Chapter 7: Looking for a Doctor

I woke with a start, my hand automatically reaching for the warm body that should have been beside me. The sheets were cold and empty. My heart rate spiked as I sat bolt upright, suddenly wide awake.

"Lisa? Emma?" I called out, panic rising in my throat. Had the nun's consciousness reasserted itself overnight? Had she fled in horror at what we'd done? I imagined Sister Margaret waking up naked in a strange man's bed, the memories of our night together missing but the evidence all too clear. She'd go straight to the church. Or worse, straight to the police.

I scrambled out of bed, pulling on a pair of sweatpants. "Emma!" I shouted, louder this time, rushing toward the bedroom door.

The smell hit me before I reached the kitchen—bacon, coffee, something sweet baking. I skidded to a stop in the doorway, relief washing over me in a dizzying wave.

Lisa stood at the stove, her back to me, wearing one of my t-shirts that hung to mid-thigh on her petite frame. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, and she was humming softly to herself as she flipped pancakes with practiced ease.

"You're here," I breathed.

She turned, spatula in hand, and smiled. It was a reserved smile, nothing like the wicked grin Emma had worn when she was Mandy, but it was genuine.

"Of course I'm here. Where else would I be?" She gestured around the kitchen. "I always help with breakfast at the convent. Sister Agnes says I make the best pancakes." She blushed slightly. "Well, Lisa does. I do. You know what I mean."

I moved closer, studying her. In the morning light, she looked even younger than she had yesterday, barely into her twenties. Her face was scrubbed clean, her blue eyes clear and bright. Without the nun's habit, with just my oversized shirt and her bare legs, she looked like any young woman making breakfast for her lover—except for that air of innocence that clung to her like a subtle perfume.

"How are you feeling today?" I asked cautiously. "About… everything that happened?"

The blush deepened, spreading down her neck. "I'd rather not speak of it," she said, turning back to the stove. "It was… it was sinful. What we did." She flipped a pancake with perhaps more **** than necessary.

"Emma—"

"It's fine," she cut me off, her voice softening. "I'm not… I don't regret it. I just…" She sighed, setting down the spatula and turning to face me. "This body, this mind—it's not used to such things. It feels ashamed, even though I know it shouldn't."

She stepped closer, rising on her tiptoes to press a soft kiss to my lips. It was chaste, nothing like the passionate kisses we'd shared last night, but I felt her tremble slightly before she pulled away, looking both pleased and scandalized at her own boldness.

"Goodness," she murmured, touching her lips. "I shouldn't… The Lord sees all." But she didn't look particularly concerned about divine judgment, just slightly flustered.

"Sit," she instructed, gesturing to the table. "Breakfast is nearly ready."

I obeyed, watching as she moved around the kitchen with a grace that seemed both familiar and foreign. She wasn't moving like Emma, who had always been a bit clumsy in the morning. There was a precision to her movements, an economy of motion that spoke of years of disciplined routine.

When she set a plate of perfectly golden pancakes in front of me, along with bacon and fresh coffee, I couldn't help but smile. "This looks amazing."

"Thank you," she said, sitting across from me with her own plate. She bowed her head briefly, murmuring what I assumed was a silent prayer, before picking up her fork.

"I found the note I left here when I was Mandy," she said after a few bites, reaching for a folded piece of paper on the counter. "It was here in the kitchen but I don't remember all the details."

She handed me the paper. On it was scrawled a phone number and a name: Dr. Katherine Winters, Ph.D. Below that were hastily written instructions: "Tell her Mandy says 'you owe me for the clinic.' She'll come."

"I remember writing it. I remember thinking she'd be perfect—she's brilliant, studying neuroscience or something similar. But I don't know what 'the clinic' refers to. That must have been in Mandy's memories, not mine."I frowned, considering our options. "Even if we get her to come here, how do we experiment? We'd need two bodies for you to switch between, and we can't exactly kidnap someone."

"Actually," Emma said, taking a sip of her coffee, "I called Father O'Brien this morning. I told him—well, Sister Margaret told him—that I had a family emergency and needed to stay away from the convent today. He was very understanding."

I stared at her in surprise. "You called him? On what?"

She rolled her eyes, looking suddenly much more like my Emma than the demure nun of a moment ago. "On my smartphone, Calvin. For heaven's sake, what century do you think nuns live in? We're not completely cut off from technology." She grabbed a sleek phone from the counter next to her. "We're encouraged to maintain family connections. We just use them… judiciously."

"Sorry," I said, feeling my face heat. "I just assumed…"

"That we communicate via carrier pigeon and smoke signals?" she teased, a hint of Emma's sarcasm breaking through Sister Margaret's reserve. "The Lord works in mysterious ways, Calvin, including through iPhones."

I laughed, relieved to see this flash of my wife's personality. "So we have you for the day. That's good. But we still need to figure out how to get Dr. Winters here without sounding like complete lunatics."

"And if we start switching between two bodies, the other person will notice." Emma frowned, pushing a pancake around her plate.

Yeah, that was the tricky part. Maybe that doctor could be informed of the situation and be willing to help, but Sister Margaret would definitely go running to the church or the police or both, and that would complicate everything beyond belief. Though, I didn't think we had much of a choice. At some point we'd have to take a risk if we wanted to learn more about what was happening to Emma's consciousness.

I studied the phone number again. "I guess there's only one way to find out..."

Hey there! This was chapter 7 out of 28. I will post two to three chapters a week.

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