71
“Bridget....please,” he said, waving his arms imploringly.72
“I said get out!” she yelled, pointing toward the door.73
Tamauran began wailing again, and Edward strode angrily across the room, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her towards the exit. He looked back at Bridget and tried once more to change her mind, “Bridget, please....I love you.”74
She picked up the oil lamp from the side table and hurled it at him; glass and oil shattered everywhere as it missed its mark and hit the wall behind him.75
“You shall live to regret this,” he threatened, as he opened the door.76
He nearly slipped in the lamp oil as he led Tamauran out of the house, still holding her arm, slamming the door behind them as he left. Bridget drew a ragged breath and slumped onto a wooden chair, crying until she had no more tears to shed. She sat that way for hours, feeling stupid and humiliated. Of course now the signs were so clear: The awkwardness Tamuaran had suddenly developed around Edward; Edward turning down her advances. She had been naive to think he was merely resentful that she wasn’t home more - the truth was that he simply didn’t want her because he had someone else. It grew late and the only light was from the moon streaming through the window, and still she sat. She sat until darkness gave way to dawn and finally, exhausted, she laid her head on the armrest and fell into a dreamless sleep.77
***78
The sun shone through the window, rousing Bridget as it warmed her face. Her head hurt. She stood slowly, wincing, as her muscles protested against the abuse of sleeping on the chair. She massaged her neck as she glanced out the window, noting that the sun was high. It was midday and the light was painful as it pierced her red, swollen eyes. Bridget welcomed the discomfort for the diversion it offered, brief as it was, but soon enough, and without conscious thought, the night came rushing back like a slap in the face. She held back her tears and looked around the room; it felt so empty. The silence was suffocating. 79
Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Bridget jumped, startled. She thought it was Edward, coming to beg her forgiveness. The notion infuriated her!80
She smoothed her long, dark hair as she walked to the door, took a deep breath and flung it open. It wasn’t Edward. Two men stood on her porch; one of them, the taller one, held a document in his hand. 81
“Bridget Bishop?” the tall man asked. 82
“Yes, what is this about?” 83
“Goody Bishop, we have a warrant for your arrest.”84
“My arrest! On what charge?” 85
“You are accused of witchcraft,” he said.86
She laughed at him. “Witchcraft--are you daft? I am no witch! Who accuses me?”87
“Your husband is your accuser ma’am. And your maid has confirmed his allegations.” 88
“ ’Tis lies. He aims to punish me for his misdeeds!” she said. She knew Edward was desperate to preserve his standing in the community, but to accuse her of witchcraft was madness. Yet it was clever, for who would believe the word of a witch?89
“ ’Tis not just him that accuses you, madam. Others in the township have come forth.”90
Bridget looked past him and saw the jail cart. It was made of long, tall rails similar to the bars of a jail cell and was meant to intimidate. And it did. The reality of the situation was beginning to dawn on her. 91
“’Tis crazy. I am no witch,” she said with less bravado.92
“’Tis for the magistrates to decide, Goody Bishop,” he said. “You must come with us now.”93
The shorter man, who had remained silent during the entire exchange, now moved forward and took her by the arm. He escorted her to the jail cart and helped her up. As the cart jerked forward, she looked back at her house, telling herself that there was nothing to worry about, that she would be back home by the morning. After all, there was no evidence. 94
***95
The courtroom was full. Bridget sat on the prisoners’ bench, looking around, seeing familiar faces everywhere. She noticed Ann Putnam, Elizabeth Parris and Abigail Williams sitting in the front row. Her heart skipped when she saw them. It seemed no one was safe from their accusations. Over to the far left Edward sat with Tamauran. Seeing them together hurt; their betrayal was still fresh. She quickly looked away. 96
Stephen Sewall, court clerk, called the court to order.97
“Here ye, Here ye the court of Oyer and Terminer shall begin. Magistrate William Stoughton presides.”98
William Stoughton stepped up to the bench. He was a portly man with a baritone voice that rang clear throughout the courtroom. 99
“Bridget Bishop, you are hereby charged of having wickedly and feloniously practiced the art of witchcraft within the township of Salem in the county of Essex Sawyer. What say you Goody Bishop?”100
Bridget’s heart was racing. “Not guilty,sir.”101
He looked in the direction of Thomas Newton, crown prosecutor. “State your case, Mr. Newton.”102
Thomas Newton stood, smoothing his wig, and addressed Bridget.103
“Goody Bishop, how long have you had a contract with the devil?” he asked.104
“I have no contract with the Devil, sir. I have never seen the Devil in my life.”105
“What say you to the charges that you are a witch?” 106
“I am no witch. I know not what a witch is.”107
With a flourish he produced several court documents. “Goody Bishop, I hold in my hand sworn affidavits from several of Salem’s finest citizens. Each one of these affirms your participation in the dark arts.” He chose one, examining it quickly, then held it up high to show the courtroom. “This one is signed by your own husband. He alleges that he witnessed you fornicating with the devil, in the woods behind your house. What say you to this charge?” 108
