Forgotten Faces

Fall weather and flea markets go hand-in-hand. They're like snowball fights with warm mittens to keep away the chill, or baseball games with hotdogs covered in ketchup, mustard and onions. You shouldn't have one without the other. There might even be a law to uphold this universal rule.

It was during a crisp fall day when Elizabeth found herself conveyed to another outdoor flea market by her best friend, Tina. On this day the clouds resemble torn pieces of cotton stuck against a perfect blue background, and the ground was covered with multicolored leaves, giving your feet something to kick and crunch as you walked along but not enough to hide the green grass that hadn't yet withered to winter's faded brown. It was a perfect day for perusing used magazines, knick-knacks, second-hand furniture and antiques.

They had been walking through the rows and rows of merchant wares for what seemed like hours. Elizabeth wasn't sure exactly how long they had been shopping. She had forgotten to wear her watch, but the sun was high over their heads and the empty feeling in her stomach told her that the morning had now progressed into the afternoon.

"Tina, I'm hungry. Can't we stop for a bite to eat?" She whined.

Tina looked up from a table that held a multitude of sad and shabby Barbie and Ken dolls. She raised her arm to glance at her watch. "Gosh, it's already one o'clock. No wonder you're cranky. It's long past your noon feeding."

"Very funny. You know I have low blood sugar. Do you want me to make a scene and pass out right in front of Barbie and Ken?"

Tina gestured to one of the dolls. "Only if you can cause a big enough distraction so I can pilfer this nineteen sixty-five Barbie I would like to add to my collection."

Elizabeth shot her a look that told her to behave herself. "As if you'd steal something, little miss church lady. I can just see it now, you'd run away with Barbie legs hanging out of your purse and be back five minutes later smothered in guilt and crying your Hail Mary's."

"Would not." She retorted. "More like screaming Our Father while they cuffed me and threw me in the slammer." She replied while looking for a matching set of Barbie shoes.

"I can see the headlines now… 'Barbie kidnapped. Ken in tears pleads for her safe return'. I bet the judge and jury would sentence you to three years maximum, but you'd get off in ten months for good behavior."

Frustrated at the lack of matching shoes, Tina turned away from her search. "All right Lizzy, what do you want to eat?

"There's a hamburger stand up ahead." She gestured across several tables of brick-brack. "Let's get a large slab of cow on a bun."

"Cute. Very cute." Tina mumbled as she led the way.

As the two women made their way through the market their slim figures and attractive appearances were noticed by several men. Both women were in their early twenties. Tina was the taller of the two at five feet nine inches and posed a striking appearance with her willowy build, short dark hair and large brown eyes. Elizabeth, in contrast, was only five foot five inches, but her curvy figure and plump breasts attracted an equal share of attention. She possessed cat-like aquamarine colored eyes, a pert nose and full soft lips that made a man dream about long, slow kisses on cold winter nights. But her true beauty lay in her long strawberry blonde hair that hung in loose waves down her shoulders. Monday through Friday she kept her hair bound and pinned tightly to her head in her usual French twist, but on the weekends she always wore it down and loose. It was her long loose hair that caused her to be noticed on this day.

After consuming hamburgers and milkshakes the two women continued their day of shopping. On their way to a barn that was rumored to hold a den of antiques dolls, Elizabeth stopped at a table of old photographs. Intrigued by the containers of forgotten faces she began to explore.

"Lizzy, I'm going two booths down to look for a new purse. Are you going stay here and dig for the long lost photo of Uncle Frank while I'm gone?"

"Yeap," she agreed as she held up a picture of a man in a top hat, long coat and cane for her friend to see, "and when I find him, I shall proclaim myself as his long lost niece and inherit his millions."

"You go girl!" Tina cheered. "Just don't wander off or I won't be able to find you."

"Yes Mother." Lizzy replied dryly.

Elizabeth watched as her friend walked off before she returned to her photos. "How sad." She whispered as she glanced at one portrait after another. "Somewhere there is a person wondering where the photo of his great grandmother is, and here it sits lost for eternity."

She dug through one box that held the largest amount of photos and as she picked them up one by one she placed them in a neighboring box that was not as full. Halfway through she found a photo that caught her eye. For some strange reason the portrait of this man looked familiar. Judging from the clothing it looked to be taken in the mid to late eighteen hundreds. The frame looked old as well. The figure within stood alone, leaning lightly against a small circular table covered with a tablecloth. Even though she couldn't see his shoes she could tell he had one foot crossed over the other in a carefree way. He wasn't smiling, but Lizzy knew that older portraits were often taken with the person wearing a serious expression. Seldom did anyone smile in them. The photo was not a very good one, and the image was slightly fuzzy and out of focus, but the man within had a kind gentle face. And he looked like he wanted to smile, and probably did burst into a grin just as soon as the flash went off.

Elizabeth turned the picture over as she looked for a price but found none. She looked up in an effort to locate the seller but the man had his back turned toward her as he spoke to an elderly couple. She was just impatient enough to investigate further as she began to unfasten the backing of the frame. The picture popped free easily, but what had her hands struggling was the inscription written on the back. In faded pencil was written, 'JH Holliday, Prescott, 1879.'

"Holy shit." She exclaimed softly. "This can't be real." She looked up again and found the merchant eyeballing her as a potential sale. Lizzy quickly placed the photo back into the frame and fastened it.

The man sashayed over and pointed to the picture. "Five dollars miss, for the pictures with frames, and three dollars for the ones without."

