Chapter 1

Jay Reynolds stood next to the freshly poured concrete slab. He compared his blueprints to the steel rebar protruding from the floor and nodded in satisfaction. The rain had held off just long enough. His gamble to pour concrete on a day when thunderstorms were predicted would keep him on schedule.

His concrete crew had every reinforcing bar perfectly placed. The block masons would have no trouble locating door and window openings. Jay always paid attention to the details but he wanted this house to be exceptional. It was the hundredth he had built after striking out on his own as a contractor.

Jay thanked his concrete finishers as they packed up to leave. He treated his subcontractors well; after all, they did the work, not him. His philosophy was to treat everyone with respect and expect the same in return. Subs appreciated his efforts and did their best work for him.

The finishers drove off and Jay made a few scheduling notes. He needed to confirm block delivery and let his mason know the house was ready to lay up blocks. Thunder boomed closer but rain wasn’t a problem now, the only area that was still wet was the garage floor and it was covered with plastic.

“Building my one hundredth house,” he reflected, “never in my wildest dreams had the idea of being a builder come up.”

Retired from the Army with a Special Forces background, he had always thought the FBI or DEA would be his future and he had groomed himself for it. But after twenty-five years, four combat tours and the death of his wife, the routine and attention to detail that building a good house required was just what he needed.

Besides, the self-confidence, work ethic, and leadership he developed during his military career gave him an advantage over his civilian competitors.

Those same skills, along with a quick wit and wry sense of humor, served him pretty well with the ladies also. He was okay looking, and still in decent shape, but he knew he was no heartthrob. Yet women, some young enough to be his daughters, were strongly drawn to him.

“If I had known at fifteen, what I know now,” he thought, “I’d have been god’s gift to women.”

Jay shook his head in wonder. His rueful chuckle was the last breath this body ever took.

Jay woke up disoriented. He groggily scanned the area around him trying to take in every detail. He was obviously in a hospital room or, judging from the outdated equipment around him, a clinic of some kind. It was dark outside but the room he was in was fairly well lit. There was an IV pole on his right with a glucose drip suspended from the top and, surprisingly, a half filled catheter bag at the base. Jay’s next surprise came as he was reading the label on the IV bag. The fact that he could read the small print without squinting was news to him as he was far sighted and used reading glasses. He raised his hand to see if he might have dozed off wearing his glasses, surprise number three, that was not his hand!

Jay dropped the hand he raised (he couldn’t call it his yet) and tried to think back to the last thing he remembered before waking in this place. He recalled standing by the newly poured slab and noticing the suddenly darkening sky, then a bright flash and ... holy shit ... he must have been struck by lightening. That explained the hospital, now what about his eyesight and hand. Jay continued looking around the room and noticed a chart hanging at the foot of his bed. With some effort (why was he so weak, he wondered) he reached out his strange new appendage and snagged the clipboard.

He quickly scanned the patient info sheet, “Crap, it’s not even my chart.”

Jay was still reading the chart when the door opened and a young candy striper stepped into the room. The girl took one look at Jay sitting up in the bed, screamed, dropped the blanket she was carrying, spun on her heels, and left the room as if she’d seen a ghost.

“Now this,” Jay said to himself, “is getting stranger by the minute.”

Jay lay back down just before the door burst open and an attractive nurse zoomed into the room.

“You’re awake,” she gushed.

Jay tried to speak but couldn’t.

“Water,” he croaked.

The nurse left and quickly returned with a cup of ice. She put a piece to Jay’s lips and said, “Suck this slowly. I can’t give you anything to drink yet.”

The melting ice felt wonderful as it coated his throat. Jay glanced at the nurse’s nametag and finally found his voice, “Why wouldn’t I be awake, Sara?” he asked.

Sara Douglas answered Jay’s question with one of her own, “You gave Cindy quite a scare. What were you doing when she came in?”

“Reading this chart. It was on my bed and I thought it was mine,” Jay said.

“It is your...” Nurse Douglas started to say, then quickly changed tack, “I need to call Dr. Malone, he’ll explain everything.” Nurse Douglas quickly departed.

Curious behavior. Jay shrugged and began reading again. The chart belonged to a fifteen-year-old boy named Jacob Turner. Jacob was comatose. According to the attending neurosurgeon, there were no indications of higher brain function and the prognosis was not good. Jacob would probably never regain consciousness. He was doomed to be a vegetable.

“Poor kid,” Jay thought. Then his mind quickly shifted to his own situation.

Like the flash he remembered at the job site, reality struck him, “I am in that kid’s body! This has got to be a dream!” His mind filled with questions, Jay pushed the nurses’ call button.

Within seconds, Nurse Douglas entered the room and moved to the bed.

“What’s the matter, Jacob?” she asked.

Theory confirmed.

“How long have I been here?”

“You really need to wait and talk to the doctor,” Sara replied.

Jay took her hand in his and put on what he hoped was a helpless face, “Please,” he said, “I don’t remember anything.”

Sara’s face softened. She pulled up a chair, reclaimed his hand, and asked,

“Exactly what do you remember?”

“That’s what’s so scary,” replied Jay. “I know things but I don’t have any memories, as far as I can tell my life started when I woke up.” Then Jay had another thought. Sara’s hairstyle, her uniform and the room’s equipment were all dated. “What’s the date?” he asked.

“June 2nd, a Saturday,” she replied.

“What year?” he continued.

Sara looked at him sharply, “1971, of course.”

Jay groaned and lay back on the pillow. The coincidence of his last conscious thought and Nurse Douglas’ answer convinced him that this was most definitely some bizarre dream. He would simply go back to sleep and normalcy would return.