“’Tis false. He lies to cover up his own transgressions,” Bridget said.109
“Tamauran, your maid, has testified that she witnessed you reading from the Devil’s book, madam,” he said, reading from another affidavit.110
“I have never seen the Devil’s book, sir, let alone read from it,” she said. Her mouth was dry. “My husband and my maid are in league and have concocted this entire nonsense.”111
“Then how do you explain the others who have accused you, madam?” Thomas leaned in so closely Bridget could smell his fetid breath. She pulled back.112
“What others? Bring them forth. I did nothing to no one.”113
He straightened up, sorting through the papers, and produced yet another document. “Here is sworn testimony from Margaret Scott who claims to have seen voodoo dolls in your cellar,” he said.114
“Ha! Margaret Scott has never stepped foot in my cellar.”115
“Can you not find it in your heart to tell the truth?” he asked.116
“I do speak the truth, sir. I am innocent of these charges.”117
“Well then, Goody Bishop, what say you on the charge from Ann Putnam, who says that you have afflicted her?” he asked.118
“I daresay Ann Putnam is afflicted by her own conscience.” 119
Immediately Ann Putnam began screaming and squirming in her chair. “Her spectre is hurting me!” she screamed. Abigail Williams and Elizabeth Parris were suddenly afflicted as well. Abigail fell onto the floor, her eyes rolling back into her head. Several people screamed in horror.120
Elizabeth Hayes stood, pointing to the girls. “See the evidence? She is a witch!” she yelled. “Think about it! How many of Salem’s virtuous men has she lured to her tavern? Those men would not be there drinking until all hours if she hadn’t witched them.” Several women nodded in agreement.121
“Four nights ago her spectre attacked me in the middle of the night. She nearly choked me to death!” Sarah Willard cried out.122
“She asked me to join her coven!” another woman shouted above the din.123
“Please believe me sir,” Bridget looked up at Thomas Newton, her eyes tormented, “I am no witch. I am innocent. I have hurt no one,” she said.124
But no one was listening for the entire court room had erupted into a fury. At least half of the women in town came forward testifying that they had witnessed Bridget practicing the dark arts. Their accusations, combined with the spectacle of the three girls writhing on the floor, were Bridget’s undoing.125
By the time the Magistrate brought order to the courtroom, he had reached a decision.126
“Bridget Bishop, wife of Edward Bishop, you are hereby found guilty of the practice of witchcraft by the court of Oyer and Terminer in the county of Essex this second day of the month of June. You are sentenced to hang by the neck until dead..... “127
Bridget fainted.128
By the time she regained consciousness she was back in her cell. Her head still ached. It was completely dark; she couldn’t even see her hands. Something skittered in the corner. Terrified, she scooted back against the stone wall, wrapping her arms around her knees and listening to the sounds coming from the cells of the other accused. There were so many of them, young and old, and almost all of them women. Some were crying while others were talking, trying to reassure one another. Bridget was the first of them to be convicted. There was no reassuring her. 129
The Guard’s door opened. Someone was coming. She couldn’t see who it was, it was too dark, but from the light that entered through the open door she could see it was a man. He turned to his right, grabbed a candle from the table and lit it. It was Edward. She felt a flicker of hope, thinking that maybe he was going to get her out. Perhaps he felt remorseful and had gone to the magistrates, confessing his transgression and insisting that her conviction be overturned. 130
He walked toward her cell, his shoulders slumped. Bridget never moved from her place in the corner but she looked up at him, her large eyes dark and accusing.131
He seemed to be struggling for the right words. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it. Instead, he knelt down and looked at Bridget through the bars, with eyes swollen from crying.132
“Bridget, I am so sorry.” He was finally able to manage, his voice thick with emotion.133
Bridget merely looked at him, for she knew, as soon as she saw his face, he wasn’t there to get her out. She was cold suddenly and began shaking. Edward noticed and took off his cloak, handing it to Bridget between the bars. She didn’t move to take it and he awkwardly laid it on the ground.134
“Bridget, I never meant for this to happen. Things got out of hand.” His eyes welled up when he looked at her. “I just wanted to cast doubt on your word. I did not want anyone to believe you about...about Tamauran. That is all.” 135
“Well it ended as you wished, for no one will ever find out now.” Her voice was cracked and dry. She had not had anything to drink since yesterday. 136
He sobbed quietly, “No, Bridget, ‘tis not what I wanted. I made a mistake. I spoke to the magistrate. I told him I was mistaken, that you were not a witch.” He hung his head miserably. “But he would not listen. He said that too many others had come forth with accusations. There was too much evidence. He said that you had probably witched me to change my testimony. Bridget I tried.....” his voice broke. 137