"Sold." She quickly stated, and reached in her front pants pocket for her money.

The merchant began to reach for the photo. "Would you like me to wrap it for you?"

"No!" Lizzy jerked her hand back. "I'll just place it in my bag. Thanks." She suddenly felt an unreasonable urge to flee quickly from the table, so with her treasure held tightly she turned away and began to look for Tina.

Her friend was in a hot debate with the leather purse merchant. Elizabeth watched in silence from the outside of the booth as she continuously glanced at the picture she held. It just has to be a fake. Or a really good copy, she thought. She was not a history buff, but she was smart enough to know an original photo of John 'Doc' Holliday would be worth thousands of dollars. The chances of finding a lost picture of the legendary dentist turned gambler in a box of old photos and for sale at a flea market in Pennsylvania was next to impossible.

"Shit, it is impossible." She mumbled to herself. "You're a fake." She told the photo. "And I'm five dollars less in funds and labeled a fool for buying you."

"Are you talking to your purchases now?" Tina asked as she approached triumphant with a new purse in hand.

Lizzy smiled. "I am not only talking to my purchases, but I am also addressing a famous historical figure. Look what I found, Tina?" She presented the photo for her friend to inspect.

"Gee, what'd you buy that skinny thing for? If you wanted an older man to look at you should have gotten one that was cute and burly. He looks like he needs that table to lean on because he's too weak to stand alone."

"This," she remarked as she waved the photo in her face, "is none other than Doc Holliday."

"Get out!" She shouted as she reached to get a second look at the picture. "You found a photo of Doc Holliday in box? How much was it?"

"Five dollars."

Tina's eyebrows came together to form a dainty wrinkle above the bridge of her nose. "It's a fake, Lizzy. Or a really big mistake on someone's part. No way would a photo of Doc Holliday be only five dollars. Are you sure it's Doc Holliday?"

"Here on the back it has his name." She opened the frame to show her friend.

"It's a forgery. It has to be."

"Oh, I know, silly, but a girl can dream can't she." She rapped the picture carefully in a hanky she had in her purse and tucked it safely away.

"Still, I'd rather have a photo of Gerard Butler or Dougray Scott." Tina teased.

"I think he has a very nice face." Elizabeth replied. She wasn't sure why, but she felt a strong need to defend her purchase and the image of the man it held.

"Well, my suspicions are now verified … girl you need glasses. Either that or you've had way too much sun today. Come on, I'm taking you home." She brushed pasted several clusters of people as she made her way to the car.

"What? Don't you want to stay and help me find the lost photo of Wyatt Earp as well? I'd love to have a matching set." Lizzy cried as she followed closely behind.

Tina laughed and stopped walking to reach back and grab her friend's hand. "Best hurry you along before you have a seizure or something."

As both women chatted, neither one noticed a large, dark hair man watching them with interest.

Elizabeth was glad to be home. All that walking had made her feet ache and she longed to sit quietly and study her new photo in silence. She stopped to get her mail from her box out front before entering her small house.

She had been living in this neighborhood for more than three years. It was a quiet block with close sets of families and children as her neighbors. It was the kind of street were the sounds of children's playing woke you early on Saturdays and during the hot summer nights, you could buy ice cream from the jolly ice cream truck as it made rounds up and down the streets. Each and every holiday was celebrated and every house was decorated appropriately.

She liked living here and had no intention of moving for a long time.

After tossing her mail on the dinning room table she looked about the room for a perfect spot to place her new photo. Reaching into her purse, she extracted the wrapped picture, unfolded the hanky and stared in awe at her treasure.

"Let's see. Where should I put you?" She asked the image.

Her eye fell on her piano and she smiled. She kept her other family photos on top of the piano and even if Doc wasn't family it seemed right somehow to place him in a group setting within the circle of her family. It was the ideal spot. She could reflect on the picture and practice her piano at the same time.

"What do you think, Doc? Do you like your new surroundings?" She sat on the bench and carefully adjusted the angle of the frame.

It really wasn't the best likeness. The picture was so out of focus you could barely decipher his features, but what you could see looked nice enough. He had light colored hair and a full bushy mustache that would most definitely tickle any woman he kissed. Which was not necessarily a bad thing. Men's mustaches might rub your face a little when you kissed them but there was a bonus when they kissed you in other places.

She giggled a little at her dirty thoughts. "Don't mind me, Doc. It's been awhile since I'd had any nooky. A girl gets to miss a man in her bed. Not that Rodger was anything to crow about when he was around." Now where did that dark thought come from? She shook her head and went into the kitchen for a cold glass of wine.

Rodger had been gone for almost a year. She had been upset for a few weeks after he left, but she adjusted quickly. Too quickly. But her dates had been far and few between lately and the call of nature had her thinking it was time to find a new man.

She placed her wineglass on a coaster as she sat in front of her piano. It had been an expensive instrument but worth every penny. She had been playing since the age of five and had never been without a piano. Even in college she had one within walking distance of her dorm room. After she graduated and accepted a position as an accountant in a large firm downtown, she had celebrated by purchasing this piano. Almost every night she played. It was therapy for her, and chased away any cares the day had carried, creating a clean slate for a new day.

But tonight she was finding it hard to concentrate as she stared at the portrait. She couldn't be certain, but hadn't Doc Holliday died young? She was almost sure it had been from tuberculosis. That would explain his thin frame. "Well, I don't care what Tina says, I think you are very handsome." He was dressed in a fine looking suit, neatly pressed and topped off with what looked like a diamond stickpin that held his tie in place. "Cravat, I think is what you would have called it."