Yet, what if it wasn’t a dream? What if he woke up in the same place and had no other choice but to become Jacob? A lot of ifs and no facts, but Jay never worried about things he couldn’t control. If he had to become Jacob Turner, he was thoroughly trained to adapt and overcome.

“I think I need to rest now,” he said.

Sara released his hand, brushed his hair out of his eyes, and left. Jay closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Jay woke up in the same room, early morning sunlight filtering through the window. He turned his head and saw the same pretty Candy Striper sitting by his bed reading a magazine. She glanced up and saw him looking at her. With a squeak, she jumped up and again bolted from the room. Two things were obvious: he truly was Jacob Turner now, and that girl’s behavior was truly strange. Before he could reflect on his new status or Cindy’s problem with him being awake, chaos erupted.

The door to Jake’s room burst open and, like clowns from a circus Volkswagen, people poured in. Leading the parade was an attractive woman who looked like she came off the set of a sixty’s sitcom. She immediately swooped Jake’s head to her bosom.

“Jacob, my baby, I knew you wouldn’t leave me,” she cried, smothering him with kisses.

Next was an older, serious looking man (think Fred McMurray in My Three Sons).

“Welcome back, Son,” he said and extended his hand for Jake to shake.

Two teenaged girls stood behind the older couple eyeing him warily Jake assumed the couple were his parents and the girls might be his sisters.

Figuring he had nothing to lose, Jake said “Mom, Dad it’s good to see you. Can I have some water, please?”

All four of the new arrivals gave him a startled look. Before he could figure out their odd stares, Nurse Douglas and a doctor entered the room. The doctor shooed his family out and began examining Jake. Dr. Malone had a terrible beside manner. Jake was poked and prodded without a word of explanation. Finally, after having Jake follow his small penlight for the fifth time, he spoke.

“I don’t know how or why this happened, young man; but yesterday, I thought your chances of even a partial recovery were zero. Now it’s hard to tell anything was ever wrong with you,” muttered Dr. Malone. “I want to get another EEG and I want to consult with some colleagues.”

The doctor wandered off still mumbling and Nurse Douglas poured his a cup of water. “I’m so happy you are awake, Jacob,” she said. “Cindy and I stayed an extra shift to make sure you were okay.”

Jake gulped down the water and handed her the cup for a refill. “That was sweet of you,” he said. “Thank you both, but why does Cindy bolt when she sees me awake?”

“She’s just shy and your waking up is the biggest thing to happen to her since she started volunteering here,” replied Sara.

“I see, well, tell her I said thanks for watching out for me.” Sara, will you be working this evening? I have some questions I need to ask you.”

“I’m back on for the three to eleven shift,” Sara responded, “We’ll talk, then. Now spend some time with your family.” Surprisingly, she bent down and kissed his forehead.

Jake spent the day getting to know his family. After telling them that he had awoken with gaps in his memory, they eagerly filled him in. Jake kept how little he really knew to himself. Charles, his father, owned a furniture store that seemed to be pretty successful. Charles Turner was about six feet tall with reddish thinning hair and a slight paunch. His mother Helen was eleven years younger than her husband and was truly a knockout; she had thick, wavy, lustrous black hair, china blue eyes, an angelic smile, and a slender, yet curvy figure.

Jake’s two older sisters were Debbie and Angie. Debbie was the older at seventeen and Angie was sixteen.

How perfect was it that all three kids were born in the same month, one year apart? Helen smiled as she related that his dad was determined to have a boy so, thank goodness, it only took them three tries. Debbie had dark red hair, green eyes, and the fine unfreckled skin of her mother. Angie had fiery red hair, bright blue eyes, and a dusting of freckles. Both were attractive, tall, and slim. They were strangely quiet and reserved, still watching him guardedly. Jake figured he would find out what that was all about later. After a couple of hours, they all trooped out with promises of visiting tomorrow.

After much grumbling the day nurse brought him some Jell-O, broth, and a promise to ask the doctor if he could have solid food. The nurse also unplugged him from the IV and heart monitor. The catheter was removed but he was cautioned to remain in bed until tomorrow after the doctor’s morning rounds. Jake dozed off after finally getting something to eat.

He woke up sometime in the late afternoon. A watch was definitely on his things-needed list, along with a toothbrush and a mirror. He realized he did not actually even know what he looked like. He rang the nurses’ call button and was pleasantly surprised to see both Sara and Cindy come through the door.

“What are the ordinary patients doing while all the beautiful women are in my room?” Jake asked.

Sara laughed and Cindy turned beet red. “I brought Cindy along so you could thank her personally,” said Sara “What can we do for you?”

“Thank you very much, Cindy, for your care and concern,” said Jake.

Cindy nodded and squeaked, “You’re welcome.”

Then he told them the items he needed. Still blushing furiously, Cindy went for a Sunday paper. Sara went to find him a personal hygiene kit and a mirror. Cindy arrived first with the paper and, head down, darted out the door. Sara came in with a hospital bag with men’s comfort supplies and an eighteen-inch square mirror. I know why you would want a comb and toothbrush but what is the mirror for?” she asked.

“I want to know what I look like,” Jake stated.

Silently Sara held up the mirror. Jake was shocked at what he saw. Staring back at him was a masculine version of his mother. He had the same jet-black hair and blue eyes but with a strong jaw and manly nose. Even though he did not like the long hair, he had to admit that he had definitely traded up in the looks department. Jake brushed his teeth and drank more water. He asked Sara for a basin to wash in and was pleasantly surprised when she told him that she would give him a sponge bath after supper when things settled down. She went on to inform him his request for solid food had been approved. Jake let his head fall back on the pillow.