At last Bridget moved forward, curling her hands around the bar rails, her face pressed close to his. “What do you want me to say, Edward? That I forgive you? You betrayed me not once, but twice. And you want me to ease your conscience?” Her eyes were filled with rage. “You best pray to God for forgiveness because I do not forgive you. I shall never forgive you!” 138
Bridget looked like a wild thing, with her dishevelled hair and dirty dress. He hesitantly reached out to touch her hand, but she pulled it back as if she had been burned. Finally, defeated, he sunk his head and slowly stood up, walking toward the door. 139
“You have killed me Edward! Live with that!” she shouted as he reached the exit.140
He placed the candle on the table, leaving it burn as he walked out the door. 141
***142
Eight days later Bridget was taken to Gallows Hill. Reverend Samuel Parris prayed for her salvation while she stood on the platform, hands tied behind her back, watching the noose swing malevolently before her face. Her legs were shaking and she had begun to sweat. She could hardly fathom that this was really happening. A large crowd had gathered and she swiftly looked around for Edward, but did not see him. She didn’t really expect to. Some of the spectators were growing restless and had begun muttering, calling her a witch and condemning her soul to burn for eternity.143
Thomas Newton raised his hand and the crowd went silent. “Bridget Bishop, you are about to be hanged for the crime of witchcraft. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”144
She stood there looking out at the people, some of whom she had known since she was a girl, seeing their eyes shine in anticipation of her hanging.145
“I am innocent. I am no more a witch than any of you. Those of you who testified against me, for your own selfish purpose, may you burn in hell.”146
The crowd erupted into angry shouts. Someone chanted, “Witch, witch, hang the witch!” and many people took up the chorus.147
The executioner placed the hood over her head, and the crowd went silent. When the noose was placed around her neck, she panicked, screaming, “I am innocent! I am not a witch! I am not a wi-“ 148
The latch was released and the platform gave way. Bridget hung with her legs swinging back and forth like a macabre pendulum. The crowd cheered but death wasn’t instantaneous; she felt the burning pain of the rope around her neck; she felt her lungs struggling for air............”149
***150
1, 2, 3.....Rebecca, you are wide awake.151
Rebecca opened her eyes and looked around wildly, hands around her throat, her heart racing. Relief flooded through her as she realized she was in the hypnotists’ office.152
“Well, it looks like we have made a wonderful breakthrough,” said Dr. Christiansen, slapping his knee exuberantly.153
Rebecca didn’t completely share his enthusiasm. She wasn’t certain how she should feel. Although it was a stunning revelation - discovering this past life - it was also disturbing to learn what had happened to her, and the manner of her death. 154
“It definitely explains why I have trust issues,” she said. “It’s all very surreal. I think I’ll need some time to process this.”155
“Yes of course. Do you think this discovery will help you?” 156
“Yes, I think so. At least now I know my mistrust of Mark has nothing to do with anything he’s done. I feel really good about that. Thank-you so much, Dr. Christiansen.”157
“My pleasure, Rebecca. I realize this can be quite a troubling experience for some people, so please feel free to give me a call if you wish to explore this further, or if you simply need someone to talk to.”158
“I will. Thank-you.”159
Rebecca left his office, her steps light as she headed home, relieved that she could finally let go of her misgivings.160
She entered their apartment building and waited for the elevator, thinking that, since she was home early, she would prepare Mark a romantic dinner. The thought made her smile as she thought of the evening’s possibilities. The elevator door opened. A beautiful black woman stepped off and Rebecca caught a whiff of her perfume - Chanel No. 5. She drew Rebecca’s gaze not only because she was striking, but because there was something vaguely familiar about her, something that stirred the dark corners of her memory. She dismissed the notion the instant she got on the elevator, her thoughts shifting to what she should make for dinner, and whether or not she had washed her little black teddy. 161
The elevator stopped on her floor and Rebecca got off, walking toward their apartment. As she approached the door she felt a sense of déjà vu. A feeling of dread filled her chest but she reached for the knob, telling herself it was just lingering emotion from the hypnosis. She heard the shower running as she opened the door, and thought it odd that Mark was home already. He hadn’t mentioned taking the afternoon off work. She grabbed the mail off the kitchen table, where Mark had tossed it, humming happily as she sorted through the envelopes and flyers. But something kept niggling at the back of her mind, something she couldn’t put her finger on. Then it struck her.
There was a lingering scent in the room, something she recognized all too well. It was Chanel No. 5.
162
Gold trophy winner
Adding your comment:
thank you 
. I'll come back and read this later.
* Sorry, I didn't check to see how many words. All my stories are too long. 
it sounds better to me.
but not enough to switch my spell checker, and this was way too interesting a read 
. So if there are any problems, they are not noticeable enough to distract your readers. 
Geri