He was leaning on his hand, as Tina had mentioned, but it was not for support. His fingers were curled under as he braced his weight against his knuckles but he was clearly posing. His other hand was empty and limp, but she could almost imagine him holding a hat in this hand as he waited to greet a friend or perhaps a lover.

"Did you have lovers, Doc?" She asked, but then quickly blushed. "Forgive me. I guess we don't know each other well enough for me to ask such a bold question."

She laughed suddenly. Did she just blush and apologize to a photograph? "Oh, boy. I guess it's time to turn on the television. I definitely need a distraction." She took another sip of her wine and went to find the remote.

And our feature story tonight is another gruesome murder in a quiet suburban neighborhood. Police are still investigating the rape and stabbing death of a single woman found murdered in her home early this morning. Neighbors are mystified and frightened by this disturbance but the police remained closed mouth as their investigation continues to search out clues…

Elizabeth shivered as she pressed the off button. This was the third murder reported this month and all within a ten mile distance of her home. "Maybe I should get a big dog." She mumbled as she returned back to the piano to play. "How about some Mozart, Doc to chase way that gloomy news?"

She played for an hour and as she played she would periodically glance at the photo. Doc must have liked her playing because after a while it looked to her like he was softly smiling.

Sunday morning was her favorite day of the week. She always rose earlier, took a two mile walk and then went to church. Tina always saved her a seat and then after Mass they would go for breakfast. It was a routine that she loved.

"I still don't know how you can eat that crap and not gain a pound. It's positively disgusting."

Tina grinned and added another dollop of whip cream to her stack of waffles. "Yum." She sang as she place another spoonful into her mouth. "There is nothing better than whip cream. Except sex of course…unless you have sex with whip cream and then…."

"That will be enough from you young lady or back to church you will go for the eleven o'clock Mass as well."

"Two in one day, Lizzy. That's brutal. I promise I'll be good."

"Excellent."

"How's your tubercular gambler doing?"

Lizzy gave her a grin. "He's very well and adjusting to his new home. Thank you for asking."

"Where'd you put him? Next to your bed?"

Lizzy shook her head.

"In the bath?"

"No, Tina, for goodness sake. I put him on the piano. He likes it there."

Tina's head tilted to one side as a small crease above the bridge of her nose emerged. "He likes it there? What kind of statement is that?"

Lizzy shrugged. She had no idea where that thought came from. But it seemed to have a ring of truth to it. Somehow, the photo really did seem to like resting on the piano. "He has made himself quite at home. It's like he's always been sitting on top of my piano. As if he was a member of my own family."

"You need to get out more Elizabeth. I'm starting to worry about you. How about doubling with Jim and me. He has a navy buddy coming to town next week."

"All right. What's his name?"

"Burt… something. I forget."

"Burt! Oh, you're kidding. Like in Burt and Ernie?"

Tina grimaced and nodded. "Sorry, I know it's a horrible, but what can I do? Will you still go?"

"Yes. But I may have to limit my intake of alcohol or I might lapse into a Sesame Street skit."

Tina leaned over and patted her hand. "I understand dear. If you forget yourself I promise to kick you from under the table."

Liz frowned and growled. "Thanks a lot."

"Hey, what are friends for."

After her foray with Tina, Lizzy returned home to continue her day of rest. Sunday was her official day to do absolutely nothing. It was her way of recharging her batteries for the week ahead. She envisioned a lazy afternoon in front of the television or perhaps just quietly reading a book.

She was just slipping her key into the lock when a car advancing down the street suddenly slowed down to a crawl as it passed in front of her house. For a moment she thought it was a visitor for her neighbor, but what struck her as strange was the man driving the car looked directly at her before he sped away. She shrugged off the encounter as just another flirty male in pursuit of a conquest.

Once again found herself sitting at the piano and contemplating the photo of Doc. Perhaps she had looked too quickly and misread the inscription on the back. She reached for the frame and turned it over in her lap. Sure enough the inscription read, 'JH Holliday, Prescott, 1879'. "Well I guess my eyesight is still good. Must be my mind going South."

She had read somewhere that Doc was born in the South. This would mean he would have spoken with a Southern accent. She returned him to his previous spot. "I guess it's time to do some research. Obviously, I'm obsessing over you. I'm sure I'm not the first woman to do so."

Doc's hand that braced against the table looked obstructed by dirt so she casually wiped at the glass to remove the speck of dust but her hand came away clean. Thinking she needed to clean the glass with a cloth, she carried the picture into the kitchen. With a damp paper towel in hand, she turned the photo toward the light to get a better look and her breath suddenly stuck in her throat.

His hand had moved.

"Get a grip girl." She coached. "Pictures don't move. Obviously you didn't get a good look yesterday."

She carried it to the window and looked again. There was definitely no dirt, and sure enough it looked like he was now leaning against his fingertips instead of his knuckles.

"What the fuck?" Carefully she touched the glass again. No other aspects of the picture changed. He was still standing with one foot crossed over the other, not really smiling but looking calm, serene and on the verge of a smile. His other hand lay loosely at his side, empty. "I'm not loosing it. I just didn't remember how his hand was placed. That's all it is."

Disturbed by her poor memory, she placed the photo back on top of the piano and went for a glass of wine. A couple of glasses of wine and an hour at the piano and all will be well.

"All is well." She sang and began to play one of Chopin's Nocturnes. For the first few frames she concentrated on the music, letting the notes and melody calm her nerves. But before long she found herself glancing at the photo again.

Had she thought his expression was serene? It wasn't really serene. There was a trace of a smile hidden under his mustache, and his eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. He likes my playing. It was a strange thought and she had no idea where it came from. "It's a picture, Elizabeth and picture neither move nor feel emotion."

She looked away and down at the piano keys. She didn't really need to watch her fingers anymore. She had been playing Chopin's Nocturnes since grade school. Closing her eyes she rocked gently in time with the music and when the song was finished she felt calmer.

Her wineglass was almost empty and it was time for a refill. She tilted back the glass and drained the contents with one swallow, and as she lowered her glass her eyes fell on the picture again. It did look like her playing amused him. She could clearly see a dimple in his cheek as if he was just beginning to show a cockeyed smile while she played. It must be the wine, she thought.

"More wine, or less wine. Either way, I'm getting my eyes checked, and damn soon."

At work the next morning she searched the Internet and found a plethora of information on Doc Holliday, Wyatt Earp and the famous gun fight at the OK Corral. She made several notes and printed out quite a few pages regarding the personal history of her new two-dimensional friend. During lunch she showed Tina.

"Look, it says here he was born in Georgia, on August 14, 1851, and died November 8, 1887, of tuberculosis. He was thirty-six years old. Poor thing. His mother was a consumptive too. She died when John was fifteen. His father promptly remarried just three months after she died. His family was considered to be part of the upper society. He earned a degree in dentistry from the Philadelphia School of Dental Surgery in 1871, and was supposed to have had a love affair with his first cousin. No one knows for certain why he went west and stayed there, but historians speculate that it was a combination of his illness and the love affair that made him bitter. Apparently, gambling came easy for him and that is how he made a living. Well, that and some sporadic dentistry, but mostly his money came from gambling. His family disapproved of his life style and some members even refused to acknowledge him as kin. Basically, his family wiped out any trace of his existence, which is one reason why history knows so little about the man behind the myth." She put the paper down and picked up her diet soda.

Tina picked up the paper and began to peruse it lightly. "Are you sure his family came to hate him?"

"I wouldn't say it was hate, more like shame and disapproval. Apparently he had a very large fallout with his father when he remarried his 'supposed' mistress shortly after his wife's death. Back then the proper mourning period would have been about a year. John's father created a scandal when he remarried just three months later. See Tina, men were jerks in the nineteenth century too."

"Jim's not a jerk."

"Jim's an angel." Elizabeth clarified. "Too bad you can't clone him and sell the copies on e-bay. You'd be a billionaire."

Tina smiled and took a big bite of her hoagie. "So, I've been thinking."

Elizabeth held up her hand to interrupt her. "Swallow please. I could live the rest of my life without seeing chewed hoagie."

Tina chewed, swallowed and then stuck her tongue out. "Can I speak now?"

"Please do."

"I made a phone call this morning about your new obsession. Jim has a friend who can authenticate the photograph, if that is what you want."

"You don't really think the photo is an original, do you?" She stabbed a lone piece of lettuce with her fork and proceeded to mop her dish thoroughly for the last drop of salad dressing. She sighed heavily as she rested her fork on the table. The salad was finished and still she felt hungry.

"No, I don't. But stranger things have happened. Let his friend take a look. It can't hurt. If it is real, then we go out to celebrate, if it's a fake we'll still go out to celebrate. Did I mention Jim's friend is single."

"Ah, I see. Sneaky." Elizabeth smiled brightly. "Ok, fine, make a date and call me later." She stood up quickly as she prepared to leave. "What's this one's name. Not Marvin, or Elvis I hope."

"No." Tina laughed. "His name is Gary, something. You know me. I'm not good with names, especially the last ones. Personally, I feel their last names aren't worth memorizing until at least the third date."

Elizabeth stopped at the grocery story to pick up some dinner and another bottle of wine. On the way home the radio had news report about another murder. This time an elderly woman was raped and stabbed. Again the location was very close to her home. All these attacks were starting to worry her. She had never been nervous about living alone before, but now…

It seemed the photo was the first thing she saw when she opened the front door. "Hello, Doc." She called in a cheery voice. Once her groceries were put away she poured some wine and set about making dinner.

She wanted to continue her reading on the legendary dentist while she ate a light meal of pasta and fresh vegetables. Before she sat down she grabbed the picture off the piano and set it on the dinning room table to look at as she read. "I've been reading up on you." She told him. "What a sad life you had. Or, at least that's how it appears to me. My mother also died when I was young. It's hard to let that kind of pain go, isn't it? But I hope you found some measure of happiness." She paused as she refilled her glass.

"I don't usually drink this much. I guess talking to you relaxes me. If anyone ever heard me though, I'd been packed off to the nearest padded cell."

She continued to read about his life and made a few notes about books she wanted to peruse. When she looked up again it seemed to her as if the image had gotten clearer. Perhaps it was the light in the dinning room, but she could swear his features were sharper. The outline of his eyes and eyebrows were stronger and the set of his mouth was clearly one of contained amusement, accented by not one, but two dimples. "You are laughing at me aren't you John Holliday."

Disturbed by what she saw, she placed the frame back on the piano. "You sir, shall sit right here and stay out of trouble while I clean up the dishes."

Maybe it's a mental thing, she thought. Might want to make an appointment to see my doctor. The phone rang just as she finished washing the few dishes. "Tina, hi. No, I'm not busy. Just ate some supper. Friday night? Sure, that sounds fine. I'll gladly meet Gary what's-his-face Friday night. What? Oh, Doc's fine." She walked into the living room to glance at the photo as she talked. "Do you want to say hello to him? No, I'm not drunk, and of course I know you can't talk to a photo."

She sat on the piano bench and looked at the picture. Tina continued to ramble at her about her recent state of mind but Lizzy didn't hear her. Her attention was completely focused on Doc and what she now saw. "Tina… What? Oh, I'm sorry I didn't hear a word you said. Wait a minute, please listen to me. I think I'm really losing it. There's something strange about this photo and you're going to think I'm nuts when I tell you this but… well, I could swear this photo moves when I'm not looking. No, I don't mean it moves from place to place in my house. I mean Doc Holliday's pose changes inside the picture."

She reached up and grabbed the photo and walked back to the dinning room window. Damn it, he must have moved. He was no longer leaning against the table but was now standing upright. The tips of his fingers rested lightly against the table and his legs were no longer crossed. He now looked like he was ready to take a step forward.

At this precise moment she wanted to drop this spooky photo in the trash and forget she ever saw it, but what if it wasn't a copy? What if this picture was one of the few original photos of Doc that existed? Surely she shouldn't destroy such a treasure?

"No, I'm not drunk, Tina. I only had two glasses of wine. I'm telling you something is very strange about this photo. I really don't think I'm seeing things. But that doesn't make any sense, does it? No, you don't need to come over. I'm all right. Perhaps I'm just tired. Really, I'm fine. Now why would I want to bring this spooky picture into my bedroom? Oh, cute missy, very cute. But two-dimensional sex is not my idea of a good time. And, if he ever should walk out of this frame and into my house I'd be too freaked to do anything but run. Sex would not be the utmost on my mind. Goodnight, Tina. Tell Jim I said hi. Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight."

She hung up the phone and continued to stare at Doc. "You're not trying to frighten me are you, Doc? Cause I've got enough to worry about with four murders in my hometown in just under a month. There's no need to cause me unnecessary stress."

Voicing her fears to Tina helped alleviate some of her anxiety. She was being silly and acting like a child. It must be a combination of fatigue and her active imagination that was making her see things. Photographs of people don't move. It was impossible, wasn't it?

She refilled her wineglass again, walked to the piano and set Doc down. "What should I play for you tonight? Some more Chopin? I like Chopin. He is definitely one of my favorites." Her fingers struck up a tune as she continued to look at her phantom photo. Wasn't that a ring she saw on the index finger of his right hand? His coat jacket looked different as well. The last two buttons were undone. She could have sworn his jacket had been neatly buttoned before.

"You are very handsome." She murmured to the photo. "Was there ever anyone special in your life, Doc? Historians speculate about your relationship with Big Nose Kate. Some say it was love and other's say it was convenience. I wonder what you would say if given the chance?"

She played three more songs, all of them old church tunes she knew as a child before she felt relaxed enough to go to bed. As she checked all the locks on her doors and windows she heard her neighbor's dog barking loudly. A chill passed down her spin as she peered out the window for any disturbance on the street. Nothing. Probably barking at a cat, she thought but she still felt uneasy.

As a passing thought, she grabbed the photo off the piano and took it into the bedroom with her. If Tina knew, I'd never hear the end of it. She slowly caressed the photo before placing it on her nightstand. "You'll protect me, won't you Doc?" She whispered as she reached up to turn off the light.

The dream was surreal. The imagines unclear, like a camera lens that needed to be adjusted just a little to bring the setting into focus. She had no idea where she was in the dream. The location was hard to determine, but it was definitely a bedroom, somewhere… the bed was elegantly constructed of dark wood with large heavy posts, but the details were hard to see. At times, through the soft candlelight, she thought she could see the craved outline of a leaf connected to a dogwood flower, but as soon as she would turn her head the image faded out of focus.

Like most pleasant dreams, she wasn't concerned why she didn't know where she was. It just didn't seem to be important. Why bother about the little details when she felt so comfortable, secure, safe…

And loved…

The weight of his body as it leaned against hers was not overpowering, but had just enough pressure behind it to make her very aware of the man in bed with her. His body had a delicate feel to it, for he was not as robust in stature as other men, but she wasn't put off by his thin frame. On the contrary, she couldn't remember when she had been this aroused, and he was clearly enjoying this time with her as well as he pressed his waist against her lower stomach and bent to kiss the tips of her breasts again. His warm breath reached her nipple first, was followed by the coarse hair on his upper lip and then finally claimed by his mouth. He rolled over the tender tip with his wet velvet tongue, sucked deeply once, twice, before releasing her, making her feel the sharp absence, making her want and beg for more.

He laughed at her wantonness, a soft deep laugh that reminded her of warm humid days, chilled glasses of tea laced with sweet honey, and the air filled with the buzzing sound of cicadas. With a sigh, he rested his cheek against her chest, so she embraced him, caressed his thin face and sank her fingers into the wavy mass of his hair, massaging his scalp and neck just the way he liked. A throaty murmur of approval and another loving kiss to her breast was her reward before he rose up on his arms to claim her mouth, and rub his mustache against the sensitive skin on her throat.

The smooth texture of his skin was pleasing to skim her fingers over, the sharp outline of his tightly strung muscles somehow familiar. She passed her hands down the length of his back before bringing them upward along his ribcage. He flinched against her inadvertently brushing his sensitive flesh against her sensitive flesh and they both let out a groan of longing.

His kisses became increasingly demanding and suddenly her dream began to shift. As her passion grew with each caress, each kiss, so did his presence within her dream. It had moved beyond the spiritual realm of her fantasy until each aspect of his physical persona took on the guise of a real lover. She could feel each touch so distinctly, right down to the calluses on the tips of his fingers as they trailed down the length of her arms. The hot skin beneath her hands began to take on a sheen of sweat bringing with it the fragrant aroma of his skin laced with the bay rum aftershave he used. Each raspy breath he took reminded her how delicate his lungs really were.

She should have been alarmed by the extent of this delusion, but for some reason she wasn't. She was not the least bit apprehensive. No indeed. What she was feeling was familiarity. She knew him, understood him in ways that no one else did, and he in turn knew her just as well.

But these were just passing random thoughts that were quickly displaced by the growing ache he was slowly milking from her body. When he finally shifted his body to join with hers nothing else mattered. She wrapped her legs around his hips to bring him closer, deeper. He hissed sharply through his teeth when her movement brought him close to the edge of control. A whisper of love followed by another kiss steadied his pulse.

The slow, steady rocking of his body might have left other girls longing for a more aggressive lover, but she didn't feel that way. He had not the stamina for an all night wrestling match and she didn't desire to feel like his opponent. But she didn't mistake his gentleness for lack of passion. There was a slow, steady burn that existed as his inner core. Always hot, always smoldering, ready to burst into flames at a moment's notice. He loved her the only way he could. He would nurture her sexuality slowly, steadily and with a dogged determination that would leave a stronger man quickly spent.

Before her orgasm took her, the dream shifted again, becoming more lifelike and completely in focus now. How was it possible she knew all the details that made up the man before her? His inner thoughts. His illness. His gentle spirit and his contrasting barbaric nature. Wasn't this just a dream?

She reached up to caress his face, loving the handsome features she found there. Passion filled blue eyes, regal nose, high cheekbones and a mass of wavy blond hair that was falling in his face as he dipped his head to kiss her once more.

"Elizabeth." He whispered in her ear, and as if cued by him, her body suddenly released as she arched against him and cried out.

The next morning as she showered, imagines of the dream replayed in her head. The subject of her dream wasn't what disturbed her. She had been thinking about Doc Holliday for two solid days now, dreaming about him was bound to happen sooner or later. It was the vivid sex that had her blushing, yet trembling at the same time. It had felt so real. She could still feel the texture of his mustache when he kissed her throat and the small sharp love bites on the sensitive skin below her ear. Subconsciously, she raised her hand to touch that area of her neck and was surprised to find her skin was sore.

She turned off the water and reached for her towel. After wiping the steam from the mirror she tilted her head to one side and made a close inspection. Low on her neck, below her ear, was a reddish mark, as if a lover had given her a hicky.

She refused to look at his picture until she was fully dressed. Only then did she pick up the frame from her bedside table with the intent of placing it back on the piano. Was it her imagination, or did Doc look extremely pleased with himself today.

"It's my imagination. Pictures don't move." She said aloud as she positioned Doc in his normal spot on the piano and left for the office.

"Here it is." Tina cried in a low voice as she eased into the empty chair in Elizabeth's office.

"Here what is?" She replied while answering an email to her boss.

"Your photo." She pushed a single sheet of paper forward until Lizzy could see it. "Maybe this one will move for you too."

Elizabeth looked down at the photocopy and gasped. "It is him." She cried. "It's identical to my photo. Where did you find this?"

"On some Western history website. This photo of Doc Holliday is one that has good provenance."

"Who has the original, did it say?"

"I believe it is part of a private collection. I'll get the address and we can send a letter. Maybe you can compare your photo to this one. Is this pose the same as yours?"

"Almost the same I think…" She paused as she tried to remember how her Doc Holliday was posed. "My copy has a clearer imagine than this one, and in my photo he is standing more upright, and his fingers are rested against the tabletop but he's not leaning on it. Oh, and his coat is unbuttoned on the bottom."

Tina looked at her peculiarly as she glanced down at the photocopy again. "Are you sure you remember correctly, Lizzy? I clearly recall making a bad joke about him being so skinny he needed to lean on the table to hold himself upright. Don't your remember?"

"You're right. I do remember. See Tina, I told you something was strange about my photo."

"We should compare your photo to what I printed from the web."

"All right. Why don't you come over after work for a drink?"

"Can't. I've got a doctor's appointment right after work. I'll tell you what, how about I call you when I'm done. I could swing by on the way home."

"Good. I'll have a bottle chilled and waiting."

The evening air was colder tonight but Lizzy wasn't quite ready to turn on the heat yet. She got a sweater from her room and sat down at the piano to play. Tina had called just moments before to say she wouldn't be able to stop by. The doctor's office was running late and she still needed to stop by the pharmacy to pick up a prescription for some new medicine her doctor had prescribed.

"Tomorrow, Lizzy I promise. Tell that damn photo not to move anymore until I get there." She had joked.

Lizzy was finding it hard to find the humor in her present dilemma. Doc's pose looked like it had changed again. Either that or she was clearly losing her memory or her mind. As she sat down at the piano she glanced at the picture. Another button was undone on his jacket and she could now clearly see the butt end of his gun sticking out from underneath.

"I'm losing my mind or you're fucking with my head? Which is it Doc?" She waited for an answer from her apparition but he had none. "Either way, I'm getting more worried by the day." She told him as she set out a new set of sheet music on the piano. "I stopped by the music store on the way home and bought some music you might recognize."

She practiced the new tune several times before she felt comfortable. When she looked up again she noticed the sun had set and she still needed to turn on her porch lights. As she peeked out her back door she saw her neighbor and stepped outside to say hello.

"Evening, Mr. Morris."

"Lizzy, hello. I hear you got some new music. Your playing is lovely, as usual."

"Thank you. I hope I'm not making too much noise for you?"

"No, not at all. I love the sound of a good piano." He gestured to her porch. "I'm glad to see you've got your light on. It's safer that way."

"Well, we can't be too careful these days, can we? I heard your dog barking last night but couldn't see what he was barking at."

"Neither could I. Maybe it was a cat."

"My thoughts too. Well, it's getting too cold for me. I'll say goodnight now."

"Goodnight Elizabeth. Don't forget to lock your doors."

Once back inside she found herself standing in front of the picture again, but she didn't notice any changes this time. She heaved a sigh of relief and went to take a hot bath.

She soaked for an hour, taking care of her weekly beauty routine at the same time. When she was done her hands and feet were manicured, legs and armpits were shaved, eyebrows were plucked back into shape and her long strawberry locks were conditioned. She would be well prepared for her new date this Friday night.

Just as she was finished rinsing the tub she could hear a quick thunderstorm blowing in. It was good she had finished her bath before it started to storm. The night air was just cool enough for sweatpants and socks. Over her tee shirt she put on her favorite sweater. It was a good night to curl up on the sofa and start that new Judith McNaught book she had been putting off.

There was a flash of lightning as she passed the piano, and for just a moment she caught a movement from the corner of her eye. She paused and looked closer at Doc. There was another subtle change. "Impossible." She whispered as she picked up the frame to get a closer look.

His left hand had moved this time. He was in the process of raising it, perhaps reaching to unbutton his coat more. And to add to the mystery, a dark smudge had appeared directly under his left hand as if the photographer lit the flash the moment Doc moved creating a flaw in the photo.

"You are moving, aren't you?" She asked him. She kept her eyes on the figure and waited.

Nothing happened.

Although she found the idea of a haunted picture disturbing, she found she wasn't afraid. The atmosphere surrounding Doc was one of benevolence leading her to believe he meant her no harm. The expression on his face gave her no clue to his intension. If he was moving, what was he moving toward? To Elizabeth, he still looked amused. There was a slight grin, hidden completely by his heavy mustache, accented by a dimple on either side of his mouth, and a general kindness expressed around his eyes. Like he was stepping forward to greet a friend. Why then is he unbuttoning his jacket and exposing his gun?

"My God, what am I thinking?" She quickly replaced the photo to the piano top and stood back to get a different perspective. She wasn't crazy, was she? She wasn't drunk either so she would find no excuse there. "Perhaps that is the problem. I'm sober." A nice shifter of brandy would calm her nerves.

As she walked in the kitchen there was another flash of lightning followed by loud rolling thunder. "Boy are we going to have a good storm." She mumbled to herself. Before she could take her glass of brandy to the living room another flash of lighting lit the room. She looked at the photo again and found the mysterious smudge was gone and Doc had indeed unbuttoned his jacket completely. Underneath his coat was a beautiful pearl-handle colt sheathed in the specially constructed pocket of his vest.

"Sneaky." She scolded him. "Why not make your intensions known and be done with it?" Was he laughing at her now? She leaned in close and noticed his chin was raised somewhat, and his mouth was slightly open.

"And if you do manage to pop completely free from your frame, what then?" She took a sip of her brandy and let the chemical warmth sooth her nerves. "Will you make an introduction and invite me to a game of cards? Or, would your mood, perhaps, be more romantically inclined?" She smiled at the thought of another sexual interlude with Doc Holliday.

"If you are leaving the decision to me, then I would choose the romance. After all, I've already brought you into my home and taken you into my bedroom. We have moved beyond mere friendship."

Her thoughts were disturbed by another flash of lightning and then the violent barking of her neighbor's dog. Someone's outside, she thought, and quickly moved to the window. She parted the drapes to peer out, but it had started to rain obscuring her view of the street. The dog continued to bark and she was just thinking she might call her neighbor to check in when the dog suddenly yelp once and stopped. Obviously, Mr. Morris had intervened and the poor dog was disciplined.

Enough spookiness for one night. She closed the drapes tightly and went to find her book.

Judith McNaught hadn't disappointed her yet. Her books were always fast moving and full of interesting characters. She had read the first three chapters and was enjoying the story immensely. As she sunk further into the tale, she let the present reality slip from her consciousness. She forgot about her job, her nervousness about the recent attacks in town and she forgot about Doc. The raging thunderstorm outside was also forgotten… at least until the lights went out and she was plunged into total darkness.

"Oh shoot." It was black as pitch. She couldn't even see her hand in front of her face. Elizabeth sat up and felt for the coffee table in front of the sofa. She placed the book down as she tried to remember where she had left the flashlight last. "Kitchen drawer, I think." She mumbled as she rose slowly and began to gingerly feel her way through the room.

She had only taken a few short steps when she bumped her shin into the piano bench. "Ouch! Ooooh…" She rubbed the wounded limb several times. "Be a love, Doc, and light a match before I really hurt myself." She really didn't expect to hear a reply but when a male voice suddenly spoke to her from inside the room her mouth went instantly dry and the scream she wanted to let loose stuck in her throat.

"Sure thing, sweetness." He said just inches from her ear.

Elizabeth let out a small squeak as she whirled wildly about. Two strong hands clamped onto her shoulders and this time she did scream, loud and long. She was instantly thrown to the ground; her head struck the floor hard enough that white stars appeared behind her eyes.

The intruder was no longer holding her, and for just a brief space in time she didn't know where he was. Running on blind panic, she rolled to her hands and knees and began to crawl forward. An involuntary whimper leaked from her throat as she tried to escape. The room was still pitch black and the attack had disoriented so badly that she had no idea what direction to run. She was simply moving away from her attacker in any direction she could. When the palm of her hand touched cold tile she knew she entering the kitchen. Backdoor, backdoor, backdoor. The words repeated over and over again in her terrorized mind. If only she could reach the backdoor she would be free.

She was just struggling to a standing position when he grabbed her by her hair. Her arms flailed out seeking to grab any object to hold onto. As she came crashing down to the floor again she managed to bring the coffeepot with her. The stainless steel mechanism rang loudly when it struck the floor, bounced twice and was still. The glass carafe shattered into a million useless pieces, too small for her to use as a weapon.

A disconnected thought suddenly emerged through her panic as she wondered briefly how she was going to make coffee in the morning. But her reason left her again when her assailant promptly sat on her and began to rip off her shirt.

Elizabeth struggled against him, which only set him to laughing. He grabbed another handful of her hair and began to pull. "Strawberry blonde." He cooed. "I've not had one like you yet."

"No, nooooo…." She cried and reached for his face. When her nails tore across his cheek she realized he didn't have a mustache. This isn't Doc, she thought, and on the heels of that thought came, of course not stupid, pictures don't move.

A hard slap across her face almost made her black out, but his battering did little to subdue her, instead Elizabeth began to fight harder. He yelled sharply when the palm of her hand made direct contact with his nose. Before she could strike him again he slapped her hard two more times in succession, and this time her consciousness began to fade. From far off she was still vaguely aware of her surroundings, but her arms and legs refused to move. She could feel his hands ripping her tee-shirt, and he let loose a moan of satisfaction when his bare hands made contact with her breasts.

Oh, God, I'm going to die, she thought, and then she heard the sound of glass breaking. At first Lizzy thought her attacker was planning to cut her now that he finally had her subdued and exposed, but what confused her was the plunking sound of her piano keys as if someone had pressed on several keys at once. This sound was quickly followed by a firm chord and then another firm chord, but to what music and who was the musician?

The flash of a several gunshots briefly illuminated the room long enough for her to see her attacker and identify him as the man who had driven by her house two days before. He let out a cry of pain, jerked forward and fell to one side.

The room was beginning to recede and she could feel herself losing consciousness. She heard a snapping sound and suddenly the room was lit by the soft light of one match. Emerging from the darkness was her unexpected and unexplained savior. When he leaned down to get a better look at her she was not surprised by his identity. Weakly she called his name.

"Well now. What have we here…" He drawled in a soft soothing voice that at once made her feel that everything would be all right. When his arms slipped under and around her, she caught the familiar scent of bay rum aftershave mixed with his masculine aroma. Elizabeth finally slipped into oblivion as soon as her cheek rested against the soft wool of his jacket when he picked her up and began to carry her to safety.

The police officer folded his tablet and slipped his pen back into his pocket. He looked about the well-lit living room and the evidence of the struggle that had occurred there only an hour before. "Thank you for your help, Mr. Morris. We'll let you know as soon as we find anything."

The elderly man continued to wring his hands with nervous irritation. "Lizzy is such a sweet girl. I hope you can find out what happened to her." He stepped to one side as the EMT medics wheeled the draped stretcher across the living room and out the front door. On the street other neighbors stood nearby as they waited for any news about the single girl who lived inside. "Surely you don't think Lizzy shot that monster?"

"No." The officer replied. "I don't know who it was that shot that S.O.B five times in the back, but frankly, I'm glad he did. We've been trying to catch this guy for a month."

"Then you're sure that was the man you've been looking for?"

"Oh, yes, I'm sure. I can't say if the district attorney will agree, but the M.O. is the same. He killed four women. All of them single, and all at night."

"Someone should call her family." Mr. Morris suggested. "They shouldn't hear about this on the news."

"We'll notify her next of kin," the officer explained, "as soon as we determine who they are. They might be able to give us a lead as to Elizabeth's whereabouts." He turned to look at the row of pictures along the top of the piano. "Perhaps you can assist us, Mr. Morris. Do you know who her family is?"

Mr. Morris leaned in to examine the photos. "Those are her parents. Her mother is deceased, but her father resides nearby." He explained as he gestured to one picture frame. He reached to pick up another picture that had fallen face down and immediately frowned. "Oh, what a pity." He mumbled while brushing away the loose pieces of glass that lay on top of the piano and the keys directly below. "The glass in the frame must have been broken during the fight." The frown on his face increased as he studied the portrait. "This is strange. Why would Lizzy have an antique photograph of just a table?" He turned the frame into the light and looked closer. "Oh, I see… It's not just a picture of the table, it's the photograph on the wall beyond the table that is the focal point. See…" He showed the policeman the picture. "You can tell it's an ancestor; the woman standing next to the man in the photo looks very much like Lizzy."

"Hmm. The period looks like the late eighteen hundreds. Who's the man I wonder? He looks kind of familiar."

Mr. Morris shook his head as he placed the picture back on top of the piano. "I haven't got a clue."

A/N: Reviews are very welcomed. Thanks for reading.